Fine Dogs

all the secrets that the fine dogs speak

in messages passed one to the next

you hear their voices’ urgent calls

beneath sun or moon, it makes no matter

fears, anger, joy, all passed along

to the next vocal harmonizer

a language all their own to describe

their time in captivity, loved or nay,

still there is a way to share it all

with the chain of barks or howls

as they meet on the road, across town,

each one reporting the day’s events

a good run, a good meal, a round of fetch,

it all gets delivered in the news

as well as who passes by, how he smells,

friend or foe in this neighborhood

they know it all, see it all, sense it all

and when darkness falls, they are alert

Flower of Life

radiance of all that is from a single seed

divides its energy again and again

creating the flower of life, all existence

emerging in the thought of all humankind

the memories, the messages, the breath of the Creator

instilled in each living being, each quark,

consciousness, awareness, beauty, harmony

the great pattern that repeats itself throughout life

the universe, the multiverse, microcosm

as above so below are the things we know

lifting humankind with a new voice

that comes from the power of the heart

we will be heard, the seed will grow

and all life on the planet will flourish

A Painting

wrapping one arm around herself

she leans toward the table

though she stares into space

eyes not looking at scenery out the window

her red lashes lowered in deep thought

her red locks tied in a perfect bun

and yet, her blue cashmere fails to keep her warm

against the chill of winter, what she will do

to brave months of severe weather, loneliness

she feels frozen like a statue of bronze

waiting for the summer sun to reinvigorate her

waiting for the green of life to sprout

for the mossy carpet to draw her closer

to the fairy dance of spring

Homes

colors with a bit of ash calm the eye

where red and bright yellow excite

so as we stride from room to room

be it a cozy apartment or grand condo,

our emotions ride the roller coaster of intent

like so much energy and happiness

that suddenly goes downhill for a pick-me-up

and we can imagine, with clouds painted above

that we are rising, rising like angels

into the firmament, a joyful place to be

yet, do we want to feel as if we rest

beneath the stars, unprotected, at all times?

Disability

disability means curtailing things you love

it means living with fear of getting worse

you can count on losing touch with friends

because they don’t understand:  is it catchy?

disability puts walls up between people

because shared interests may no longer be possible

disability may not be seen, but it is felt

and the crushing weight of it on your day

may make you want to sit around in p.j.’s

and not do anything except nap and use the john

disability holds you down, even when you want

to get up and clean the house, play in the snow,

go for a hike, ride a bike, visit who you like,

sometimes you feel frozen in space and time

no explanation will ever free you

but disability does not make you less human

it doesn’t take away your right to speak

you are still entitled to your feelings

you still have likes, dislikes, an identity,

and you are not your disability

Sunshine

the day is so much lighter on my burdens

the brightness of the sky makes me feel glad

the room fills up with joy when the sun shines

and my heart sings like an angel in the sky

it doesn’t matter if it’s warm or chilled

the sun sends delightful energy

the thrill, the hope of rightful plenty

come what may on a sunny day we’re ready

to face the good, the bad or cliché

sunshine tastes like sprinkles of sugar

it makes everything brighter, lighter

I’m more me on a bright, blue-sky, sunshiny day

Laughter: Things Are Not What They Seem

laughter follows wherever you go

the schemes of a lifetime on open road

going once, going twice, sold to the dream

amazing creations in heavy-stitched seams

your days unfold, they are larger than life

could you picture forever without any strife??

