Thursday, April 5, 2018

The Stone

I follow a blog on Word Press entitled “Walking with a Smacked Pentax.” It’s a fascinating blog written by James Elkington. He walks about the lands of Scotland, Northern England, and Wales taking photographs and telling stories of the areas he is photographing. It’s a great blog and I think I love it most because it shows me the land of my ancestors, land that I’ve never set foot on, but land where I know my DNA resides.
The other day he posted some photographs from the Scottish Highlands and I was particularly struck by one image, an image of the Praying Hands Stone. As I looked at it I had a poem come to me and I quickly wrote it down. I asked James if I could share his image with my poem and he very graciously agreed to. So today I share the photography of James Elkington along with the poem I wrote about it. Hope you enjoy!
Praying Mary's Hands Stone copy (1)
The Stone
I wonder if in all of our scientific prowess 
We have lost the things that matter most
Maybe it’s our materialism, our naturalism
They’ve led us to the answers
But the answers are not alive
They are dead and cold numbers
Mere equations and complicated formulae 
That leave our brains full
Our hearts completely empty 
A desert where no love or imagination 
Brings colors back into the scenery
I think the time has come 
For a both, and an and
A time where human beings
Become human again 
Using our discoveries for the good of us all
Leaving room for our lives full of colors
I simply know if I had my druthers 
I would let love and wisdom live side by side

James’ blog can be found at Go check it out 🙂

Sunday, March 4, 2018

Universe (Microcosm)

By California standards it has been cold and rainy for the last several days. So today, when the sun came bursting out and the mountains decided to show off their new snow clothes, I decided to get outside and make some Vitamin D. I sat down and looked at the ground to see what you see in the photo. The rest is history....

Universe (Microcosm)

There is an entire world here
A forest of vast proportions
Unlimited resource
And beauty
Just the right light
Just the right moisture
Just the right soil
Just the right place
Or everything is all erased
Into atom and nuclear nothingness
Yet there had to be a spore
There had to be a word released
Spoken in the moistened darkness
Life still only comes from life
And though there is worry, disease, and strife
The fact those three words are sad to me
Means there must be something good
And gold
Or otherwise it all would make none the difference
So here I sit above this universe of green
Wondering just what everything means

While gazing at the answer

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

The Burning (One)

I live here in this land
I was just moving along 
In the same routine as always
Moving, meandering aimlessly along
The sky was darkening
But it was getting brighter all the same
I thought I heard it whisper my name
But then I thought I must have been in the narrow hallways
For far, far too long
Again, again, this time in song
I heard sound call, and call again
A voice of reds and blues and yellows and brights
A view of sky and sheer delights
Was on a bright display
I had a choice to make this day

Keep moving

Or Turn Aside

I wanted to hide from the decision
Not wanting to face any dark derision
But at the same time knowing deep within
There was something more here than fanciful whim

So I turned to see, and I saw

A tree

On Fire

Somewhere, somehow my heart’s Desire
Was burning right here in this place
No time, no logic, no scene, no space
Could match with what I knew here

I was looking at the One

So I stayed here for a while
I heard nothing else
Nothing else but Beauty
Who kept playing the changing lyrics of the song
The day was short, the tones were long
And in the silence I could here the whisper of the call

This invitation to give my all
To simply gaze upon the Beauty
The One who is above all time
The One who is the end of all signs
And the beginning of all the differences
I shed my shame, I then gave all deference
To this One in front of me

I see the city where I wasn’t born
The place where everything seems foreign and strange
I see the palms off in the distance
Calling me to different shores, to rearrange
This insane desire to chase what isn’t seen 
And replace it with what is sure

But I have been down that road before
And it has nothing in its ending
Nothing in its middle, nothing in its beginning
Because all of it falls into the wastelands
The wastelands known as “Meaningless”
I long more for the light’s caress
So therefore I will simply stay here

I listen to the singing
In it I don’t hear the church bells ringing
But rather I hear the dance of happiness
From the ones who live their lives in contentment
From the ones who have found the keys
The keys to all true freedoms

I return my gaze, my attention to the tree
I guess this is where I always will be
I guess this is where I will stand
So I gaze once again on these foreign lands
I thank Wisdom that I have stopped running 
To get here

Wednesday, February 14, 2018



Your love brings music to my soul
  Passion to my doldrums 
  Peace to my chaos
  Serenity to my wind tossed seas
  So in gratefulness to my knees 
  I bow
  And ask you to marry me 
   all over again
   Again and again
   And again and again 
   To call you my wife, my lover, my friend
   Is the most beautiful sound that I know
Within these tunes and tones our love does grow 
Into the hum of the mighty mountains
What anyone could ever hope or wish for

That is what this gift means to me
So that is why I give it to you
To hear the sounds of our love travel across the lands
Across the seas
Into our gardens
Amongst our trees

I am forever home with you

Friday, February 9, 2018



I have stayed in my place
Rooted into the deep cool earth
Surrounded by design and purpose
Yet my branches were barren and cold
I felt I might be getting too old
And shivered at the thought of the end

But then the daylight grew longer
The chill of the night began to waver

I felt a stirring amongst the stillness of the snows
Despite the dark and the cold, my hope still grows

Then one morning it simply happened
Greenery, life began to appear
Rushing over my former barrenness like delicate waterfalls
An abundance
An overflowing of beauty and elegance and grace

I once again can lift my face
To see the wonders of the coming sun

I have emerged

And won.


Wednesday, February 7, 2018



I don’t like it when creativity will not come
I sit here staring at a screen
Having thousands of things to say
That all seem to mean nothing at all
I think too much
I wonder what difference will it all make
Unfortunately it seems the answer is always the same


But can that be true?
Can a pebble be thrown into the sea
And not a ripple be made?
Can a butterfly flap it’s wings
And it not be felt far, far away?
Or is that even what I am here for anyway
To make some sort of major upheaval
Maybe I am a daffodil
I come forth quietly on the waves of warm sun
I spring forth for a time
I show forth beauty
I cause someone I don’t even know to smile

I’ve fulfilled my worthwhile

Then I go back into the earth to replenish the next

I have touched

I am a part

Of Eternity


Sunday, January 28, 2018


There are days I want to quit my poetry
Then I have to ask the question “why?”
It seems no one really reads it much
No one really cares
It seems if there’s no wild video attached
Nothing that catches stares
Then it is to be avoided, discarded

We can’t be wasting time with things that don’t waste our time

I must ask the question “Why?” again
But this time for why I write to begin


See, I get to play with words
I get to express my joys
Wrestle with concerns
I guess it really doesn’t matter if it’s read or not
Though it would be nice to see who’s in the same lot 

As I 

I sit here and release a sigh
That seems to come from a deeper place
I wonder if my soul, my face
Will ever find what it’s meant to be looking for
A random line, a menial chore
All these things seem to break into the existence
A copied lung, a bleak resistance
I go dwelling in worlds I know nothing about
Places where quiet, not screams or shouts
Tend to draw the most attention

Do you ever sense the power of tension?

I surely do. Every day.
It seems to be the life, the way
Of living life like there is no tomorrow