Black butterfly
On angel’s wings.
A brown and common
Bird that sings.
A blade of grass
That no one sees.
A quiet child,
A bright sunbeam.
They pass her by —
Nothing unusual.
She sits and sighs —
It’s life as usual.
Black butterfly
On angel’s wings.
A brown and common
Bird that sings.
A blade of grass
That no one sees.
A quiet child,
A bright sunbeam.
They pass her by —
Nothing unusual.
She sits and sighs —
It’s life as usual.
What is in your heart?
I cannot know,
Except through long years,
And even then, my picture is incomplete.
What can we know of others?
Only by what they say and do,
But mostly by what they do.
How can I know you?
Will I ask you many questions?
Will you lie or tell the truth?
How can I live with you,
Unless we are both honest,
Although honesty can hurt.
How can I love you
Unless I know you?
How can I know you
Unless you share your heart?
How can I love you? —
Tell me your story —
That may be the start.

For twinkle in my father’s eye,
For mother’s constant sacrifice,
For precious, awesome gift of life –
I give thanks.
For patient husband, children too,
Grandparents, siblings, nephews, too,
For cousins, in-laws, nieces few,
I give thanks.
For teachers full of expertise,
(Those projects – staying up ‘til three) –
But passed on knowledge expertly –
I give thanks.
For fellow students com’radarie,
For late night chats, and shared coffee,
For sharing notes (I’m panicking!) –
I give thanks.
To friends who shall remain unnamed;
Like parents, they did guide my sail,
Much wisdom did their words contain –
I give thanks.
For other friends, who stood nearby,
When I could not then socialize
(They really do deserve a prize) –
I give thanks.
But most of all to God above,
His plan, His purpose keeping on —
I couldn’t have done it without His love –
I give thanks!
(June, 2016)
[ The point being … we’re all capable of evil, and of good (with God’s grace).]
Have you ever been the bad guy –
A miserable place to be?
The Prodigal’s older brother,
The blinded Pharisee?
The hypocrite, the legalist,
The demonstrator with tight-clenched fist?
The Nazi soldier, the Khmer Rouge –
They make you quake within your shoes.
The foreigner, the substance dealer,
The liars, and the false faith healers.
The person of another faith,
The race that seems your hate to bait.
The gossip, and unfaithful wife,
The married couple locked in strife.
The person who distracts, annoys;
Manipulates with sneaky ploys.
And when I am the bad guy,
I pray, you’ll pray for me.
And when you are the bad guy,
I’ll do the same for thee.
TIME TICKING ON
Are you the clay,
Formed by His loving hands?
Are you the stone,
Taking life as it stands?
Does now His loving will
Flow through You, keeping still?
Does saying “Yes” to Him
Give you the biggest thrill?
Are you the canvas now,
Letting His colors run?
Are you the tapestry
His weaving has begun?
Are you now in the boat
Tossed on the storm-swept sea?
But with Him in your boat
Sure that still safe you’ll be?
Time keeps on ticking on;
One day we’ll all be gone.
Be sure you’ll ready be
For heaven’s ecstasy.
Like little princess
She sits on paws;
With innocent looks
And ferocious jaws.
With purr so loud
And conspicuous meow,
She says to me,
“Please take me out.”
With sharpest talons
She persuades,
As if to tell us,
“Please cut my nails.”
With little jumps,
She turns around;
She says, “Let’s be
For bedroom bound.”
When younger,
You could throw a toy,
And she would fetch
With happy joy.
And on my lap
She likes to sit,
Especially when
At screen I sit.
In the middle of the night,
I hear distantly
A roaring motorcycle
And trucks on the freeway.
Near dawn, I wake again.
The freeway is humming
With many more vehicles.
Then a bird nearby
Is singing,
And squirrels run gaily
Across the roof.
And nothing can compare
To the morning air –
Not any other wonderful thing.
Book Review: Vikings at Dino’s
My friend Will Duquette has written a fun, frolicking, time-travel fantasy novel entitled Vikings at Dino’s: A Novel of Lunch and Mayhem. The hero, a small man for his age, endures encounters with Vikings, ancient Romans, and Mongols, all within his own little American town of Corey’s End. Or are these invaders really who they seem to be? And the poor man never seems to be able to eat his lunch in peace.
There’s danger, adventure, romance, and a thread of humor throughout the hero’s first person narrative. What more could you ask for? The violence, barely hinted at (no gory details), is of the comic-book type, mainly there to create the conflict and challenges for the hero.
Did I mention that the hero is a software engineer? Computer geeks and other assorted nerds should have no trouble relating to this story. This includes my husband and 23-year-old son, who both enjoyed the novel. (They might object to my classification of them, though.)
Perhaps my only quibble with the book is that the author makes the Roman types seem nicer than what I know of ancient Romans; for example, they perfected the practice of crucifixion (although it seems to have begun with the ancient Persians).
At any rate, when you’re small for your age … anything can happen. Well worth the read.
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