The Feast

The white mantle of Winter’s robe descends
Upon the frozen land.
Grey clouds adorn the crown of earth
As the chill of day
Rides the wind.
My heart is a blaze,
As tho the center of the Yuletide feast,
Raging with sparks of joy
And kindl’d by desire.
Come close,
Be warmed,
The hall is filled with merriment,
The keep in boughs of green.
Let us drink the toast together,
Unite our voices in laughter,
Entwine our hearts in the Season,
And go forth as one.

The Wish

There is a story told ’round fires bright,
Of an ancient birth, which was to set the world right.
But due to man’s inhumanity to man,
Turmoil ruled throughout the land.
So in that Spirit of the birth of old
May I wish you a season and a year of gold,
Blest with love, faith and humanity.
This I pray to God, in all sincerity.

The Eve 1973

I bow my head in prayer and ask the Father of us all for guidance.
It is the Eve of the most hallowed day in all of Christendom, and I am alone.
He was born among us, then died among us,
Yet He too was alone when forsaken.
The choir sings its anthem as flames of candles dance,
Casting light upon the humble congregation.

Where is the future?
Where is my new birth?

Whisper softly, “Merry Christmas.”

Christmas 1995

Years ago,
Lost in the haze of time,
Stuck between graduation and Viet Nam,
I changed.
Yet in the vast scheme of life,
During Christmas,
I find myself again.
What a magical time,
A Holy time
Of Spiritual birth and re-birth.
Wish it would last forever,
For there is no pain
At Christmas.

The End

Somewhere across the void of time,
I left behind the soul of my existence,
And with the lonely lost feeling I experience
within my heart,
I know I will die.

I dream of a silent, unending death
of contentment, a sublime peace,
but mine will be a violent end,
struggling to the last in search
to find what I am made of
and what my purpose serves?

You the passing traveler use my thoughts
and life as a game.
A game to satisfy your beliefs,
to satisfy the continual movement of your
blind pattern,
thru a maze of destined hope.

I will be dead
before you knew I lived.

Simply Hard

It is the simplest task,

to love.

But the hardest task,

to find.

Night

Gentle night, quiet blackness,
Close friend of my youth,
Approach, as you have so often,
Unannounced.
Sliding into all the corners of my day,
Capturing beams of light,
Till you enfold yourself about me,
Touching my being with a caress of peace,
An embrace of solitude,
As if you wanted and needed me.

Footsteps

The night has been long
And somewhere off in the East
The morning light hovers
Out of sight.
Here the evening is dark and cold.
My tears make a storm
As I lie alone.
I listen for those familiar footsteps
Of my youth,
But only silence
Greets my ears.

Morning

Rub the sleep from your eyes,
Night is banished.
The hour has come.
Sent from a most Holy place,
A willow wind blows through the nodding firs,
And a new day is conceived.
In the westward sky,
A star makes it journey
Leaving a blazing path in the lofty fall.
To the East,
Glows the crimson announcement
Of a far greater glory arising to meet the heavens.
It’s happening,
Amid the chorus song of birds,
Amid the silent yawn of flowers,
Morning awakens.

Cell Block

Each of us

Are prisoners

Within

A single

Cell.

Convicts of life

And

Fugitives from the unknown.

Paroled only when

We’ve served

Out

Our time

Confined.

*based on William Inge’s “The Pad”

Basic Training

With some unknown sense
I felt his stare
upon my neck.
He stalk’d me,
trail’d my every move
and now
victory was in his reach.
I turned slowly,
gazed into my enemy’s eyes
and knew I was finished.
He laughed,
smiled and taunted,
then fired.
I grabbed my burning stomach,
and fell to the ground
still hearing his laughter.
I would get even
after lunch,
for war was only a game
when we were young.

*My 1970 Protest Against Viet Nam. This piece is just as relevant today as it was when first written.

It’s Alright

As a small boy,
When bad dreams caused me to wake in tears,
Mother’s hands would softly stroke my head,
Her tender voice would calm me,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

Youth brought scraped knees
Plus many growing pains.
Mother tended my wounds,
And soothed my frustrations,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

When adulthood came,
It found me in uniform.
A nation in conflict upon a foreign soil.
Mother’s letters would arrive,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

Careers have come and gone,
I’ve search for myself
In varied identities,
And always my Mother’s prayers,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

Recently, Mother passed away
As gently as she lived.
The other night, as tho in childhood again,
A dream caused me to wake in tears,
And I heard my Savior’s voice,

“It’s alright my son
I’m right beside you.”

