Ride, Citizens, Ride (News Silent about 2 Million Bikers converging on DC)

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.





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

Trust at Dusk

Katie in the air

Trust is tangible

Taste it in the air

Entire family near

She can fly high

His arms her wings

Onion Tears


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)

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

Night After Night (Sevenling poem)

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

Hold That Word

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 Socks (deft dryer)

Houdini Socks

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.

Child’s smile is universal language

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.


May 2018
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