Category Archives: Universal Soul

This Life Is Proof

Where does the dream of mankind fly,
midst doors of giants and windowed sky?
How deep the love and longing keep
his soulful patience reaching high?
Where does the loudest lightening strike
that draws the heart of man to wake?
And what in fragrant forests keep
his love of nature for his own sake?

‘Tis here in mountains current sweep,
where blood runs thick from heart of God,
where rock and tree and sky compete
to win His smile and therein trod
the open eyes of man in wonder,
upon the depth of love so true,
that kiss in lightening and shout with thunder,
“This life is proof, no more need do!”

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Filed under Mountains, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Searching Vine

Midst emotion’s seas I’ve sailed,
unfurled canvas on wake’s deep trail,
with bolstered courage where fear had won,
afraid only to leave my search undone.
Yet my sextant’s plot was true,
through life’s strong tempests I was drawn to you…

Drifted dunes, Sahara’s seas,
my love for you by courage freed
these blistered soles and unquenched thirst,
until my eyes met yours in first
glimpse divined into our hearts,
your deepest kiss relieved my parched soul
from all its searching…

O’er mountain tops and canyons vast,
my heart searched long to hold you fast
and roll within such alpine bliss,
dwarfed only by your sweetest kiss…
Thus again, our paths entwined
eons over, in climbing vine,
‘tis you to whom my heart is bound.

In this life now again we’re found
in bliss of music, art and soul,
values’ measure in fullness rolls
into the thoughts of truth we seek,
so know our words before we speak.

Here know our souls belong as one,
and again my searching path is done…
complete here, in this life with you.

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Filed under Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul

Crossroads

Bound to crossroads tie where soul stands strong to go awry,
I find my missing person.
Lifted to one glimpse of you, I duck to hide the view,
deny this moment’s bought incursion.

I look beyond the epitaph that’s carved upon my head.
I see the scrolling dust entreat the road’s long line of thread.

Held to witless smile, wherein my peace remains a while,
I hope forgiveness granted.
Stoked from leeward ways of hell, I hear the knolling bell
foretell of all the pain there planted.

I squint against the razor’d sun that beads the sweat in dread.
I curse below my breath a prayer, entrust to Gabriel’s stead.

Drifted here alone, resulting from the life I’ve known,
I count out what is due.
Pained to bargain past the hack, I turn to see the black
regress through all the lies there true.

I count the locusts’ humming thrums that beckon summer’s dead.
I squeeze my aching heart’s parlay of lying back in bed.

Bought, the coursers fly! Amidst an ebb of dust stormed high,
I cast the prayer free.
Stilled to crossroads tying grit, I scold this honest bit
that brought this moment back to me.

I memorize the epitaph that’s carved from what I’ve said.
I hear my footsteps toil against the first push back to red.

So mark the sun, the road, the dust.
So count the hell in all of us.
So paid the price of what was mine.
So freed to follow this life’s line.

So my soul here granted.

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Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Embroidered Soul

Every moment’s living
pull’s a thin red thread of time,
unraveling temporal precepts,
stitching worldly mind.

Embroidered concepts fall away,
their threads drop to the floor,
imaged history just remains
in stains once stitched before.

Collective soul is fabric stretched
across the living span,
tensioned smart by good hearts there
and held by loving hands.

The tapestry, taut, is ours to fill,
ours to so design,
to color by our soul’s sweet purpose
and stitch in finest lines.

Yet blunder we, in stab or two,
tie a knot where none was due,
prick a spirit’s finger there
hope forgiveness grants repair.

But loving souls in holding taut
the fabric of our lives,
do guide the pattern’s tender care
if we, with open eyes
move on toward dreams with love,
move on beyond the fear –
trust in truth the needle’s dance
will grant good stitching here.

On walls in heaven’s quarters hang
the fabrics of our lives,
meant to show our purposed soul
embroidered by the dreams we try.

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Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Book and Tree

Golden_Pond

Beneath this giant’s green relief
the best adventure shown,
between the covers of books untold
are truths of life so few have known.

With aroma of a warm elixir
mixed throughout the pages,
here spin the spirit fat
and mix such with the stuff of sages.

Breezes top the canopy
above this place in time beholding,
treasures of the grandest sort,
stories read and poems here spoken.

No time holds fast the element
by which this purposed moment’s dealt,
so in reveals eternity,
in timelessness and color felt
between the musty pages
wherein so many hearts have thrilled,
or swooned in love to spoken words
and thereupon such goose bumps chilled.

So deep within a moment’s honey
run sweet the blessings of book and tree,
beneath a giant, green yet sunny,
wherein my stories’ told for me…

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Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

The Grebe and the Cat

Upon an autumn’s trail I’ve found
two odd, in strange acquaintance,
a cat and grebe paired face to face
relaxed and in repose,
comparing notes of season’s change
and summer’s last remittance,
conversing deep in subtle tones,
two friends here, I suppose.

