A Broader Range


While watching the birds go about their busyness of finding food this morning, this poem formed in my mind about how some things never change and how some things do.

A BROADER RANGE

As the birds were having breakfast

tiny bugs were being eaten,

floors were being swept

while rugs were being beaten.

The men about their business

were bringing home the pay

while women reared the children

whose job it was to play.

Birds still eat bugs for breakfast

the housework still gets done

the men still go to business

the children still have fun.

The moral of the story is

though some things do not change

the women in society

have gained a broader range.

Call on Your Power


It is my belief that deep within each of us is a Power to be used for the good of all as indicated by the following people including me.

You are never given a wish without also being given the Power to make it come true. Richard Bach

Never measure God’s unlimited Power by your limited expectations. Our Daily Bread 2010

Call on the Power inherent in you…(My poem, All Things are Possible)

The beginning of Power is consciously opening our minds to God and being receptive to his presence, his spirit, his voice and his will. Charles L. Allen

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of Power and love and self-control. 2 Timothy 1:7

And then there is the poem I wrote in 1998:

THE POWER OF YOU

If you would be more powerful

release your ego

let it soar

let the roar of you subside,

look inside,

see the power of you

released

to empower others.

1998

Our Power is not to be mistaken for the power wielded by those who use and abuse it because they feel basically powerless in their own right. That power is actually a weakness.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty Power. Ephesians 6:10

 

Awareness


Awareness is paying attention to the things that unfold in our lives that we would normally ignore. When we concentrate on awareness we realize that it is the little things in life that grab our attention and actually make us more aware. This has obviously been on my mind for several years because I have written two poems about being aware; one in 1979 and the other in 2016.

A NEW DIMENSION

Somewhere between each rising

and setting of the sun

a new dimension opens up

to each and everyone.

It’s there for us to welcome

a new challenge, a new day

we need only make ourselves aware

in every subtle way.

We need only make our senses

come alive, alert and more

responsive to the little things

we usually ignore.

So seek that new dimension

it’s there for everyone,

somewhere between each rising

and setting of the sun.

1979

ON BEING AWARE

With pleading voice

I asked the Lord

to make me more aware

and in that instant

watched a sparrow

catch an insect

in midair.

2016

Just for Today


It’s been awhile since a poem has composed itself in my mind and with never knowing what the next day will bring in this world of uncertainty, here is Just For Today:

Just for today…

may your sun shine a little brighter,

may your pain be less severe

may your eyes behold the beautiful

may sweet sounds fill your ear

may your thoughts be full of gladness

may good things come your way

may your heart be filled with love and peace

just for today.

 

An Odd Ode


Not one to let a day go by without putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboards), here is an attempt at putting Covid-19 in perspective from my point of view.

Ode to Covid-19

It’s been nearly ten weeks now

Since I’ve been out the door

to visit all the places

I frequently explored.

My mind is playing tricks on me

I thought today was Sunday

and went online to church today

but it’s already Monday.

I’ve been told to “Stay at home!” 

’cause I’m considered old

which wasn’t what I thought I was

until Corona Virus took its hold.

Stay home and social distance

if someone comes your way,

and don’t forget to wash your hands

several times a day!”

My hands are very chapped and dry

from all that soap and water;

to add excitement to my life

I bought a teeter-totter.

The problem is there’s no one here

to weight the other end;

in order to get up again

I have to just pretend.

Which brings me to the closure

of this rambling bit of verse;

I hope my mind can stay the course

if this Virus gets much worse!
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Garden Not Forgotten


It’s time to put a poem on the page. This was written for a gentleman in long term care in 2005. His name was Mr. Flowers and learning that I wrote poetry, he asked if I would write a poem for him. Hence A Garden Not Forgotten. This was first posted in 2014. Happy Saturday.

A garden full of flowers

tended in the mind with care

or tended not at all

if wildflower seed is planted there

will reap its keeper plenitude

in fragrant showy splendor

and bring the memory of spring

come blustery December.

Blooms spring forth upon the mind,

deep wine rose and purple phlox,

daffodils of yellow,

multicolored hollyhocks

replace the snow and blizzards

in the darkened winter hours

and keep alive in mind’s great eye

that garden full of flowers.

Mind’s garden keeps on growing;

wild winds and winter snow

won’t whip the fragrant flowers

that mind has come to grow.

The seeds are firmly planted

in the fertile soil of thought

where that garden full of flowers

also blooms forget-me-nots.

2005

IF


We are living in a time of “if’s” right now and my Pastor reminded me of Rudyard Kipling’s poem which I am going to share with you today because we need to keep our heads, we need to meet with triumph and disaster; we need the Will that keeps us holding on. I’ll just alter the final line a bit…”and – which is more- our battle will be won”.

Rudyard KiplingBy Rudyard Kipling More Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

 

When It Hurts


Yesterday, I learned that someone was deeply hurt by cutting remarks of another and remembered a little poem that had come to me several years ago in similar circumstances.

Forgive us oh my Father,

We know not what we do,

For when we’re hurting others

We’re also hurting you.

Happy Sunday.

 

 

Saturday Lightheartedness


Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words…and then sometimes a few words can paint a picture, like this one I found on Pinterest which reminded me of my silly little Oliver Owl poem. Happy Saturday. (Original post for today will be posted tomorrow).

OLIVER OWL

Oliver Owl is a happy old bird

as wise as wise can be.

He makes his home in the forest

at the top of an old pine tree

He dines on delicate insects

and wears his feathers well,

they appear as a fine tuxedo

in shades of brown eggshell.

Oliver’s eyes are round and bright,

they help him to plainly see

through the dark, dark night in the forest

at his home in the old pine tree.

©2005

Spooky

 

“The Moon is Always Full”


In 2014 when my memoir, “My Precious Life” was published, I was working on a book of poetry, in the works for over forty years. “The Moon is Always Full” is now about a week away from printing. This is a sample cover of the book which contains one-hundred-and-twenty-nine poems, including thirty-one in haiku form.

This is proof positive that we are never too old to start something new. Having been on this planet for eighty-one-plus years, each day continues to be an opportunity to welcome new ideas and seek new horizons. Carpe diem!

Questions and feedback are most welcome.

THE MOON IS ALWAYS FULL

Once a month…

sometimes twice,

the full moon is revealed:

but when it’s on the wane

that fullness seems concealed.

Its many phases mark the heavens,

earth’s tides reveal its pull

the naked eye may yet espy

the moon is always full.

©Patricia Ann Boyes