such experience flies through perfect vision

it’s just who you are, this is your mission

to make all the world animated with love

flying, untying the gifts from above

let tomorrow be what it will, what it seems

and pray that God’s best comes in sunbeams

to change the hearts of oppressors’ greed

who care not for others, to watch us all bleed

pray for them! for them sated, their happiness filled

and perhaps they’ll remember the little ones stilled

Slumber

that time of night when the clouds come

closer to earth and chase chills with

a warm embrace like a soft wool blanket

the eyes of children grow heavy with dreams

as they are carried on loving shoulders up to bed

and the expeditions of the day melt away

as new journeys form in the mind

from past experience, from hopes and desires

comforting waves wash over them as they curl

into their bed sheets and drift into their pillows

where the night’s agenda begins to form

in the sweet minds of the slumbering babes

Lights

sparkles, sparkles everywhere you look

glisten in the eyes, razzle dazzle

brilliant to be seen, charming to behold

mesmerizing, fantasizing, captivating

all about what you see, you see,

stars in the eyes, radiant light

not only do they shine at night

but glimmer their reflection in the pond

shimmering in rays across the pool

from doorways to hearth to spotlights

highlighting trees and banner in the breeze

if they could echo they would

but for now they blush on the tile

Wondering

a cave opens before us, we follow it

down, down, its curved path lighted with red candles

like a corkscrew going deeper into the earth

beckoning to a place of sparkling diamonds

and treasures of wisdom from the creations

that have kept the earth on a gentle roll

for aeons, era after era, since time began

and we reach out as we hear them

going deeper into the reality few can see

and fewer get to touch but we follow

the lighted path to see what we will find

the spiral becomes steeper and tighter

and soon there is a light, brighter, hotter,

that reveals itself as we round the final bend

where the blue dragon, lavished in gemstones,

sequin scales and pearls to define her worth

she bids us come in and sit beside her

she tells of the ravaging of her kind

she tells the wisdom of the world is lost

in skyscrapers and flying drones and

long-forgotten stories from all the lands

and she weeps, wondering if we will

listen and learn and share the Truth

Gates

through the gates we slowly go

savoring the moment, expecting the birth

of life everlasting, we walk to the portico

the imaginings have come true after great effort

in through the doors of dark oak and glass

taking a deep breath as each moment passes

it seems that the room opens up to the sky

the color of green grass, the carpet like sand,

comfort established as smiles we greet

warm hugs surround us with each one we meet

sculpted shrubbery perfects every view

and everywhere is a window to let in the light

a cozy fireplace with a double-sided flue

completes the openness as arches abound

to call it home is a gift from far above

such a place endures with God’s gift of love

Waiting

waiting for the other shoe to drop

waiting for payday, for the dentist,

waiting for the rain to stop or to start,

anxiety in all its forms scrape our souls

and make us ask about our worth

because if we were worthy, it seems,

we could have what we want right away

and what we don’t want, well, it would go away

but sometimes we don’t have a choice

the magic just is not there or luck runs thin

to make things happen in our preferred time

so we must wait without control

for the good, the bad, the not-so-bad

and take it as it comes, for if we do,

we realize it’s not so sad to wait

Alone

alone on Thanksgiving day makes you sad

for the things you are thankful for

begins with family—those we love and value

who love us and make our days worthwhile

so the loneliness of time alone brings reflection

upon the good times and good people in our lives

upon the things we have that bring us joy

but being alone on the holidays is sad

because those people are not with us

we are cut off and alone to cry

yet we must not forget the things we have

such as a home and bed and car and health

we have so many things that make up our days

but we overlook them when our people are not there

Idyll

towering above the green, velvet garden

stone upon stone, befitting a castle,

taller than the magnolia trees that arch and weep

statuary graces the flowering shrubs of pink

peace resides in this place of respite

as if it came gently out of Avalon

to bless us with its grandeur, its grace,

residing where the clouds rest on mountains

so quiet, the idyll of a modern prince

left to collect ivy and turtle doves

perhaps it will find a new endeavor

as modern minds find new uses for old things

though its fine portraits and grand staircases

lend to the creation of a royal home

who in this world could respect its calling?

