Inventions to enrich our lives, fill every corner, nook, and crack, Screens that glow and flash and shift, compute, process, display and track. Hush the screaming lights and sounds, seek refuge in some quiet place, Loose the chains that tie the mind, Take on a calmer slower pace.
The rhyming star is a fickle friend, With mystic rays that shimmer and bend, Around and past the would be poet, With fullest heart though none may know it. Visions of beauty and scenes in his mind, Are trapped without outlet and won't be defined, 'Till lamely he finds a flavorless phrase, Lost in a labyrinthian linguistic maze. "I was not born under a rhyming star", He howls in despair to the silence afar, An echo returns with taunting and spite, So he sets down his pen and calls it a night.
Way back in the dark ages when I was single and in college, I seriously contemplated spending the time and money required to get my private pilots’ license. I even went so far as to get a few hours behind the controls of a Cessna 182. It was enough to convince me I would love it and that I couldn’t afford to maintain it as a hobby if I was ever going to have a family. I gave up my quest before my first “solo” flight. I was disappointed, but accepted my fate with magnanimity; knowing that my first solo … Read the rest
The truth will set you free they say, Give you strength and show the way. Help you stand when threats come strong, Make clear the route to carry on. Sometimes it's true that truth is kind, Healing hands and heart and mind. But all too oft it carries weight, Truths that grind, and crush, and grate. A knowledge of a harsher sort, Breaks through to light, a sharp retort. The darkened hearts that plot and plan, To hurt, oppress, and exploit man. Patterns followed o'er again, Truth and right now labeled sin. Done before, the outcome's clear, But boldly on,… Read the rest