Sweet Voice of Christmas (Triple Haiku)

Sweet voice around me
Better than a Christmas tree
Leave me here to be

God is on his throne
And this happiness is known
As this heart has grown

Future is unknown
But this father does not groan
He is with his own

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No Gift to Give His Children Except . . .

He has no gift to give his children this Christmas
Except love, hugs and kisses . . . and a heart-poem
. . .
If I could give you a large mansion with room for expansion, I would;
If I could give you gold, as cold as the metal might be, I surely would;
If I could give you the stars so far away, I would give them one by one;
If I could give you fine clothing and a nice bottle of wine, I would do so;
If I could give you the moon, so soon would I fetch it down, all for you;
If I could give you cars to travel afar and a reservoir of jewels, I would;
Yes, if I could give you both all of this and more from some Santa store
Please know that I would, and allow this thought grow in your hearts:
I would give you material goods made of silver, metal, jewels ‘n wood,
But I can give you only my love and pray you do not shove this aside,
As well as my affection with no rejection nor reduction in my gratitude
For the two of you . . .
You both are my own gift as you lift my spirit to an heavenly altitude!
So with this I say, ‘merry Christmas’ with a kiss you surely won’t miss

Chasing Away the Blessing?

I am so thankful for your answered prayer,
Especially after enduring so much so unfair!
I am so grateful that hateful attitudes
Have been washed away by affection,
And that you have reached a new altitude
In your once-strained, stained relationship;
What a surprise blessing that blesses me!
To see you so very happy and full of joy and
To know you’re not being played like a toy
Thrills and sends chills up ‘n down my spine!
What seemed so impossible became possible,
And night turned to sunny bright day for you,
And with no sleight of hand or nasty blight;
And I’m glad I’ve finally seen you not so sad,
Caught in a bad dilemma with ones you love;
Truly this was blessed blessings from above!
Ah! But time move on and the clock chimes;
All good cheer must eventually hear the call
To say ‘fare-thee-well’ and then sail away
Till another day for more fun and play . . .
My dear, you have to know when to let go;
You cannot cleave; you must let them leave!
Yes, you really can mess up
What was meant to bless . . .
Do not cling and bring an even worse curse
Than you before endured in fear with tears;
Know when to let go and say ‘goodbye’
Or you will soon sigh again in loneliness;
Oh, yes, I’m happy for you but worried, too!
If you tighten your grip,
You’ll frighten them away!
Be thankful, but with open heart and hands

Throws and Blows of Dementia

O strength that takes a twisted turn
Burn the mind and bind all sensibility
Vaulted vanity is replaced by insanity
As the adult becomes the wild child
~ No longer meek and mild ~
She seeks the past as present
As if it’ll last ‘n the future is far gone
Fond memories fade as if bade to go
So low have they sunk into oblivion
Dying while trying to live in a fog
And all life has become a thick bog
. . .
And this is one person being caught
In the throws and blows of dementia

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Note: Dedicate to all who suffer with this horrid affliction as well as to their dear families and loved ones. May the the Great Physician lead us to a cure soon!

My Kitty Cat: Creature Companion

Never particularly the cat lover
This kitty-cat hovered around
And was bound to win my heart
And so she became part
Of our beloved family. . .
So it has been for over 12 years
And now the tears come to eyes
As I cry when she cries out
Not knowing where she is;
You understand, she forgets now
And gets frightened when alone,
And she has to be shone her dish
With the wish that she will eat
Rather than simply seat herself;
Kitty doesn’t see as well either
And is easily scared
By rapid movement;
Nor does she move as fast,
And is past quickly jumping;
My dear kitty-cat has grown old,
And I don’t have to be told . . . no;
No, it won’t be very long, I know,
And when that day comes
I will openly show sorrow
For my sister-companion,
And I will have lost part of my heart

Emerald Eyes of Love and Justice

What do your sharp emerald eyes see
Among all of this heartbreaking debris?
An end of false love but a new beginning
Just round the next bend with singing?
What do your sharp emerald eyes speak
As they peek into the mystical future?
Will there be nurture for the forsaken?
Will she awaken to a new, brighter life
No longer rife with pain
And lighter joy to gain?
What do your emerald eyes now promise?
Will there be healing in kneeling prayer?
So much distorting, so much comforting
Is needed . . . and surely you have heeded
Her cries rising to the skies, without lies?
Protect her now from the obscene snake
For the sake of her own innocent purity!
What do your sharp emerald eyes see?
An obscene man who breathes iniquity?
And shall you give this man any reprieve
Or force him to tuck his tail and leave?

Capitulation to Manipulation

Capitulation to manipulation is only bondage
In which you pay homage to fear as hostage;
Love is not exploitation, vexation and soul starvation;
Love is exaltation, celebration and heart liberation!
Submission to nefarious calculation and scheming
Is dreaming of happiness in an inescapable dungeon
Of lies that fly straight from the pits of dark Abaddon!
Being manipulated is really the same as being hated:
You are being twisted and torn, turned and burned
With no real compassion or affection ever returned,
While the puppet-master grins, writing your life
With his very own pen . . . again and again and again!
Know truth; stand on truth; cling to truth; speak truth
And refuse to bow again to the clever, levering cow!

Looking to the Streets

Now I really am in trouble,
Tempest tossed and lost,
And I can nearly feel the frost
Of an uncertain future on the streets:
Stranger-vagabond to everyone I meet,
Feet frozen, hands numb, mouth dumb,
Deserted by family and friends,
Ravenous wolves round every bend . . .
And how does it feel to be destitute?
Shall I turn this aging body into a prostitute?
But, O God, have I ever turned away
From someone in need?
Failed to feed the hungry?
Have I been too comfortable in my hole?
Have I been a miser without a soul?
Ah! But thousands ask the same questions,
Do they not? And wonder how it is they got
Where they got and why? And they try
To figure some way out and off vacant lots,
And they scheme and plot because that’s
What they have left, so bereft are they
Of family and friends who care,
And whoever said life is fair?
Then why should I be the privileged one?
Why should I not walk the streets
To the beats of every other homeless heart?
Oh, but I am frightened, my chest tightened;
Lord, can I make it? Can I take it?
Will you walk with me the miles?
Will I still feel the warmth of your smiles?
. . .
One pleading hand reaching for the sky
One cracked voice finally saying ‘goodbye’
. . .
And, after all, will I have a home on high?

Homeless in the Heart

Shattered dreams are left
Broken pieces on the floor
And an open door leading . . .

Where? Surely somewhere
Certainly more than nowhere
Homeless in the heart . . .

Too Persistent, Damn Insistent!

You demand to understand why
They pushed you away that day,
But can you bear to tear yourself
Away from self-delusion
To hear the conclusion?
You were overly persistent
And too damnably insistent!
It was your way or the highway,
You tried to take over,
Then you lied to them!
And you insisted you were right
With all of your might,
And it was ever so trite
But also quite the fright
That you’d made such intrusion;
And you stopped up your ears
And shed many tears of fears
That you’d never again see them,
But they had to be free from you!
No, no; you were blind to all this,
Your mind all in a tangled bind . . .
But now? Can you see in hindsight?
Do you have a better view
Of what was then so true?
Ah! But they have not completely
Cut you off, forever shut you out;
They’ve only made some space,
Put you in your place
And set a new pace . . .
Can you, will you accept this?
Can you be part ‘n not the whole?
Play the more secondary role?
This all may come as quite a blow,
But, really, you had to know, right?
So don’t go digging your low grave;
Up now ‘n show your better self!
Repair the heart bridge with care
Repair . . . with tender loving care