Make Peace, or Art?


Somewhere in a manger

In a land quite far away,

Human aspirations

Truth, Peace and love;

eeked it’s message through the fray,

Far away from commercial racket,

Far away from haste and greed,

A messenger cried beneath the burlap,

He had more warmth than he could need,

The twinkle in the sky,

Beamed bright- the light held in his heart,

His plea was for the masses

each day of my birth

Make peace….

Or art?


serious, as a shirt pressed crisp,

white as white

face the mirror, reluctant but open eyed

imperfect, soured by habit;

see as if feeling weren’t there

magnifying yesterday, up close to  see the pain

I quiet my thoughts, judgment spills through me like a sieve

the sun was forecast to follow the rain;

I seek to learn, to know, to be, to practice;

 even that which is unnatural

diffuse the jagged sparks of old; 

 see the crust form around the pool of pain

tenderly surround your inner plight, the truth as if your heart set that goal, the good

the path which invites you, the link from eye to heart

prevails through only art

just as it should



the burdens of change what’ true fine art

my outward body pleads with inward soul

<suddenly it's less heavy to lift each foot, and life the endless stroll becomes an adventure

I wear my wrinkles pridefully

as the masochist that used to thirst for blood, is busily collecting the wrinkles of time, no longer wishing to cover up the scars

Just Listen

Just Listen

It is the space that’s there but not quite seen

For some, the statue amidst the travertine

It’s a queasy pang from doing wrong

But alerts you to the importance of the Wood Thrush’s song

It may be the way the sun burns through

A rain filled sky, like someone knew

Each time I sat quiet to meditate

Even the homeless woman

delivered a message of beauty

free of hate.