Old Chair

rich brown leather covers my old chair

so soft and molded to my frame

one leg hangs o’er the arm, the other down,

as I lean my head deep into the back

my arms holding the fluffy, plaid pillow

tight to my chest while it supports my book

a tale of elemental gods and powers

that we, standing on our own two feet

can’t imagine wielding, or just can’t imagine

but this is my favorite place, in my old chair,

to allow my vision to soar, and yet,

I remain safe in the arms of my chair

the soft light from silver lamps

are the guides to my travels as I close my eyes

and tally the cost of the tickets to go

wherever the written page shall take me

Haggard

coarse course of haggard trails

bearing brambles to be cut away

interfere with the smooth running

of everyday affairs and best-laid plans

as if the sky were falling down

and Chicken Little had broadcast the news

in adult terms perhaps we think of rockslides

or crashes on Wall Street that lead to failure

of our failsafe hopes and intentions

but no matter how sure our inventions

of ways to keep everyone happy

some will not be fed and some miss dessert

Claustrophobia

claustrophobia is a state of mind

for certain persons whose past lives

held them tighter than they liked

an imagination that the breath shortened

and pressure from outside was greater

than the mind could stand to have

if perhaps they recall being prisoner

in a tomb or a box or a sink hole

where that breath was not free and easy

or somehow they were restricted

by their own choice or another’s

it just seems that envisioning themselves

riding bareback on a racing thoroughbred

with its mane whipping the face

and the air rushing, rushing through the nostrils

that perhaps that claustrophobia would go

Imagination

colors of autumn fade to ash

as all skies mourn year’s coming end

fate and fantasy blend in waltz

the coming fortune follows tears and fears

but ere the soul becomes resigned

to failure in the art of hope,

help uplifts the heart of gold

and charity edges through the challenge

of day to day sadness, remorse,

the loss of love, companionship,

but one who sees through a dark swell

comes to shatter the shroud of darkness

and light the flame wielded in grace

where two, a perfect pair, are matched

and the unseen then becomes real

where wholeness burns through imagination

Gray Lace

in dreams we see the colors bright

the shades of gray melt fast away

we open portals to new worlds

the caveat is the law of love

no power so great to make the world spin

we know not what temptation we’re in

life and liberty are all we can show

and where it stops, who’s to know

such silly rhymes, perhaps, you think

that in the timeless realm you sink

evading, eroding, in desperate measure

digging, we search for sunken treasure

the message won’t pop before your eyes

it’s floating somewhere in thinnest skies

where blue is gone, the dark of outer space

begins to change it all to dark gray lace

For Veterans

the wars, the scores all numbered and dated

from the carnage to the heroes

do you suppose it’s all fated?