In memory of Doris “Pat” Hand-Glock
1-11-25/1-17-94

Happy Mother’s Day

Another Season

The seasons now come and go,
far quicker then they did
when I first started upon this destined path.

I remember the journey much more crowded in my youth,
only a few remain to pause and chat about the
Springs and Summers gone.

It seems but a tear ago I was running across fields,
baseball glove in hand
my best friend tail wagging beside me.

The Fall now brings me more solace than they did,
as I feel its gentle breeze at my back
and the chill of Winter greeting my cheeks.

My destination is but a dream or two away,
a slumber deeper than known before
and Eternal Spring the reward.

Sand Castles

When I was a child between nine and ten
On a summer’s morn through a shady glen,
I’d run to a quiet cove to play
In the sea, and the sand, and the sun all day.
White gulls cried on the freshening breeze,
Hov’ring on currents of air with ease.
I watched and dream’d as the clouds sailed by,
For my days were as long as a lazy sigh.
I sang; I laughed; I danced with the hours,
And I built a castle with fine, high towers.
Bejeweled with shells of bright pink and pure white;
I hoped and prayed it would stand all night,
But the tide came hurling and roaring in
With awesome power and quarrelsome din,
And in spite of building strong and well,
Besieged by the sea, my castle fell.
Later I wept at the foam-washed sand
That looked untouched by my childish hand.
It was ready now for another to mold
Into a castle with towers so high, so bold
And flying buttresses bejeweled and grand
Made out of dreams and fine golden sand.
They too would pray that it would not fall
When the tireless sea besieged its wall.
They too, as I, would return to the shore,
And see that the sea was quite as before;
So it will be again and again,
So it is ever in the wide world of men.

When I Grow Up

When I grow up I’m gonna be
A pirate brave n’ bold.
An’ when I am a pirate,
I’ll search for hidden gold.

I’ll have a great big ship
With sails of white unfurled.
Then I’ll have a jolly pirate crew,
An’ we’ll sail around the world.

I’ll hoist the Jolly Roger
As we terrorize the Main,
Then, when we get the hang of it,
We’ll do it once again.

We’ll search for diamonds, pearls an’ rubies
To bring back for the Queen;
They will be the biggest things
That she has ever seen.

We might even sail to Egypt
To travel up and down the Nile.
I’ll show the world I’m not afraid
Of any crocodile…

Gosh! It’s gettin’ dark and scary
It must be kind of late,
I think my mom is calling me
Beside our back-yard gate.

But, when I’m very grown up,
I’ll be as brave as I can be
‘Cause I’m gonna be a pirate
When I go off to sea.

Friendship’s Candle

In days past,
when all lead simpler lives,
Friendships were silent contracts of honor,
love a term of tenderness
and devotion a badge of trust.
There was a gentle custom
of burning a candle in the window,
which sent its beacon
into the dark night.
Its light
guided all to warmth of hearth,
safety of shelter
and security of kin and friends.
What a joy and comfort,
as one travels this weary path,
to see a glowing candle
burning bright within a window of a heart.

Keep Dreaming

I’ve dream’t dreams that have never come true,
And I have seen them vanish at dawn,
Yet enough of my dreams have come true
To make me keep on dreaming.

Forget

I wish I could forget
All those memories
That bring me pain.
Those I cherish
Or those of particular sadness.
The good thoughts
Are the ones that hurt
The most.

Tombstone

Man is born to live,
Lives to die,
And all so short.

Man is born with love,
Lives with envy,
And dies with hate.

Romantic

Whatever happened to long walks
In the park together?
Or snowball fights
On a Winter’s day?
Whatever happened to holding hands
At the movies?
Or a kiss on the cheek
For no reason at all?
Whatever happened to cuddling
In front of a blazing fire?
Or eating dinner by candle light?
Whatever happened to being a romantic
And falling in love?

The Hawk

Majestic in its solitude,

Noble in its flight,

Soaring on the breath of God,

Surveying the vast terrain beneath.

It is with awe I watch and joy behold.

Drift

      Oh endless Spirit

Soar to heaven and beyond

There united, past and present

A happy reunion.

The Past

The past
Is like moving away from home.
No matter how far
You roam,
No matter how long
You stay away,
A part of it echoes
In the valley of your heart.

Waves

Coming out of everywhere

Standing for a brief moment

in full glory

Then foaming off to eternity.

The Moment

In silence I bow my head
And kneel before my Lord.
In that moment, I give thanks for all my life,
Life with its pleasures
And life with its pains.
It is at that time I am most humbled
And most inadequate.
Yet, he gives the peace and the calm needed
To face the world and tasks He has planned.
I have no regrets,
For I am in His will
And most importantly,
His love.