13

 

 

ashes to ashes
dust to dust
glass
sand
ocean
rust
heart to heart
gather stone
cheek to cheek
blood and bone
tie a ribbon
hoe
mend
back to back
end to end
touch my heart
feel my soul
make me new
growing old
fall in love
then fall out
make amends
turn about
bend my ear
twist my arm
make Love
do no harm

 

 

12

.

.

.

the train
 
 
he sat on the train
moving between cities
that all looked the same
next to him was a man in spectacles 
with a five o’clock shadow 
appearing long in the setting sun 
reading a plotting poison pen letter
as they passed over the miles
of neatly trimmed hedges
and buttoned-down backyards
lined with the well tended rose
and he wondered how long
it would take to reach the farm
and if elizabeth
was a good name for a cow
 
.
.
.
 
 
 
 
 
.
.
.
my poem for may play, at tspoetry
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
 

revelation

.

.

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, 
as clear as crystal,flowing from the throne of God and of
the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city.
On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing
twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month.
And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. 
No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of
the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. 
They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. 
There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a
lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. 
And they will reign for ever and ever.
.
.
.

9

.
.
.
beauty
i have always wanted a body to adorn me
i think that will bring to me love and acceptance
even my own
though i never thought i had beauty
i still desire
i compare my body and labels and trivialities 
my body is in the process of decay
now beyond denial
i detect life within
and perhaps
a Love resides there
some kind of beauty grows there
God is taking away dead layers
allowing new birth within
my soul is His
His garden
i know
the layers will go
 
 
.
.
.
.

6

.
.
.
 
soft howling 
bloody lonesome
was the wind
around my head
quiet down
now
quiet down
my heart
will hear you
and i can’t go 
around moaning
like a school girl
in love
with the
notion of
warm breath
and first kisses
.
.
.
 
 

new studio

.

An idea came to me.  How about a studio on wheels?
Watercolour, acrylic, coloured pencils…here we go.
 
Yesterday, i went around in the traveling studio, and
thought it was pretty cool to be able to work near the
library and the post office for awhile.
 
Who knows where the studio will be next.
Maybe a park, along a country road, in another state…
.
.
 
.
The above photo was taken behind coffee cottage in down-town
newberg, looking south. You are looking at a car repair shop
and car lights going by.
 
.