We wait this day with hopeful hearts.
A king arrives today
with entourage and promises
of a grand and glorious day.

He will ride a great white stallion,
lead an army fierce and strong,
free us from our captive state,
make right the painful wrongs

inflicted by our conquerors.
We feel the lash and rack
but now at last the time has come
to take our freedom back.

(A bystander interrupts the man’s waiting)

Please, kind sir, can you not see
I’m waiting for our king?
I have no time to hear your tale.
I wait to shout and sing.

A babe, you say, in a manger stall?
That happens every day.
Why should I see this one who lays
in ordinary hay?

I’m waiting for the sword to cut
the bonds of slavery,
vanquish captors, once for all
and bring us liberty.

(The bystander departs)

That man’s a fool.  He thinks a babe
will make a difference here.
Another child born to the poor
to live in dread and fear.

What keeps the king?  He is delayed.
We’ve waited for so long
to see his armor, sword and spear,
to raise our victory song!

Well, hours have passed and he’s not here.
Perhaps I’ll take a chance
to see this child in manger hay,
just take a passing glance.

But to my shock and disbelief,
as in a magic trance,
I looked upon the lovely child
around whom angels danced.

A manger king?   Can this be true?
But what of sword and spear?
Perhaps I never realized
that love could be so near,
so personal, so intimate
dispelling hate and fear.

When he becomes a full-grown man,
he’ll challenge tyranny,
demand that justice, truth and love
join with integrity
to change the course of humankind,
to truly set us free.

 

 

We are ready in the desert Southwest!  Sorry, it’s the best we could do.
More of these than trees.
For all my desert friends, I hope you have a non-sticky,
non-pokey Christmas filled with joy and spiritual delight.
For all my non-desert friends, the same to you.  Just
leave out the non-sticky, non-pokey part.

Peace to all!  The Light is coming!

 

Yes, even blog sites.

Poetry Place is no more.  Welcome to Desert Writer, actually the same site with a different name.  I have thought about the change for several months.  I feel a need to broaden the site to include more than poetry only.  So, my intention is to post poetry, short commentaries, reflections, stories…in other words, diversity.  I sincerely hope you will find blessing in the postings and that you will continue to “follow” the site into the future.  If you have not “followed” my work and desire to do so, please click on the Follow box in the lower right hand corner of the home page.  You will, then, receive an email each time I post something…a gentle notice to check the site, which, by the way, is desertwriter.org   Thank you so much for your encouragement and support.  Shining Spirit (shiningspirit.org) will continue as my outlet for meditation and spiritual reflection pieces.  Blessings to you all in this wonderful season.      Roger

 

May all who travel today be blessed with discovery and adventure.

Those whose routine activities become opportunities
for new insight and wisdom,

All whose spiritual journeys lead them into places of
revealing and renewal,

Pilgrims who walk sacred trails and pathways
on the good earth,

All who travel by air, land, or sea that they might be
amazed by the beauty surrounding them,

The whole creation as it evolves toward the fulfillment
of The Dream, the audacity of Love
as the cornerstone of life.

May it be so!

Fill my glass with memories, friend,
the sweet wine of yesterday,
golden drops that sparkle
in the sunlight of joy
and, like sacred nectar,
soothe all regrets.
To the top, please, lest I forget
kindnesses bestowed,
laughter shared,
obstacles faced.

So, here’s to the re-membering of
all those special moments that
warm the deepest places in my soul.

Today I will make new memories,
some to cherish, others that will,
upon reflection, tell me about myself
and the world of my encounters.
I will value both with
genuine gratitude.

Yesterday I was
Today I am
Tomorrow I will be

Learning
Waking
Understanding

Inherited certainty
Puzzled inquiry
Evolving mystery

Their story
My story
Our story, Chapter One

An indifferent child
A curious man
A wisdom holder

Carefree
Concerned
Compassionate

God out there
God in here
God

She is relentless.
She never knocks, never calls out
“Hello, anybody home?”
Her arrival is unscheduled and
she delights in tapping me on my shoulder
at times of her convenience, not mine.
Turning under the cool sheet in the
darkness of early morning, I find just
the right sleeping position.  Tap.
Yesterday, while driving on a busy
boulevard to an appointment.
Tap.  In the grocery store line, reaching
down for basket items to stack on
the moving, black conveyor best.  Tap.
Inconsiderate, annoying Pain.

To befriend Pain takes courage.
To fight her, my natural choice, fires her
fury and the cost is high.
I’ve never been pursued with
such dogged determination.  I cannot
run fast enough to avoid the
echo of her laughter and
the wound of her breath.
Not anymore.

Not anymore.

I went on a blind date about a week ago,
my pal Bob said she had the sweetest glow,
that her eyes were blue and her skin was fair
that we would make a beautiful pair–
wait’ll I get my hands on Bob!

(Chorus to be sung after each stanza)

I wish I had known you when you had some teeth
and your eyes weren’t crossed
cause, Honey, I’m at a loss
about what to say,  My words can’t convey
just how I feel right now,

We went to a movie; thank God it was dark.
I tried to make a casual remark
but her snoring was loud and she never heard
a single, solitary casual word.
That girl can saw some logs!

(C)

We stopped at a drive-in after the show
and I found out she eats remarkably slow
but then three burgers, some fries and a coke,
I’m not lyin’; it’s no joke.
She can really put it away!

(C)

I think she wanted me to kiss her goodnight.
I thought to myself: Well, she can’t bite.
But I took her hand and I kissed it instead,
I’m sure my face turned a bright shade of red.
She was holdin’ a bag of cold fries!

(C)

I met up with Bob just the other day.
He saw me comin’ and turned away,
but I caught him at the corner of Main Street and Sky;
I have no idea how he got that black eye.
I don’t think I’ll ever date again!

It’s hard to be nice.

I’ve tried it twice

and both times I learned about life.

I’ve been conned and cheated

lied to and treated

like a country boy comin’ to town.

I gave a fella two ten dollar bills.

His wife was sick and he had to fill

his gas tank – trouble at home.

I saw him later come out of a bar,

he wobbled and stumbled and didn’t get far,

fell in the street and broke his Lone Star.

I doubt now that he owned a car.

Next time I gave to a home for kids,

you’ll never guess what the Director did.

He disappeared with the whole bank account!

He was last seen in Malibu sipping a brew.

He said, when caught, “What did I do?

Can’t a guy take a little time off?”

“I thought the money was for everyone,

so I took a little to have some fun.”

You should have seen his face go pale

when they led him off to the local jail.

His fun had come to an end.

You see, it’s hard to be nice.

I’ve now tried it twice,

but I don’t think I’ll do it again.

I know a man who knows a man who knows three other men
who said that eating two almond croissants is an unforgivable sin.
But I’ve read The Good Book and I asked a priest who knows a thing or two,
so he called his pal at the Vatican and asked what we should do.

The Vatican guy said he would bring it up in his daily evening prayers
and if that didn’t work he’d explain it all to the fella that lives upstairs.
Turns out the man who lives upstairs is a very knowledgeable sort
who promised to search through the ancient archives as a way of doing his part.

So I waited a month for a note or a card, or even a text would do,
but no word came from anyone who had studied this through and through
until last week when a man dressed in black, carrying an ominous book,
knocked on my door and told me that even the Pope had taken a look.

Well, long story short, there is no rule that anyone could find
which addresses the number of almond croissants on which a man can dine.
But now that I have this common consent, which essentially sets me free,
I’ll never again eat two almond croissants; from now on it will always be three.

Roger Pierce   October 18, 2019     PoetryPlace.blog       ShiningSpirit.org