To End All Wars

 

 

 

 

 

We prayed for peace, yet
in Sarajevo a shot was fired
and the world exploded
into yet another war.

We prayed this war would
end all wars, that peace would win.
And it worked for awhile,
maybe twenty-odd years.

World War Two; the Cold War;
Korea; Vietnam; the Gulf War;
9/11; Afghanistan; Iraq.
When will they end?

Still we hope and pray for peace
to last — until the next nut
or zealot comes along,
pulls another trigger,
and starts another war.

We sigh and cry for peace,
dreading the next conflict,
yet we never seem to appease
all the fanatics, or
collect all the nuts.

Depressing Day

Gray , gray,
my day is gray
the sky, the trees, even
the dried grasses in fields and ditches,
once vibrant green and gold,
seem grubby in this grayness
that clouds my eyes today.

I stare out the window and see
such an absence of life. Except for
those black & white magpies;
they don’t help, either,
grunting as they feast on
summer’s withered berries.
The past is gray; the future’s murky,
even the dove of peace is
grungy at this moment.

What is the purpose of today, anyway,
and why am I here to see it?
Shall I just slip away in these waves
of gray washing over me, sweeping
all the castles in the air
my ego has been building
into dark clouds that drench me.
“Just get over it,” a nagging voice
repeats, “Get on with life.”

Will there be a future,
a day the colors all return?
A morning when the sun shines,
when songbirds are singing to me again,
Oh, for a kindly voice to say
this gray won’t last.
A friend to remind me that
“It” (like this gray day)
comes — to pass.”

LOOKING FORWARD

I’ve shut the door on Yesterday,
Its sorrows and mistakes;
I’ve locked within its gloomy walls
Past failures and heartaches.
And now I throw the key away
To seek another room,
And furnish it with hope and smiles,
And every springtime bloom.

No thought shall enter this abode
That has a hint of pain,
And every malice and distrust
Shall never therein reign.
I’ll shut the door on Yesterday,
And throw the key away—-
Tomorrow holds no doubt for me,
Since I have found Today.

Author Unknown to me

Happy New Year!

Wishing everyone many joys and blessings in 2015. I treasure you all and the input you’ve had in my writing this past year, all the Likes and encouraging comments. Do check out my Tree Top Haiku blog, too. It’s active now.

This morning I’m thinking that our new year can be compared to a fresh fall of snow blanketing the scene. In one way the topography is completely changed. We’re heading out and, if we’re making progress, we will be going uphill. We can’t see very far ahead. For some of us the hill may prove rather steep and for some the trip will be easy, where we can lope along, enjoying the newness of it all.

However, we may trip over lumps, slip on rocks, or step into potholes. We may lose our balance, but I trust we will right ourselves and keep on. Being human, though, there are when we haven’t the strength in ourselves to carry on, or the wisdom to find our balance again. So let’s put our hand in the hand of God and let Him uphold and energize us.

Now here’s a good New Year’s plan for us all — first posted Jan 1, 2013. The author is unknown to me; I’ve taken it from the 1997 Friendship Book of Francis Gay:

No grumbling, no sulking, no feuding, no fighting,
  But looking and planning for things to delight in!
No hating the state of the world every minute,
  But seeking and finding the beauty that’s in it.
No worrying and letting your troubles confound you,
  But laughing and liking the people around you!

The Heart Mender; A Great Read

I just finished reading a terrific book and would like to tell you about it, in case you’re searching for a great read. It’s called The Heart Mender, written by Andy Andrews, a NY Times Best-Selling Author.

What happens when an old cape myrtle tree dies on the Alabama coast? Well, the owner of the property, writer Andy Andrews, chops it down because the tree is next to his house and its wood contains highly flammable oils. Then when he chops it down, his wife urges him to dig it up. And when his shovel hits something metallic — a gallon-size can — nestled among the tree roots…

One of the greatest joys a writer can have is to uncover something amazing, something perturbing, something that points to a story. Something he just can’t leave alone; he has to find out the facts. In the case of this particular writer, he digs and digs until he uncovers the whole amazing account.

What happens when a bitter young widow whose husband was killed in a Luftwaffe bombing raid in England meets a member of Hitler’s navy? What does she do when she stumbles onto a wounded German submarine officer on the beach in Alabama? She punches him in the face. Doesn’t matter if he’s been shot and is now half-dead. She punches him again and again, until she’s exhausted.

And thus begins this fascinating tale of forgiveness and second chances. For more details, see:
http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Mender-Story-Second-Chances/dp/078523229X/

 

Promises

An ancient story
of forgiveness extended
mankind preserved
covenant renewed
divine guidance offered—
signed by God’s hand—
unfurled in each rainbow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it,
that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God
and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth.”
— Genesis 9:16

Miracle Plant

resurrection plant
from lifeless to vibrant green
believe in miracles

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thus saith the Lord GOD unto these bones; Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you,
and ye shall live: And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you,
and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live;
and ye shall know that I am the LORD.”
Ezekiel 36: 5-6

Friendship

 

 

 

 

 

 

by Edgar Guest

You do not need a score of men to laugh and sing with you;
you can be rich in comradeship with just a friend or two.
You do not need a monarch’s smile to light your way along;
through weal or woe a friend or two will fill your days with song.

So let the many go their way and let the throng pass by;
the crowd is but a fickle thing which hears not when you sigh.
The multitudes are quick to run in search of favorites new,
and all that man can hold for grief is just a friend or two.

When winds of failure start to blow, you’ll find the throng has gone —
the splendor of a brighter flame will always lure them on,
but with the ashes of your dreams and all you hoped to do
you’ll find that all you really need is just a friend or two.

You cannot know the multitude, however hard you try:
it cannot sit about your hearth; it cannot hear you sigh;
it cannot read the heart of you, or know the hurts you bear;
its cheers are all for happy men and not for those in care.

So let the throng go on its way and let the crowd depart;
but one or two will keep the faith when you are sick at heart;
and rich you’ll be, and comforted, when gray skies hide the blue,
if you can turn and share your grief with just a friend or two.

From the Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest
© 1934 by the Reilly & Lee Company

Crickets

sun melts last night’s snow
drives off winter one more time
a few crickets chirp

The Messenger

A lone Canada goose —
acting as ambassador? —
returns from another flock,
calling out his communiqué
as he lights among his own.
Seems to be tidings of cheer;
the whole flock is rejoicing.