Our news media decide what stories they will follow, and often I wonder why they promote some things, like stories of violence and death, but positive things or stories that may be right wing or not politically correct seem to be strained like a gnat, and have enquiring minds surfing the internet to find what is actually happening in America. Why do news reporters ignore such a large convergence on DC. Riders are coming in peace but numbers.
Category Archives: philosophy
The tides are synchronized with your moods
Precise time tables are written for decades hence
Vast oceans acquiesce to your silent command
When hurricane throws her gauntlet down
You still orchestrate from your lofty abode
Lunar light is not constant but your strength
Lies not in your reflection but in your perfection
Onion tears I heard mother say
As she used her apron to wipe them away
But she was in the process of kneading bread
I knew those tears were genuine instead
She never wanted us to see her cry
Alas, her tender heart would often sigh
Tears cleanse the soul of deepest pain
Clear the path for smile to follow the rain
I am Autumn (Harrisham)
Pecking in mass of fallen leaves
Geese eat berries the cedars shed
Eagles floating on evening breeze
Share the gray skies overhead
Dusk descends as lone deer flees
Kiss of sun on horizon turns red
Whispers of darkness
Shards of light
Penetrate night’s depth
Blackness that permeates
Night after long night
Only slivers of light here
Clinical depression haunts
IrisD , my poem for Poetic Asides April 4 prompt
Sliding away from my thoughts
So close I almost catch it with my tongue
Yet blurring as I try to savor it
What is that nombre that I want
I toss out a random word, and yet
I long to capture the perfect one
You walk away and then, voila
The word whispers through my lips
Houdini was a famous escape artist that was famous for getting out of impossible situations such as locked chains and closed chambers.
I think my socks are even more talented than Houdini at making escapes. I can count 6 black socks, 3 mated pairs, put them in with a load of clothes in the washer. Whenever the washer stops I put the ENTIRE load into the dryer which is immediately above my washer. Whenever the dryer timer sounds, I remove all the clothes and put them in a basket, carry to my made bed and dump them out to sort and fold. I fold all the clothes and mate the socks, but there is one of them missing. Only five socks. I retrace my steps to the dryer and look carefully inside. Empty. I remove the lint trap, it is full of lint but no sock. Then I reach into the washer and turn the gyrator and feel underneath. I even shine a flashlight inside, to no avail. Nothing. My sock must have escaped to Houdini heaven where all errant socks dance and laugh at us. At least every six months this ritual is repeated. Maybe the sock manufacturers pay a reward to Houdini Heaven since someone has to replace the missing argyle.
Deep Calls To Deep
Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls;
All Your breakers and Your waves have rolled over me.*
Your majesty exceeds my extravagant imagination
Your infinite wisdom surpasses man’s corporate dreams.
One snap of your finger brings mountains to their knees,
While we struggle to move its boulders.
We have absence of war and name it peace,
You are clothed in light that calms even storms at sea.
Man considers a century as longevity
While you always existed and hold keys to eternity.
I flew to Canilla, Guatemala for a week mission trip in April.I have previously been in Ethiopia, Mexico,Italy, and Israel, and as I am not fluent in any language besides English, I need an interpreter to translate whenever I speak. Children do not need anyone to interpret. Their smiles and beckoning hand let you know if they are comfortable with you and if they want to share their food or sit with them. Smiles, smiles, smiles. They penetrate the language barrier and warm my heart like no words can. Here is a one of the many pictures of children in Guatemala.