Ode to Love (Recast)

Love can be so cruel, so unkind, and oh-so blind;
Enough to make the fool drool, but the wise one
Sees the forest beyond the trees and honey bees;
Love can be like only bare and stone-cold bones,
Or it can be as one small flower growing in power;
And love can be like fine wine or be high and dry;
Love is free and wild, and won’t be tame and mild;
Love is a child, ever growing into showing wisdom,
Free yet to be whatever the world around shall see;
Never contained, hardly ever restrained, and not
To be disdained, for love is love as it is, and love
Comes from Love from Above…
Yes, it can bring pleasure like an exquisite treasure
Or it can bring pain with no gain and seem insane;
Ah! is it worth the while? But what is life without
Love except bland with no real demand? This love
In all its complexity sells itself to the soul and
Then compels, propels to great heights with might!
Love is and shall be … for you, everyone, and me…
For love defines our life as it is and ever shall be …

Note: Previously published in April 2016


Saga of Sara and Emma Jane

In courtroom large, the high charge stuck:
Sara’s man could not buck the stolen horse,
So chained and off to prison, the course
Of her life changed, radically rearranged;
Could she manage alone, fields newly sown?

Meanwhile, Emma Jane wept where cold body slept
In silent keep of death, and no one else would weep;
So what else could she do but sell out and bail out?
One man was tied as the other died, and both cried,
But Sara kept her claim and so Emma Jane came.

CosgirlsAnd the two bright, strong women would fight
To keep their only plot of land — not a lot —
Sara and Emma Jane plowed and prayed for rain
Again and again to adorn their field with corn;
Work, no play — the pay was strong bond of love.

Out in the wild, wild West they would survive,
Hope kept alive by burning backs, aching arms,
And no time for charm till dinner bell chime;
Sara and Emma Jane would climb up into bed
And lay their heads down with very little said.

Ah, they had their land and crops, home and slop
For hogs and wood to chop in a virtual sweatshop
With no whistle-stop — work begun had to be done
Under the sun — and they rarely made it into town;
But these two had their space on their own place.

Sara and Emma Jane, given to one another, could
Never be won by man passing by, try as he might;
Light of love bound to survival in ever revival
Of one spirit in two bodies married these two
In true love forged above and sealed on earth.

Sara and Emma Jane stood their ground, so profound,
Against so many hounds of hell striking warning bell;
They would not sell, no, not Sara’s land to band
Of thieving men bent on sin to win what belonged
To two women so strong, who’d chosen the long road.

And Beauty stood tall, formidable, nothing biddable
As Sara and Emma Jane tamed the wild, wild West. . .


No More Throne; Just Your Bone

Somebody stole your throne like a dirty little bone,
And they trashed your crown, then fled out of town;
And now you know you tried but you lied, then cried
Because you can’t confide now; nobody’s on your side;
So just how wide is redemption’s door? Can you slide
On through, crawling across the floor with no more
Pride left; you’re bereft of hope; not even the Pope
Can save you, and you can’t misbehave as you pave
Your way back to heaven for lack of good luck packed
In your haversack… Oh! You’re the big Mack attack
Are you? But your shoe’s too big and your shit stinks,
Makes the eyes blink; and you’re after another twink
But I just wink as you sink lower for another blower,
But you can’t get none; your nightmare’s just begun,
Son of a bitch! Which way now? Now that there’s just
Your dirtied up bone, ’cause someone’s got your throne!


Sélená and Secrets of Life: Revelation, Part III

StonePorchBlSélená led me along the lake bed ~ and really it was more lake than pond ~ which was really rather strange to walk the underwater grange, to somehow have breath here without death. Our heads emerged, though, and instinctively I surged forward toward the shore as if I’d live no more for long in watery abode, where such men do not belong. She chuckled, grabbed and buckled me over, and what was I to do but truckle; she was much stronger. “You just walked comfortably under water, and could swim comparably to any fish! And now you wish for land and demand solid ground upon which to pound your feet? You’re nearly complete in fear, my dear!”

Nevertheless, we reached the shore and then did I have something more to see: The orphanage had grown, gardens sown, and many hovels made of stone. “Now this is practically a village,” I exclaimed. “Yes, enough to pillage and plunder, Kelebek; and is it any wonder? Over the years, fears and tears have driven dozens, who have striven to be born again, now torn from the world left behind. Bereft of almost any goods, save hope, they’ve clung to the sturdy rope of Caillína. And you see now she has raised great steeple for the people.” Indeed, and it was equal to that of any cathedral, though unadorned; still it glistened brightly in the morn, and somehow seemed to warn of great power towering ore the villa.

WarriorWBl2True, too, many had come to this place of grace — how many, I cannot say, but they appeared to be well-stayed — and there was an unpretentious, humble beauty with nothing contentious. Peace and serenity seemed to flow with ease in the ever-gentle breeze, enough to please the most disquieted soul … my soul. “This is like an effervescent bowl of divine wine, a veritable celestial shrine, yet terrestrial nonetheless!” At that moment of my potent enthusiasm, Caillína strode down toward the shore of the bitty town, and I thought I’d drown in admiration for the woman she’d become. Sélená laughed. “Aye, she is quite handsome, is she not? But she can be bought for no price, believe me, even if thrice offered the whole world.”

“Good, then she is, in fact, great and will take no bait!” Proudly I loudly intoned. “And look there; I dare say that is Fáelána and Suíbhnæ up on high hillock!” Sélená nodded. “And still fine, supple and strong; sturdy spine and backbone, with stone determination, yet kind and gentle as they mind their folk. Here it is known Fáelána is fireanna and Caillína, as well, but tell me, how would they fair in your society’s lair? I do dare say zealots would swear at their oddity and lay religious snares. Aye, there are those even in this time and clime who would sever their testicles for them ever to be women only and think themselves quit clever!”

Some confusion with profusion of thoughts, but Sélená was right, of course, but in my sight I saw only glorious majesty … in all three. “Yes, of course, for each of the three, like one majestic tree,” Sélená answered my unspoken words she nevertheless heard. “Fáelána, Suíbhnæ, and Caillína are called by the people ‘onórach,’ more venerable than yon steeple; however, Fáelána and Caillína are considered ‘sanctaidd,’ holy, forever blessed and possessed of the Spirit of Dyēus.” She paused as I thought and fought to comprehend the latitude of the people’s gratitude and their most reverent attitude. “The oppressed and repressed, cheated and mistreated, beaten and half-eaten are often more caring and forbearing. Many times they also see and understand what most people misunderstand.”

CathedralDoorOpenBlWith this my soul could somewhat relate; I’d never been the victim of hate, yet cut off and shut out by family and friends for no more than politics and religion, ideology and questioning my competence. Yes, my heart knew hurt: Sisters and brother who never bothered with any of my dreams or visionary schemes; sinister ministers, prisoners to their own doctrinal poison, who’d heisted the Christ and priced salvation; bosses full of dross who’d never tossed me the chance to advance; schools of impersonal, mechanistic learning tools… “Of course, you’re now feeling some remorse over the course of your life thus far, but remember I’ve told you, ‘be bold! and keep hold of your senses.’ Your story is still being written, even now; you’ve been bitten by destiny, my love!”