america the beautiful(ly broken)

post-Christian nation

still wrestles with her past sins

may God have mercy

image from divinesteelarts.com

aki no koe (autumn’s voice)

We’re grateful to live where autumn ripens into a real season. Fields of corn and soybeans dry, then die to be harvested by hungry combines. The trees shed their modest summer greenery and commence puttin’ on the ritz in shades of russet, rich brown, gold, and burnt orange.

We’ll admit to overdosing on pumpkin: picked from pumpkin patch, decorating our doorstep, carved into jolly jack-o-lanterns, made into moist muffins or perfect pie, sipped as pumpkin-spice flavored coffee or chai.

We all enjoy sitting closer with family or neighbors around blaze of bonfire, roasting sticks in hand, as the sun goes down. Even the dogs and cows put on warmer coats.

when outdoor temps dip

make s’mores in microwave

marshmallows puff up

Linking to dVerse poets where Linda Lee Lyberg hosts autumn haibun. Photo of my grandson who is 3 today!

life is brief

we’re but passing mist

our lifespan a breath of God

shadows seen through fog

James 4:14

disconnect & despair

whose eyes are windows to the soul
why do dark orbs seem lifeless?
where does one go to find comfort
when look away, turn inward?

cannot escape matrix of mind
confused thoughts circle nowhere
conflicted feelings cloud the heart
consequences prove painful

leave parents; later, spouse and home
lean into self-reliance
learned fear of real intimacy
lest empty self be disclosed

force cannot move one to love or
form friendships deeper than surface
for communication requires
foundational integrity

______________

Traditional Mongolian Meter requires quatrains written in lines of 7 to 8 syllables, each line head-rhymed with alliteration being a prominent element of the form. Grace at dVerse explains a head-rhyme as being “the first consonant of each line matching.

in real time

retirement arrived

finally unexpectedly

what does it mean??

too tired / put on new wheels

older & wiser (we can hope)

still too young to die!

(Lord willing)

got some good years ahead

to leave lasting imprint

(or learn at last to listen)

golden & embolden

dance a brave attempt

who cares / what

people think

be the real (old) you / me

restless dreamers

remodel our lives

unparalleled

committing

random acts of poetry

interlude

autumn’s lost robin
standing guard in our back yard
protects last apple

transition takes time

“so when is moving day?”
some people want to know
for us, it isn’t just one day
we like to move in slow!

a year ago we purchased house
(now it’s been even longer)
as we remodel step by step
the feel of home grows stronger

first, old windows must replace
peel popcorn from the ceiling
plain doors and cupboards to remove
each mess we make needs dealing

a crew comes in to texture,
ceilings and walls they paint
we’re trying to retire…
do all ourselves? we caint!

design a stone face fireplace
and nail barn wood on wall
saw, stain and poly (bases covered)
new cabinets installed

meanwhile, back at farmhouse
i’m organizing stuff that
we’ve accumulated over years
past time to say, “enough!”

to pack in box, give, throw away
can be hard to decide
when love is moving memories
old treasures offer ride

each time i drive to new house,
i bring a little more
basement done, put books on shelves
down there full boxes store

plank floor, appliances are in
it’s time to move the rest
sons and wives take many loads
you know, they’re just the best!

it’s taking time to organize
(waiting on dining set)
he builds a shed, re-does garage
no, we’re not finished yet!

yo is a saint, bro!

in latin formality, the roman

catholic church names saints:

Augustine, Teresa, Peter, Francis,

but we protest(ants) read our

Bible as saying we’re all saints

(all who believe, anyway) yeah,

you…you…you, and me, too!

thattsa holy whole lotta sainthood

sooo y’all (all of us livin’ in da ‘hood,

that is), let’s live…gotta live alive!

live in the light of the knowledge

that we, yes, WE (you and me)

reflect the very Glory of God which

we see in dear face of Jesus Christ!!

and remember now, it’s HIS glory

(not our own) so live humble-like

‘cuz we’re just jars of clay holdin’

the most precious treasure, the

Holy Spirit…jars fired in his kiln

and offerin’ his light to dark world,

go on now, bro, let the light SHINE!!

___________________________

Inspiration from sermon by Pastor Tim Ouwinga (entitled “Called to Be Saints: Humility) and 2 Corinthians 4: 6 & 7and my bro, Dale.

heron’s haunts

crickets ‘n crawdads sing off-key
in surreal dream left condemned
on river surrounded by marshland
of carolina’s backwaters…look away
like empty windows that stare coldly
as lonely boat cradles dead body in
hull…cut memory loose, let it drift
through mind’s dark tunnel beyond
plaster and bricks’ clayed dilapidation


Written in response to d’verse ekphrastic prompt featuring art by Lee Madgwick. The previous evening, I’d watched the film, “Where Crawdads Sing,”based on book by same title.

smellybean…then eat!

“Love, but be careful what you love,” (Augustine)

if you ever have an extra jellybean

whatever flavor is fine to my bellybean


juicy burst of sweetness tastes swellybean


but one’s not enough, we can tellybean


let’s go down to the local delibean


and buy biggest sack they sellybean

brilliance

morning sun breaks through

rain clouds radiate glory

God smiles with favor

photo by lynn

c’mon, man!

Mr. Biden, see southern border?
we do believe in law and order
you must protect Americans all
and finish work of building wall

immigrants need line and gate
but now pour in without restraint
since you’ve extended invitation
drugs/sex traffickers invade nation

and what about Afghanistan?
your evacuation had no plan
abandoned friends to awful fate
left weapons there (terrorist bait)

Afghan women’s rights now gone
children’s school studies done
cut short dreams of future bright
Al-Qaeda’s back, ready to fight

all you know is how to spend
another billion, when does it end?
we taxpayers must pay the bill
for national debt we cannot fill

a president without a clue
stumbles over word and shoe
I do not like to make a fuss
but two more years may ruin us!

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