The cat an elderly tabby,
scarred from years of living wild,
the grebe with strong appointed brow,
yet mannerisms mild.

Upon my frozen stance they stared,
me in my surprise,
how could man’s wisdom dare compare
to such a meeting wise.

They did not move, but simple gesture
requested I not barge in,
with nod and smile I backed me up
till quietly the two conversed again.

Now could it be in autumn’s magic
my ears and eyes deceived?
as quietly I stood and stared,
their conversation I perceived.

The cat recited Aesop’s story
of the crane and wolf and a bone so stuck,
that from the depth of the wolf’s keen jowls
the crane reached in and the bone did pluck.

The cat went on to warn the grebe
that nature’s law shall be upheld,
and so the wolf might eat the crane
while in his beak the bone he held.

The grebe shook his head and exclaimed,
“Above nature’s law few friendships made,
but you and I are one exception!”,
and so sat down in the autumn shade.

I stood in distant disbelief,
how could a friendship as this endure?
The cat, wild and cantankerous
would love to eat the grebe, for sure.

But there they sat in kind repose,
enjoying autumn’s calming prize,
so I returned upon my path,
with knowledge gained of friendship wise.

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Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Elena

Heart between the keys expressed
as elegant hands and fingers rest
among the ebon and ivory stays.
Soul released and softly dressed,
that through the music all’s confessed
and to the ether Elena plays.

The sheet before her longs her eye,
yields to her in black and white
yet dreams adagio dreams of bliss.
So folds a chord across the time,
fermata graced beyond the rhyme,
each note a sensual kiss.

The keys in pensive motions bend
to catch the passion her fingers lend
to every subtle stroke of heart.
Each note in reverberation rolls
and carries captive with her soul
the tender love in every part.

She knows no hesitation,
her elegance dressed in no disguise.
She plays her inspiration
and shares her heart through sweet reprise –
and so Elena plays.

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Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

This Silent Brook

Sit beside this silent brook
where time has claimed
two lovers’ flame.

Listen to the hush of trees
whose whispers calm
the past long gone.

Feel the passion’d moment stir
a silence in the air for her.
Hear two hearts in pounding quake
this very spot, this true love’s stake!

Scant the whispered grey rolls on
between the then and now.
Faint the temporal echoes ring
and to this present bow.

Sit and draw it in
till thin your question grows.
Trust your heart, have courage,
until it’s yours whose true love shows.

Hold this moment felt here,
keep it close to mind and heart.
Grasp this time, this present,
and to the temporal so impart
your love…

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Filed under Perspective, Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul

A Poet’s Ride (aka the Penny Horse)

What sets the place of commas
as from this fluent pen does fall?
What strokes the pause in thinking?
What dries the ink past question’s call?

Who pokes the sudden image
into the static matter, grey?
Who sets the syllables in line there,
before the truth, as hand paints lay?

Who feeds the silent horses
in wait to craft an image dear?
What stands the milk to crème
that brings the poet’s thoughts to clear?

When is that time for writing
where eyes watch hand take pen to task?
What time is it when landing ink
colorfully paints a recalled past?

How can it be these diverse things
call summing into moment’s hold,
that in one fractioned second spin
scant letters into gold?

Who is the muse of ethos
that keeps the meter bound to clay,
so guides the subtle shaping of
the image felt and cast to lay?

Here are my moments stolen
when from my day my pen takes hand.
Here is the wild ride, in crafting
what I know not comes to band
the ether’d thoughts in floating,
the melding of what’s known, unknown,
the growing of a story
from the clips of life my past has shown.

I ride without a payment,
no penny here have I,
but cast my journey sacred
and never think to wonder why.

This is my blessing, this is my curse,
and tho’ I ride with empty purse
I feel the gift is gold!
… and selfishly I’ll return to ride
until I’m just too old.

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Mountain Valley

Stretched across this mountain valley
and verdant sweeping slopes,
my soul relaxed in ether
bathes in nature’s loves and hopes.

Rich the forest floor in duff –
Loamy scent of fir and earth –
Harmonies on summer’s breeze –
Life whispered in the pine’s true worth –

Mountain meadow flowers bloom
in dreams of water colored hues.
A magpie perched as stoic guard
protects the “awe” ‘neath azure blue.

Through every tensiled fabric,
I sense this life, this current’s blood,
that into this I’m welcomed, drawn,
as soul and heart expand in flood.

Granite spired backdrop –
Sentient babbling brooks –
A pawing fawn yields a nod,
returns my loving looks –

Enraptured here, my spirit slain
by mountain’s giving life,
that I may see the thoughts of God,
and count this land my nature’s wife.

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Filed under Mountains, Nature, Poetry, Universal Soul