Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category

Psychobabble

My ancestors had PTSD —
Wow, how unfortunate for me.
My problems could be epigenetic —
Is that why I am so frenetic?

Or is it all familial sin?
Destroying all the peace within?
It could go back to Adam and Eve,
When fruit was eaten from the tree.

The human race has many trials,
But also things that make us smile.
A laugh, a hug, and grateful words
Mitigate what seems absurd.

By grace of God we can have healing;
Eternal life is so appealing.
Consider suff’ring temporary
And keep your eyes on coming glory.

Listening

I never liked the noise —
People squabbling, arguing, bickering.
Strong opinions — who was right?
So self-righteous; and not so humble.
Wouldn’t admit their own fragility —
For me, no unconditional stability.

Too many voices
Say what they think —
My life’s on the brink —
It’s hard to think.

Anyway, just have your way.
You’re always right —
Ain’t that the way?
There’s too much noise,
I have to say.

I’d rather sit in the silence
Listening for God to speak.

Counting Jacarandas

My spouse and I,
We go for walks
In neighborhoods,
And sometimes talk.
We stroll, we speed,
We take our ease —
Counting jacarandas.
He strolls, I speed,
Then turn around
To  match his pace,
So we can talk.
And all the while
We take our ease —
Counting jacarandas.
Some days we all
Must take a break,
Slow down the race,
Reduce the pace,
Do silly things
And laugh awhile —
Counting jacarandas.

History

Where has the past gone?
No one believes in history

People panic about things
That all happened before

Study the mystery
Of humanity’s progress and regress

Of climates come and gone
And come again

We don’t need to panic
It’s all happened before

Learn from the past –
Isn’t that wisdom?

Not to dismiss disasters
Or pass off plagues

But
It’s all happened before

Be prepared

Grand Canyon

On first sight,
Like little children,
With eyes agog and mouths agape —
Paralyzed in awe and wonder

Or crying,
Strangely still,
Feeling humble

Ancient, ancient rocks
Tell God’s secrets
In silence

On the Brink of Eternity

On the brink of eternity,
I pause and look behind —
The people known,
The work grindstones,
The things I owned —
What do they mean?

For nothing lasts,
And all must change,
And jumbled thoughts,
All disarranged —
Assail me.

Those people I looked up to
Seem to grow so small;
I don’t know them at all.

I cannot tell what God is doing —
What purpose does He have?

So many years ago,
All seemed bright and full of promise,
But gradually, the light did dim,
And now the world seems grim.

I cannot tell what God is doing,
But surely He lives —
As He slowly writes my story.

A Different Path

This life is one of tears and pain;
We once get up, and fall again.
Evil, sin, seep through the cracks;
The heart of man — God’s peace it lacks.

And yet, with patient, open arms,
Our Savior calls us from all harm.
A different path He offers us —
Of peace, of joy, of deep’ning trust.

When evil grows, when peace is shattered,
Cling to the cross; His Love’s what matters.
Have patience, and with growing faith,
Let God be guide to glorious fate.

And Thus in Heaven

How small I am
In Your immensity;
How ignorant
In Your luminosity.

Who am I
That You should care for me?
A wretched creature —
Yet destined for eternity.

How tiny I am
In Your vast universe;
And yet, invited,
With Your Heart to converse.

Participating
In Your joy and sorrow —
Through present, past
And all tomorrows.

In Your crosses, trials,
I can partake.
And thus in heaven
Your face will contemplate.

Winter Walk

Whipped-cream waves
Of frosty foam
And winter white.

Wind whips at your face;
Pull your hat on tight.

Weak heat of the sun,
But still so bright.

Something suddenly moves;
Now seagulls take flight.

The world is alive;
Let us walk in the light.

At the Cafe

At the cafe/grill — a Monday.
It’s slow at 9 a.m. —
Not the bustle of a Saturday.

Low, soft voices
Of Spanish and English;
The frying pan sizzling.

We’re the privileged —
A day off,
When everyone else works.

At the other cafe
I saw a man outside in the cold,
His head in his hand,
Mumbling to himself.

I feel so helpless sometimes
In wanting to help others.

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