Tag Archives: inspiration

The World is Ready For Love

I do not believe hate can destroy hate. Hate only intensifies when more hate is added to the flames.  Love is the only way to keep hate from growing.   Love’s powerful emotion will gradually smooth and soothe until hate runs and hides.  Only love can mend broken people, broken nations, and broken hearts.

 

The world tries to hide its shame.  Wars, rape, hunger–who’s to blame?

“Turn off the news!” someone shouts.  “It’s going to be another terrible day.”

When you close your eyes and cry, and do nothing except watch someone die,

Are you giving up without another chance to try?

The words of poets are powerful and should wake us and inspire,

I think we have a bigger purpose than simply preaching to the choir.

My friends, I hear voices from the graves.  They honor poets and writers

as those who are brave.  Words that carry love and dissipate hate will live long after our bones have crumbled.  Speak up and let love once again retake our land. Go in peace and love.

June 29, 2017

 

CREATE

CREATION

How can something be created out of nothing?

do existing building blocks

determine whether new creations are formed?

What is new? Something that grew?

Or is that simply a step away from 

something we already knew?

I shudder to think the world is on the brink

Of changing what was originally created,

building and connecting and welcoming

something which could survive in a nuclear sea,

something we could eat or drink,

but not eat you or me.

My idea of creation is a more gentle view,

where love and life may begin anew,

and all things, artificial or natural, are beautiful

without hate changing any part of me or you.

June 17, 201

 

BLOSSOM

BLOSSOMS IN HER HAIR

She wore a blossom in her hair,

A symbol of her love,

Telling me without words

That she was always there

And in the mood for love.

Each blossom represented

Her passion and to what degree,

From white to deep red,

Clues easy for me to see.

Just one quick glance

Gave me a chance,

To compose myself.

If loving her was a crime,

I always needed more time

To calm down and think of romance.

I’m sure others knew her intent.

When the blossom was crimson

And the air was full of love’s scent

We went out in the evenings,

Her complete flavor and taste,

Mine to enjoy fully without waste.

I’ll always remember how our love

Grew stronger each time we met,

Inspired by blossoms I could never forget,

Color coded for the rest of my life.

Color coded by my lover, my sweetheart, my wife.

June 17, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

TOO MUCH

TOO MUCH

 

She was too tall. I was too short.

She was too rich. I was too poor.

She was too thin. I was too fat.

She was too old. I was too young.

She was too hot. I was too cold.

I loved her too much.  She loved me more.

She listened to others. I didn’t listen at all at first.

Together we loved passionately and filled our days with laughter.

Our love had no boundaries until we listened too much.

Our friends said we needed each other too much.

They said we should stay away and give each other time to grow and love others.

 I think our friends were wrong.

Now I have too much time and too much unfulfilled love.

How can I hurt so much and feel so empty?

I want to be with her again with less friends.

They had too much time and not enough love to fill their own lives.

Maybe I want too much love, but I am ready to give

Too much love forever.

 

6/15/17

NOTORIOUS

A little precocious as a growing young lad,
Carl became notorious for being really bad.
At school he reigned as a lower grades king,
Ruling over a special place under the swings.
The little girls would swing high in the sky,
And Carl watched with pleasure what his eye.
At age twelve Carl was gangly and tall,
He was caught climbing into the girls bathroom stall.
When he was fourteen he did things with zest,
It was almost normal when he grabbed the teacher’s breasts.
Notorious for all the things he did,
“It’s not my fault,” he casually said.
Girls loved him even more as he grew older,
Energetic and adventuresome, he became bolder.
But his wild life would not always be that way,
Because a beautiful bad girl corralled him one day.
She gave him a few lessons in unbridled love,
Then showed him who was boss, when push comes to shove.
Without her love he continually grieved,
Until she finally became the air that he breathed.
Carl was notorious until he met his wife,
She was smarter and better, the love of his life.
Should you want to be notorious, be careful in what you do,
Because somewhere there is someone, badder than you.

May 19, 2017

COLLABORATION

(MEDICAL version)

So many people with numerous degrees,
Acknowledgements, honors and pedigrees,
Each contributing with all they do,
Unselfish and willing, just like you.
Climbing and wending their way to the top,
Gaining a life-long education that will never stop.
Research rewarded by new found cures,
Insatiable curiosity that will always endure.
All are determined to become the very best
At their own specialties, beyond the rest.
They work as teams though miles apart,
Connected by love, working heart to heart.
Not at the expense of others they’ve joined along the way,
Instead, locking arms and reaching above yesterday.
In unison they march, pushing barriers aside,
Creating new tomorrows, prejudices denied.
The future promises more to those that share,
Their resources combined offer superior care.
United they stand in all that they do,
Unselfish and willing, just like you.
Not just for the moment but for always,
Providing patients with longer and better days.
Many qualified specialists linked by their expertise,
Means patients are the winners in conquering disease.

May 13, 2017

ROOTS

Everyday I think about where I’ve been, where I am, and where I am going. Not quite in those terms, but terms that have real meaning to me. Where did my ancestors come from and what shaped their dreams and thoughts?
Were they farmers, mud oozing between their toes, growing floating gardens and crops that seemed to magically appear? Or did they gather seeds and store them in wicker baskets, saving them for harsh winters?
My roots may be from peaceful people who were driven from their lands and were forced to forage and discover new lands. Yet, in spite of what I have imagined or dreamed, my roots may lie deeper in the soil, connected to spilled blood.
A tribe or two, struggling to find their place in the sun, are in my dreams. These people are somewhere in my story, connected to the earth, buried deep and twisted.
Others may be branches,loftier groups that seek perfection. These branches deceive themselves and others. All are tied to the sky and to the darker days when seeds were planted.
I am connected to my past and I fight against myself at times, trying to pull out my own roots, trying to connect branches to the sky. But try as I might, I cannot separate the two. I am my past, present, and my future.

May 6,2017