the soldiers, the sailors, they all do their parts

while we, at home, complain about our lives

not so often holding freedom fighters in our hearts

but today is for the veterans, regardless of their roles

many are homeless, hungry, lost no matter how he strives

and we must shoulder his security regardless of cost

to pay for battered lives, torn limbs, shattered minds

the things that happen to our sisters and brothers whose goals

are to be what they can be: leaders, protectors, healers,

not knowing what awaits them as they become targets

but all of them are heroes, all should be uplifted

given our honor and gratitude, a life worth living

when their job is done and the bells of freedom ring

Family Farm

forever blue the skies smile down

on the treasured place where love resides

the fog lifts from the pond so chill

and ducks and geese float where they will

the flowered trees in pink and white

make a whimsical sight in spring

the tire swing hangs where it always did

for the flock of children to play and climb

what better service to the ancestral home

where love abounds and love resides

a warm wood stove keeps cozy below

the family portraits watch from the wall

a row of kittens dot the upper landing

a tank of angelfish and betas ripples and bubbles

and children’s tales report on the ipod

such, the activity the day the snow began

in the Strickler house beneath the ceiling fan

Cycles

the cycles of the wheel go ‘round this day

one who has run against a wall is free

blessings abound now as the arrow flies

grand eminence to have happiness reign

a tower has been built, the ladder rises

no cataclysm can ever tear it down

the priestly class to the world gave a gift

all wishes summed up to smile

because breaking through the chains

has returned greatness to greatness

and alarms are now quieted, silenced,

the diamond like a lotus opens its petals

and tomorrow comes washing o’er the wall

Deep

down, it feels, through the earth’s crust,

through the water so cold, so dark

at first it seems I am fighting to breathe

pushing so hard against the grit of walls

then I break free and the water is blue,

so blue as the sky on a sunny day

and the warmth of the center comes

I see orange, then red, then yellow

and it gets hotter and hotter, blue, then white

and suddenly, the lotus, with tinges of pink

and a rainbow of color appears before me

so beautiful, so open, and I pass through

into a new level of amazement

where a sea of eyes looks upon me

and I at them and I realize I am not alone

Spiral

deep spiral into the nothing

swirling lights of thought, desire,

becomes intention delving deeper

into reality sparkling new beginnings

awards, awareness, echoing to the surface

bright birth of enchantment in shadow

no longer hiding, no longer frightened,

thrusting upward like the Ace of Swords

new strength and power rising, shining,

glinting with the sunrise evermore

and sharing its explosive radiance

with the world, healing, holding tight,

breathing freely and washing back down

like the climactic wave gone back out to sea

Totem

sweet crispness of fallen leaves

beneath the steps slowly taken

the camera bobs gently against my breast

I peer through binoculars beyond trees,

ponds, over and up hills into clouds

waiting for a glimpse of wildlife

a deer, a bobcat, a wild hog, perhaps,

nature in its rarest and finest form

a totem with guidance to give, medicine to share,

as luck would have it, an eagle flies above,

the grand master of the spirit world some say

yet all, in their own way, are tied to the land,

as am I, walking the path, step by step,

watching, waiting for my turn

Pastoral

the breeze ripples over the top

of long sheaves of cut grasses

a border collie pants as he guards his post

among the black-faced sheep, grazing,

honeybees and bumblebees buzzing atop sweet clover

that smells like the  finest perfume from Paris

the last of a long day of summer weather

caught in a picture frame for posterity

when honeybees may become a thing of the past

and the familiar buzz of the fields

becomes replaced by nanobots that self-fertilize

our flowers, our food, our futures

Hiding

bushes surround me with their thickness

it is the warm, familiarity of everyday life

no need to put the toes in the water

no need to stretch the arms out to the path

the stepping stones are gone from view

just walking in place so no one knows

there is a difference in my melancholy days

hopeful for the big win that might change tomorrow

new surroundings where a brief walk, a photo,

might encourage a smile where no one sees

for now I am camouflaged in the bushes

the path is a stranger where everyone is cold

and I look for the clouds to part, to bring sunshine

but for now, amongst the branches, I am hiding

Directions

taking directions is so challenging

when you don’t know where you want to go

the sky’s the limit, the ocean depths

are just some of the places you might know

and when your mind no longer is confused

a little pollen spray can start you on your way

as you breathe in the fresh air of springtime

and travel with the bumble bees and butterflies

sleeping with the tree frogs as they croak the night away

your imagination racing wildly watching colorful macaws

as you traverse the rain forest, its crocodiles and pythons

your heart beating faster as you twirl around the world

where you fly high upon Mount Everest nearly frozen in your place

and to top it off you greet the stars far in outer space

then you come back down to earth, land in your cozy bed

where you snore until the morning waking up instead

The Hunt

it begins with the imposing question, “Where?”

and a moment of thought to suppose an answer

but once you realize that you don’t know

you can but close your eyes, retrace your steps

and guess where last you saw your treasure

not always is the treasure large, so small it may be

as to fit in the palm of your trembling hand

where it is so plain to see that you imagine

how it feels to hold it, to touch it,

what scent it gives off, if any, a sparkle,

but your treasure may also be someone

whom you may or not have met...yet
and then you hold the treasure in your  heart

waiting patiently for the perfect person to come

across your path, to look just so, speak just so,

and then, together you wrap each other in your dreams

Softer

where does my true love’s path cross mine?

I see him clearly in my dreams

though gentle words encourage him

I cannot see the time, the place

and were it not my steps are stilted

my eyes filled with haze

my words eloquently chosen

I suppose it would not pain me so

to wait upon the good Lord’s timing

such a day when we shall meet

my true love, tender of heart

and we shall sip fine wine or tea

and make the world much softers

Tales

fairy tales, the stories of old,

with characters well-founded,

we ask the questions of good and right

we know the answers by the villain’s defeat

and yet so rounded the hero’s verse

we gravitate to the pure, the beautiful,

unknown background, the mild retreat,

carried away on a white horse, for sure

the ladies, the lords, the kings and queens

fighting for the right to lead, fealty,

what we discern is the blessing of youth

that good wins out over evil and woe

so carry the basket to Grandma’s house,

jump high at the grapes hanging on the vine,

rescue the damsel who cries from the tower

and eat not the apple from the woman

whose speech is so smooth she could be a snake

Owls

the owls nest in mountains high

the treetops make their perfect view

to see the coming lofty horizon

day or night, their vision is keen

as they take flight on sturdy wings

to survey their legions far beneath

they take clear providence of the sky

the rapture of raptors in silent flight

surprising their prey from great heights

gallant in posing once fed, restored,

he awaits the familiar passerby

who looks on in curiosity to inquire of wisdom

and yet, the owl merely turns his head

ignoring the ignorant, his wing o’er his eyes

and goes to sleep for the day to pass

renewing his hunt when the rodents roam

somewhere through his dark dominion

Stripes

so many stripes, so many colors

each person’s thoughts wild and wonderful

exploring, learning, growing in mind

refining, defining, admiring all around

without exception life marches on

creating a story for all humankind

is there life under the sea? on other planets?

