Son of Mary

Happy Easter everyone. Inspired by Leonard Cohen.

Son of Mary,
come along up the hill.
Look down into the valley.
Don’t you feel the thrill
of worship, of the praises?
So don’t resist. Take the pill.

Son of Mary,
come along up the hill.
Change the water into wine.
Let them drink their fill.
Feed the empty and the hungry
till they’ve had their meal.

Son of Mary,
come along up the hill.
Give us your tales and stories.
Heal the blind and the ill.
Teach us wisdom; teach us Truth.
Teach us the false from the real.

Son of Mary,
come along up the hill.
Spread your arms till they are wings.
Surrender your will.
Let the blood flood below.
Then the earth shall be still.

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This Old House

A ceiling above my head
The floor beneath my feet
Four walls around me
This old house moans and squeaks

Shadows paint the walls
Summers and ice cream days
Autumn leaves and Christmas trees
And all love says and doesn’t say

Thanksgivings come and go
Like suns into the sunset
And Christmas Eves too
Pass me much too quick

Standing in this room of mine
A witness of a former self
A ghost who has memories
Of love that is love and so much else

These my memories run
Through my heart like a river
Laughing, dancing and singing
Carrying me into forever

This cat of mine

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
looking, seeing, chasing

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
running, jumping, playing

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
climbing, digging, dashing

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
wandering, exploring, adventuring

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
sneaking, disappearing, hiding

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
meowing, cajoling, crying

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
scratching, rubbing, sunning

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine:
bathing, eating, sleeping

She is a curious thing, this cat of mine.
And when she purrs, it is a fine fine thing.

Poem for the day: Leaves

Occasionally I post a little something extra just for my readers’ entertainment. I thought this poem would be good for starting off the fall season. This poem started off when I was watching a movie. There was a scene of the main character walking down a pathway. The road was surrounded by trees. it was autumn and all the the leaves were yellow and red and orange. The setting was just a piece de resistance for the eye. 

yellow and gold
leaves float
ships upon air
breezes blow
onto the path
of winter
and snow
toward spring
and green

Late night meditation

It’s eleven p.m. The street is quiet.
Neighbors’ lights go out one by one
and soon the midnight hour
when only street lights shine.
In the kitchen, dishes in the sink,
an uncorked Cabernet
and a slice of wedding cake in the fridge.
Cat sprawls out on the couch.
On a chair, an open book,
a story half-unfinished,
with maps to the moon
and colored photographs.
Down the hall, the bed waits,
pillows propped two high
and clean sheets.