To Death

Death, do not think to shine
When you steal away someone in the night
Or carry off the innocent who have not lived
To be the essence of the selves they dream of.
Be not ironic to take the soldier of three tours
Of war duty, not in that war, but when he gets his hero's welcome.
Think not that you are clever to take the infirmed,
Those whose bodies or minds are riddled with weakness.
For you, Death, are merely the means of entrance
To a world where none of these hardships can exist
Where there is laughter and sunshine
And the scent of flowers is always on the breeze.
Think, then, of yourself as a portal to new life
Where your passenger changes clothes and trains
To experience carefree days and reconciliation
With all the hard choices having been made in life.
Stand beside your door with humility
For the grand effort each person makes at his trials
To learn lessons so his soul can climb a small step
And earn passage through your tunnel to rest.

Porch Garden

Happy, purple Lady's Slippers smile up at me
While the Boston Fern reaches up in a froth of green
Herbs make haste to grow in rough and smooth suits
Primed for picking when the need arises.
Fresh air the blessing they impart as well
My summer porch garden full of life
A fine experiment to bring indoors as the frost comes
Hoping the destroyer cat will keep his distance.

The 411

The 411 hides like an artists' colony
Down below the theatre's steps
A cozy corner, dimly lit for privacy
And a mood of electric expectation
Preeminent in drawing the creative minds
Of youth and old alike
Marble, granite, glass and metal invite
The interested palate of the discerning culturist
And along, tall drink of water
Serves to collectg coins for the romantic wish maker.
Little clusters of patrons share their lives
At tables short and tall as jazzy music plays
Local art jumps from the pale walls
In colors of ecstasy and imagination
And I try to imagine when the crowd will get thick
And words of rhyme and fancy leave innuendo
To grace the ears and minds of the patrons.

A Fly

Scaling the walls, ceilings with pudding feet
A buzz, a flit, maneuvering at high speed
Eyes like black chrome reflecting the entire room
Weighing more than ten times the rest of the body
Landing on Thanksgiving dinner's piece de resistance
Leaving eggs to decorate the turkey's flesh
A new seasoning for the well-trained palates
Then veering away to stop by the coffee pot
And watch for the reactions as brothers and sisters
Do likewise, making the fowl more foul
Than such humans care to enjoy as they,
In their gluttony, devour all that we leave behind.
I giggle and wriggle my wings, rubbing my hands together.

There Is Peace

The soul sleeps whilst we go about our days
Walking in slumber, knowing and noting nothing
While the unseen world creates a tickle,
A point of light that makes us blink.
Our curiosity, a fine line that reaches out
To the perimeter of the circle
To find the grandeur of Spirit,
The essence of the Universal Mind
Where seen reaches unseen, dream touches reality
And hands raise far above our heads
Through the darkness to see and become Light,
To allow it to permeate our thoughts, our speech,
Growing, striving to climb ever higher
Up the ladder of finer and finer vibration.
And then, with each step up that we take,
The world becomes more aligned, more stable.
Chaos calms, anxiety withdraws and there is peace.