how do we react to them when we abhor those we see?

what value has our hate? is it population control?

if we must fight can it be against poverty?

how about hunger, homelessness, hatred itself?

can we learn to appreciate the differences

in size, shape, color, culture, beliefs?

how we need this, to give everyone a fair shot

to grow up healthy, no more disease for our children

grasp hands and hold fast, live and let live

For Us All

children do not understand the differences

between able and handicapped

they may be a certain age before the meaning

grips their reasoning to be used in fights

demeaning friend, frenemy, foe

and there, it seems, it is arrested,

where we pull these prickly thorns from memory
intending the greatest hurt in any argument

but we are not children and we understand

that differences exist, that the playing field

is never going to be level or fair

but it doesn’t mean we love anyone less,

it doesn’t mean we should shut the infirmed

from our world, rather the more capable

can offer a helping hand, the gift of time spent,

a smile, a touch, a cup of coffee, applause.

it is good to give, to encourage, to teach

we are our brothers and sisters keepers

let the Light shine in and through for us all.

fantasy2

I have a fantasy held in my heart

that one day soon equality shall reign

for this is not the way it seems

rather insecurity, prejudice and blame

are the standards held to conflict

and yet, the road grows ever wider

more hands reach out, more smiles appear,

for what we’ve done to each other in time

can be washed away if we make it clear

that no life is better than any other

different, surely, but valued all the same

tall or short, fat or thin, dark or light,

rich or poor, able or disabled, man or woman,

each is a blessing, we must know it well

each fits in the image of the Creator and

I’ll tell you this as my fantasy grows

the greater the love, the more it seems

the greener our planet, the lesser the greed

can we do that?  can we trust each other

to let go of the fear that underlies hate

and start life anew, make my fantasy Fate?

enough

will there never be enough, my friends,

to satisfy the needs of the many?

what more could we ask for if we could?

could we ask an end to violence,

that everyone put their weapons down

and shake the hands of friend and foe alike?

could we ask the healing of the heartaches

of the families of the victims of violence

that their tears be enough for all time?

could we ask that the children no longer

go to school hungry or sleepless or ragged

because parents need work or self-respect?

this world has its problems, but if we’ve had enough

perhaps one day our questions will change

and we can start asking if there is enough

to satisfy the needs of the few

who gain their wealth by taking the dreams

of the many who believe they’ll come true

and suppose they were called to task, these few,

and put their great wealth toward believing in you?

Shine

look into the mirror at your face

are you the fairest of them all?

why do you ask like the stepmother

who destroyed the ure heart of Snow White

you are the joy of the Creator’s fashion

a design all your own, beautiful, worthy

each thought designed to protect you, enhance you

you are the marvel like a unique gemstone

faceted to sparkle, set and surrounded

by the shape that creates the impression

of grandeur as you present yourself to the world

let no one take from you what the Creator has given

so long as you take from no other

for we are all beautiful creations, unique

able to shine with a smile for all around

What Lies Beneath

How do we know what lies beneath the skin

as we pass a stranger on the street?

Perhaps we have no wheelchair to remind us

that there is more to this person than we see

we may assume as we hear him speak

that he is the same as we

but there is so much more, something with the eyes,

that doesn’t tell us who he is, what struggles he faces

what can we know, what should we know,

it matters not that there may be more,

for we should smile just as much to everyone

we should care as much about everyone

we should help everyone till everyone’s needs are met

No matter what lies beneath.

