OK! I got this blog site figured out. It is no longer supported for posting by IE 8. I am using Google Chrome to post and edit.

Now, some people think life is a linear progression from birth to grave. I believe it is a circle. That circle is similar to a necklace of pearls. That is numerous small circlets creating the larger circle. These circlets are our experiences always in motion, changing places as they travel around the larger circle. We rely on these experiences as we travel through life. As in the larger circle where the end and beginning meet, so it also happens in the smaller circlets. When this happens there can be a sort of closure on an incomplete circlet. In all its imperfections of anger, hatreds, misdeeds, loves gained and lost, life is not based on  one single experience, it is woven into a tapestry
Life is most beautiful....

Strand of Lifes’ Web

Lilac and rosebush

stems not quite touching...

Web spun between

in late Spring,

join

two as one...

Through heat and

summer storm

web tatters and breaks...

Strands of memory

cling to leaf 

and flower remnants...

Dancing separate life songs

 through season's

passing...

Winds of chance

join two memories

for a season's

moment…

Then cast them

upon their roots…

A final feeding

For soul

cleansing

ccd Sept. 2013

I have been editing this poem for a week.

Tamarack has veryl little water in it now. More when it rains.

It did look like a mud hole untill this spring. You have to look

beyond the muddiness to still see the beauty. The same goes

for people looking at themselves.

For some reason I can not correct fonts right now with out starting from scratch

please forgive the font change in the poem.



Mirrored wall

In the valley

beneath pine and oak

   once lay a glassless mirror...

Rippled by the wind’s kiss..

     fishtail or rain drop...

When once stars were seen

by looking down....

Now one must look above

Yet beauty still remains...

Emerald is the grass

broken by wildflowers growing

among stone and stump

So, I say to you ...

"Look beyond the mirrored wall..."

Remove the glass from

the frame...

Look beyond shallow reflections

deep to the beauty

not shown...

Seek flowers ready to

bloom and hidden

jewels

Hi! dette er den google oversætter så lad os se, hvor godt det gør.


Det er godt at høre fra dig igen. Hvorfor internettet ringe til dig igen? Jeg føler nogle ændringer, der kommer på. Jeg tror, ​​de vil være gode forandringer. Jeg har bekymringer, men ingen sand frygt for fremtiden.

Jeg overlader valget til dig for at åbne ay konto. Jeg kan huske, hvor meget det irriterede dig gennem årene.

Jeg vil gerne vide, hvad du synes om mine digte, selvom der har været lidt de sidste 2 år.

Du kan grine af, hvor dårligt denne oversætter arbejder. Jeg har altid gerne holde mine venner griner.

Med dig at være ude af syne det ikke sætte dig ud af mit sind.


En ven du har været, en ven, du forbliver
Jeg vil tale med dig snart her eller på y.

Greetings and well wishes to all my friends and readers. Much has been on my mind which is why I have not been writing poems as often. Inspiration is as far between as the things on my mind. The lake was reopened for activities.

Two weeks ago I took a walk after work. Well lets say for 2 weeks the lake was calling. It called until I answered with the little trip. This short drive was

a trip down memory lane. So, this poem is of one of my first walks at the lake

10 years of walks 2 weeks of calling  1 instant of inspiration 3 days to compose.  Enjoy.

Broken Pew

A copse of hemlocks stands beside
my path...

Called into this grand temple of

natures solitude
I bring a
noisy mind...

Amid this hemlock cathedral,
beckoning....

Young was the

tree with broken back whose crown only

in reverence touched the ground...

Now, is but a skeleton of life..

This seat offered I take, I watch, I listen...

Chants carried upon the breeze
from shadowed columns

 are but whispers

passed from swaying tree to

flowing stream

From this broken pew
 I loose the noise
...find my soul 

Too long I have been away from the writing. I do not know when next I will sit at the keys to type a piece of verse.
Inspiration comes at times undetermined.Yesterday at work a customer I tend to banter with followed a simple statement with a profound truth. The conversation I can not recall, it was nothing but a simple attempt of jest. This verse is not of beauty.
Me" Fantasy unfulfilled ....him' reality fulfilled...  The two statements lead to
A simple Haiku....

Truth 

Fantasy never

As reality fulfilled

Dance of life to death

ccd

April 2013

It has been a decent start of the new year. Inspiration returns with a trickle. A hot shower washes away my sleep and awakens the mind for a glimpse of beauty not understood but gladly accepted. Friday morning my inspiration was the question.... does God have a soul?

if so what would it be?

God's Soul

Human voice from shrill

to flat...

Automation rumbles

and groans...

Natures orchestra

of sizzling rain to

roaring tempest...

As a snowflake

settles in the

stillness of cold,

A flower bud opens

with a whisper

unheard...

Spider strums it's

thread while

the hummingbird's heart

beats within its breast...

These arias carried

upon the winds... 

A beauty

I hear, I feel, I see
 but do not understand...

I do with faith

believe...

They are bits of

a symphony that is

 the music that is

God's soul

ccd

Jan. 2013