25 Years

Sitting in Allen’s memorial chapel hearing the names of saints for whom Emory’s shrine of blue and gold were remembered

makes me think, makes me think,

makes me think and feel, think and feel,

makes me think and feel and ask myself

and ask you this

what have I done in these past twenty five years?

what have I done with these past twenty five years?

What have I seen, what have I said?

What have I done, where have I kept silent?

Where have I been, what have I become

What is left undone, Who are my friends,

With whom have I shared life love and faith

What has given hope and joy, Where have I given joy and hope?

And so from what has the past prepared for me

in the next twenty five, the next twenty five

years.. assuming that we have twenty five year

What is waiting? What is unfolding

What needs tending, What needs scolding

What needs to be deepened, what left shallow,

Where to spend my heart, where to find my worth

What to focus my knowing and dreaming

Where will the Spirit blow, where might I follow and go?

But of greater gravity

is what I fill the cavity of this day.

What has the last 25 prepared me to run to in the next 25, all

depends on what I do in the next 25 hours..

and the next 25, and the next, and then

the next…

Hearing the stories of families, careers, and choices,

memories and dreams, and reacquainted  voices..

make me think, that life is too short and too often saved

when it needs to be lived most boldly

whether we have twenty five years

or twenty five minutes

it is in the relationships of life lived and love shared

through failures and success,

learning to live with one’s self and others before and with God

that reveals the treasures of these 25, the next 25 and

25 minutes from now.

Thank you for sharing this moment with me.

Poems…

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Fall Comes Creeping

The nights seem cooler,
The breeze feel crisp,
The sun sets sooner,
The air is fresh,
The foliage reveals color,
The sunsets are bold,
The children play longer,
It’s not summer anymore,
The vacations are over,
The football games reign,
We are another season older,
Fall comes creeping, ahh.

Cellphone Chatter

Chitter, chatter,  fragments don’t matter

He said he would meet me here at ten

She said I can’t believe she took him back again?

Another is blaming all the world

Another is trying to sweet talk his girl

Partial phrases passing by, no one looking eye to eye

Hands cupped to sides of heads,

Some are laughing, some shades of reds.

Walking past my door, a caller sends complaints

the next lingers poor English nuh-uhs and ain’ts.

Why don’t they make phones that edit out junk,

and leave the minutes for important funk,

imaging paying money to flitter useless nonsense and such

I think it is a sign of excess, technological immaturity and much

to much assumption that what I have to say in any give moment

is worth the conveniences of imposing it on my environment.

It seems that people have grown comfortable with an asumption

that communication with others is just a function

of hearing and not fully being able

to chitter, chatter across the table.

Oops, I’ve got to go, my cell phones calling

I can’t not answer it, someone might be bawling

or complaining, or reminding, or think I’d be minding

if they interrupted my chatter with you.

Chances Are

Chances Are

What are the chances that on my day of rest
I would have to work to help a friend
I would be awaken, twice, by the threat of tornados
I would be awaken from a mid-morning nap by
in home repair technician come to repair the bed
on which I was trying to sleep.
What are the chances that my day of rest
would end with a request to prepare dinner
would end with a need to do laundry
would end with a child and a spouse needed
my extra energy and special time
What are the chances that my day of rest
would be so busy, busy, busy.
What are the chances I consumed too much
Talked too loud and too long in smoke filled room
Staying up way too late, to not miss any fun
Just carried my mattress to the basement for the night and dreamed of dreams
and experienced sleep.
Did I enjoy my massage?
Did I make time for needed conversations?
Did I want to return home, or did I want to run away.
Yes, I’ll clean up after dinner
Yes, I’ll wash the clothes
Yes, I’ll play with the child
Yes, I’ll rest when I can
But will you, ever, ever
Would you know ‘it’ if you saw it.
What would you be like if you found -it.
How different would your thoughts and actions be?
How long does it take to get to that point?
That long. Then just go, please go and make that time
Make it happen
Let nothing happen
Just Be.
And Become that ‘Be-ing.’
What are the chances you will rest?
What are the chances that a day of rest would catch you us?
What are the chances
What are the chances
Take them and you will see.
I love you too.
Good Night.

JTB Saturday, April 8, 2006 8:10 PM

Candy Treats

If candy is a treat and its here every day
how can it be so special I say
How can it be a treat or a prize
if readily available in most every size
Put it away and don’t buy any more
Leave some for others at all of the stores
Make it not a reward or a habit
as mystery left by some silly rabbit
valentine’s love need not be a risk of plaque
Santa, great pumpkins or after meals snack.
The sweet candy confections are delicious and pure
but let them come seldom, special for sure.
JTB 041607:0453

I’ve Lost My Mind

Where did I put it?
It was right there when I last had it?
If I could remember where I last had it then it would not be lost. Someone took it. It’s not my fault.
I’m not taking the blame, it was the little one’s fault. no? ok, so I will blame you,
because you are the one closest,
because you are the one who will listen,
because I am feeling helpless too
and I’m certainly not going to admit that
not over loosing my mind.
No, I have looked everywhere
Yes, it is not in my chair,
No, it is not in my room
Yes, I looked on the table
What, What did you say, I’ve lost my hearing too
but I can only focus on one thing at a time
and right now, I am trying to remember
Sure, I can remember what my father used to say
Of Course I can recall what mother would tell me to do
But where is my purse? Where is my book? Where is my coat?
Where is my room? Who turned off all the cold water and left only the hot? No, I didn’t live the water running! Did I?
Yes, I just ate breakfast; no, I couldn’t eat a thing.
What time is it?
Is it time for lunch? I’m not hungry.
I just wanted to know when to be hungry.
Now what was I looking for?
Where am I going?
Where are you going?
Are you going to leave me?
Am I going to be all alone? How long will you be gone?
Where are you going? When will you be back? Will you prepare my lunch? Will you be back for dinner? Why do you have to go? What will I do while you are gone?
What time is it?
Look for what?
Where is it? Where did it go?
I have lost my mind, sometimes.