Wander

when I wander where I will

through thickets tangled and tall

or along a stone-curbed clear path

with shaded or sunny landscapes

my thoughts will be of quiet times

memories of laughter and of love

and I shall climb Heaven’s mansions

beautiful and bold where no fearsome thing

shall interrupt my focus, my sight

rather I shall be filled with delight

in the vision of lofty gifts from above

serene, tender, harmonious beyond recall

for grand villas hold unknown mysteries

ready to share their knowledge and bring us

the contentment, the joy to which we aspire

Fairy Tales

stories of long-lost love or betrayal

a wicked witch, a magical fountain,

fairies and gnomes and dwarves—oh, my!

good wins out as evil melts away

the dust settles, the clear air is here to stay

worries are only temporary, dry those tears

hold your head high and rise to the sky

above the clouds find an emerald tablet

rejoice as you read the words to the wise

fantasy? perhaps, but into the fold we go

the Saviour’s promise is Truth, this I know

come rain and come shine things look brighter

once the morning sun adorns your face

and when we all hold hands to cross the street

it shall be safer for us all

The Rise

frustration may grip at your nerves

as once again the landscape ascends

and you look upon it with weary eyes

but there is a gift in plying yourself

to the task of climbing once again

for you have nothing to prove to anyone

if only yourself, as you lean onto the rise

grasping with your hands, pushing with feet

and going up to the top where your goal

has waited for you to become what Fate

inevitably has asked you to become

The Trail

open to a new trail through Northern forests green

undergrowth of air ferns line the sides it seems

the sky is bluer, fresher, air, the heart sings to be free

aligning one with all the greatness Nature has foreseen

so stepping slowly down the trail wildlife wanders past

a deer, raccoons, a skunk, perhaps, a bear at last

one thing to remember:  do not tread this way so fast

for every moment savored is a dream to be cast

upon the water, upon the stars, the wind and on the sand

where will you go on this, your trail, your hallowed land

creating memories with every step you take and where you stand

to stop and marvel where you’ve been no grievance you demand

for realistic expectations give what you have taken

the world is your own snow globe, unbeguiled and gently shaken

Galaxies

lights like so many millions of fireflies

the galaxies flash light and color

pinwheels of stars that no one can imagine

it can only be seen through a telescope

great and small offer a window

into the surreal universal landscape

where nurseries of gases birth new stars

and glow in ways we can’t imagine on earth

can one of these points of light be home

to others who breathe as we breathe

who think and talk in ways we might understand

and if they do, could we possibly meet them

and could it possibly resolve our woes?

Exploring

exploring places in the world

where the imagination can take form

make bubbles of thought and vision

exciting streams of consciousness as if

mighty streams of waters flowed through

grand oak trees whose roots dig down

to the very core of the earth, where

fire-breathing dragons lay claim to the

molten, bouncy ball spinning and wobbling

more slowly as in days past, like Dark Ages

when people thought of survival alone

and today, everyone is at each other’s throat

because they want all life to imitate them

so we explore places where there is calm

and green beauty, where life is gentle, soft

Swan

wings of the swan raised, posed as if

calling the orchestra to attention

as he rises from the water paddling his feet

the black mask across his beak adding drama,

depth, barely a ripple in the water surrounding

his firm, stout body as he prepares his dance,

his mating ritual, bound to impress his lady

with his finesse, his stature and prowess among

all the other swans circling the lake

nesting among the cattails and remains

of wooden docks and pylons where

one day, not long from now, ducklings will hatch

Martian Castles

fashioned like something on the Martian skyline

half-spheres and giant waves of sand

squiggled across the horizon with shadows

a ripple, dished out on the highest peak

looking like whittled peaches in orange tints

but nowhere is the carved sand disturbed

except by the train of dromedary camels

and their masters, tightly wrapped in blue scarves

to prevent the sand from getting where it shouldn’t

they follow a trail laid long ago

etched out by early caravans in spite of

the sheets of sand that make the shapes

of Martian castles and giant peaches

Refugee Child

the mind of a child sees everything

and paints from the heart such energy

that colors dim and colors bright

take on such shapes as his world creates

he explores all things within his view

and interprets all as he is aware

from clouds that are shaped like seagulls

to trucks bestowed with dinosaur fins

traversing a road on a grassy hillside

not much longer than the truck itself

yellow polka dot flowers cover the mounds

a red, black and gray flag adorns the school

a child flies on his belly on the swing

while a helicopter flies higher than the sun

a young Picasso with a well-trained eye

expressing his joy in the world of a refugee