No Rust Here

Our halos fell off
Many long years ago, or
Perhaps never once
Were ours, here to wear, joy share;
Life is bizarre now, never
The things one expects,
Disorganized, time of plague.
Disaster movies
Did not well prepare us all;
Constant stress, no withdrawal.
Government, all states
Of confusion, shattered gates,
Disillusion where
Clear-eyed justice is sorely
Needed in citizens’ control.
Pandemic, if we
Can believe it, some less so,
Numbers rising much
Higher, how can anyone
Deny contagion, people die.
If you love someone
Do not hesitate to tell
How much you love, care,
For as these days go onward
We can on little depend
Even less believe
In temporal existence;
We lack any guarantees.
Still, God sovereign reigns,
Even in this mess, we find rest,
When we share our love
With those who need to know all
Is not lost, for together
We will build futures,
Shoring up the brokenness
Living better than before.

Unwritten

I meant to write you
A letter, but somehow got
Lost without the time;
I told myself you’d not mind.
Sometimes I lose all my place
Slipping in between
The moments, the blanks in space,
I had the words set
To scribe but became waylaid
By other tasks and could not
Settle down enough
To do justice to the work.
So here is a poem
To say I regret having
Not written, maybe someday;
You never knew anyway.

As a prompt, create something about a task you mean to do, but never seem to get done.

Currents

Being who we are
Accepting what we have
Knowing the best is yet,
Allowing the is to be;
Smiling moon above the sea.

We behave ourselves
Absent any monitors,
Children sufficient
For this time in history;
Eagle flies freedom, glory.

Looking we reflect
Decisions hastily made
Pain never erased,
We run into the sunset;
A slice, life remains to get.

What once we wanted
We hardly recognize now
Health we keep praying,
God becomes more real than day;
Every voice some thoughts convey.

Something Different

I am bringing hand-written pieces less often. This one is a bit a mess, but I want to show process. It is written on dot paper, and I am not so good without lines to guide me. Anyway, it is a song. I used contractions, which is odd for me.

Subterfuge

Swatches From Ever

Each of these independently plays upon my sense of creativity—figments captive of imagination.

The color, roses
Tinting eggshells of blue, sky;
My feeling for you.

No one walks the sands,
Without gathering some dust,
Moments slide away.

Your face a window
Open to the breeze, captures
Your essential truth.

Wandering away
From who we used to be is
Our identity.

“Can I get you anything?”
“No, no, not really!”
All the while, I entertain
The dream of you taking me –
So I can give myself
Away with no reservations.