Orange Leaves in a Yellow Sky

Winter winds keep me on the warm side of the glass
near flame and family with thought reflective
The chilling breezes gently dancing with the orange
lifeless remains of green foliage on sturdy trees
of grey and brown
Clumps and bunches rustle in the air that mark the only
movement of a still and setting day.
Grey clouds hold back golden rays of a winter day
keeping hidden the blue sky and red hues of a hard days work. The brightness fades into a pale yellow hint of what was
as do the brown carpet upon the forest floor lie in tribute
to the brilliance of what was.
Sparse greens speckle the valley here
the hope eternal seems lost or at least out numbered.
And as the final touch goes down the blue grey sky
gives limbs and trunks a blur throughout my view
and night begins unrolling through the wood
as rest waits for those who will seize it at its promise
that in the morning there shall be new strands of light and day. For now the orange leaves dance in the cold night air
more brown, yet holding on by cells of life or habit or chance yet they hold on through the night,
even when the snowflakes weight them down.

20090120:1727

Historic Inauguration

Bitter winds danced snow flakes around the evergreens
Dirty grey clouds inched across the sky
Twenty four degrees of Fahrenheit weather,
Some 266 on the Kelvin scale, 266.33344441 to be more precise Are not each, or all, inaugurations historic, what is historic of today?

Today,
Did I stand watching the day unfold
out of an icy night of waiting and little sleeping to find the Pomp and circumstances of patriotic celebration
the forty fourth American to take the sacred oath
to uphold and defend the constitution
and I stand by as both witness and participant
my own history and the history of another men
and all women and men of my nation, our nation
gathered to ensure the peaceful passing of charge
and the invisible baton of power and responsibility
of the office of president.

And it is done. And a new reign has begun.

Old patriots and patrons playing their part
now transferring and conferring the mantle of
what it now means to be the United States of America
a gifted nation among all the other nations who
have other gifts and how the new strands of the old
tapestry of government and new network of global
peoples and cultures.

The platform is empty and has being taken town
The parade is over
The parties and gala’s prepared
The bush’s leaving Andrews for their private ranch and
The obama’s move into their new government housing.

I am at home, wondering what will become of us all
in the term that awaits, filled with some optimism despite
the surrounding pessimism of loved ones as well as fears
of those who have the most to loose and those who have the
least invested. In faith and hope yet unrevealed, we wait and anticipate, hearing a call for all to participate.

Historic that I did not join democrats a Colony Square
Historic that I again have voted for third time in a row for the looser. Historic that we have a African-American president
Historic as our new president names and affirms the diversity of faith, and even lack of faith, rather than assuming a historic silent assumption that the separation of government from religion is not only an issue of church and state, but also, mosque and state, temple and state, reading room and state, living room and state.
Historic that we have so many who judge the progress of our nation’s race relations by the marker that a man of color holds the office. Will they/we feel the same joy when a Hispanic-American or
Asian-American president leads our nation. Will the African-American community embrace diversity when it is not their shade, that is a historic day when character will be searched for all.
Historic that over two million gathered near the mall of monuments to be in the spot, and I was not there, having to be present six hundred and two miles away.

And what is for lunch?
The soup from Christmas’ turkey with the hard dry bread from New Years night And for dinner some left overs from dinners past.
How much is in the bank? three something in one seven and change in the other and ten days until pay day that is spent when it arrives.

My wife’s vocation is caring for her parents who health is far from what it was My daughter juggles the paths of what is great and what is intimate as she prepares for
future almer mata and
My son journeys the waters of high school football, baseball, friends, technology texting, and
what it means to be a young man in several worlds at one time, and My daughter who loves to jump, dance, dream and begins to read in books and into the
world around her expecting mommy and sissy and family to always be with her.

It is a historic day, not only to have a first black president It is historic today, because it is truly a day of hope and dreams. How I, how we, hope our dreams come true.
It is now 25 degrees and hours have past and we believe that new days and nights of warm shall prevail and await us.
God bless us, everyone.

Morning Blows

I have some buggers in my nose;

they must have been forming as I slept, I suppose
now they are lodged,

entrenched with neolithic purpose
I blow my brains through my ears,

to see if my breathing clears

freed at last with a mighty blast;

my schnoz is free from clogs and nasal casts

Yes, I might rather rest some more,

but then my nose would continue to snore.
Thank goodness, morning blows

clear the orafaces of breath and life.

Let it blow, Let it blow, let it blow.

JTB(C)013008:2157