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Walking the line… as dancers in life
Stepping gingerly avoiding strife 
Step by step not looking left or right up or down
Eyes fixed upon living life’s line -- 
Played out by Klotho—
Measured by Lachesis
In a nanosecond a fatal slip, 
Causes an unexpected trip
Atropos’ final snip--
Fragile system malfunction
Resulting in extreme unction.
I as you, play my part
As we on Charon’s craft depart.

Copyright © alex j stokas

More featured poems below...


The frenzied forces of cold, icy streams
detonate explosively on the rocks below.
Their rapid currents wreak havoc 
on logjams caught in crevasses beneath
the mist and rainbowed spray.

We blink in awe to see this
spectacular remonstration 
of pretentious power abruptly
become whirling vortexes
of descending splash downs.

But then, almost as quickly, this despoiler settles
and begins to accumulate in multitudes
of rippling bubbles and froth 
immediately bleeding onto the embankment
promptly losing much of its potential goodness 
swooshed as sucking sounds
into the wild soils of the firmament.

What survives roams free and for awhile 
flows in any direction, with no beginning, no end 
as the river turns into riverlets
Eddying on without any selected steering. 

The rains that used to drip down from the mountain top 
cry to see the diversions of the most glorious river 
dissipate and dry up knowing that the drought 
which has appeared can not adequately supply 
sustenance to a parched soil. 

For that sunbaked soil to be reclaimed
the river must continue to extend its reach
and water the seeds of new growth. 
and use its silt to fertilize the new life
that waits anticipating its turn 
in creation's timetable.

CAK 6-04-2012 Revised 6-18-2013

Copyright © Allan Koven

If we could only accept the truth
The truth about our youth
With every day that passes by
We grow older until we die
Although fighting age is not a crime
It truly is a waste of time
So instead of why and how
Focus on the here and now
For the key is to live your best
Before you die and lay to rest

by Ana Espinola Collins

Copyright © Ana Espinola Collins

Jesus is gone I cannot see him 
The Spirit comes 
Spirit mourns for Him 
The Lord is no longer on earth 

He is in heaven with His Father 
Yet I am here on earth 
The Spirit lives inside me 
The Spirit calls out Abba 

The Spirit reminds me of Jesus 
The Spirit reminds my heart 
My heart mourns for Jesus 
The Spirit in stills mourning for Jesus 

The Spirit helps me understand the Scriptures 
Spirit helps me interpret the times 
When will my Lord return? 
Why is He so long in coming? 

Must trust in the Father's timing 
Always trust, always hope 
The Spirit in stills patience 
Yet wait in silent mourns I do 

Abba Father I wait in silence and hope 
I wait in the Spirit for the Lord to return 
I wait in the Spirit for Jesus to return 
We wait in the heat of the day, and cool of the night 

We wait, we wait 
We wait, wait, and wait 

Yet we are not orphans 
The Lord did not leave us alone 
He sent the Spirit to live within us 
We are not alone

Copyright © Andrena LeBlanc

This murky water you must tread
The many days you have come to dread
Will only last for a time
Hold firm to your faith and hope in God 
Tomorrow brings a new day
The sun will arise the wind will blow
Whichever way it will 
Stand strong in faith and have no fear
He has been to your future my dear

To my PS Family members going through a rough time! God bless you and give you peace!

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick

      Surely there is a sly trickster in the sky tonight
      He’s pulled a magic cape slowly across the moon
      As there could never be scientific explanation
      For the golden beauty seen and gone too soon….

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick

When Summer sets softly across the sky
and bright green leaves wave their good-bye
and a lingering wind blows gentle from the north, it's sigh,
It's cooling, refreshing, echoing sigh.

When the leaves turn gold, magenta and brown
and Autumn lays claim to morning dew's crown
as God turns his seasonal hourglass upside down
Summer stores to memory her days of renown.

Across the horizon lies lavender's refrain
above the meadows, the hills and the plains
an Autumn moon patiently waxes and wanes
and the blades of grass rise high to kiss the rain.

The sweet, glorious Autumn rain.

Copyright © Catie Lindsey

I can't bare my feet with fur
I can't stand the grizzly inside

Big and tall
I got claws

At the world

Feet (not foot) prints,

Through the wood
I bare (not bear) dark fur

Stomping trees, with my
Bear Feet (not bare)

A silent RoaR


Copyright © Chase Trevi

Alone figure stands, 
On sunsets rock.
Summers hot breezes brush,
Against bare skins flesh.
Stalking the ageless path.
Behold histories Indian brave, 
Man, and horse intertwined.
Symbiotic beings joined,
They are one.
The spirit rider gallops, 
Across freedoms trail.
Cautiously, allying arrow unto bow,
Aiming swiftly his shot to kill.
Guardian’s raging bull charges,
Protectors sacrifice, blood mingles,
Amongst dust clouds aftermath, 
His majesty lies slain.
Dark brown eyes close, 
Glimpsing blue sky for the,
Last time.
Heavens prairies, welcome destiny's,
Honorable foe,
The hunter kneels beside the giant's,
Stilled heart,
Giving thanks, singing chants rise,
Ascending heights greener, 
Pastures unto a higher plain.
It echoes in valleys deep,
Touching the lands of his,
 Fore fathers.
Tonight beneath flames tribal fires,
Rhythms beating drums, gives praise,
Many shall celebrate, feasting,
 In memories tribute,


Copyright © cherl dunn

I leave little Breadcrumbs...
Scattered here and there...
Sometimes left as obvious
Sometimes left without a care.

Clues to what I think about
Clues to where I've been
Clues to where I used to live
Clues to former sins.

Clues to all the things I love
Clues to the one's I used to love
Clues to what I dream about
Clues to what I think is High Above.

Clues to my hidden "Inner" self
That no one ever gets to see
Clues to help you understand
Both the Best and Worst of "me."

And so if you follow these little breadcrumbs
They'll lead you straight down my path to see
You'll come to understand what I am all about
You'll begin to understand what makes up "me."

You'll be able to see what's on the inside
Of the outside of what others perceive
You'll really get to know and love
All of the special things that are unique to what is "me."

I am not a simple person
I am not easy to understand
I am deeper than the oceans
I am made of many grains of sand.

I like to fly above the clouds
I like to sail across the seas
I like to feel my inner fire's flames burn bright
Fanned by the fuels of life's strong breeze.

I like to grow things from the earth
I like to plant knowledge from wisdom's seeds
I want to know the wheres and whys and whens
For what drives our Karmic Zen.

I have a love for beautiful things
Both current and from Eras long before
I am not afraid to try anything
I am not afraid to step through any door.

I am a work in progress
I keep growing and changing every day
I am not the kind of person
To always stay the same.

I have a thirst for music
I have a love of all earthly sounds
I have a hunger for a larger life
That supercedes these earthly bounds.

I have a desire to love and be loved
To feel that Passion from within
To someday meet the one who will complete me
Who will love me to my end.

And so if you follow my little Breadcrumbs
You could become a part of my life
You could end up being my lifelong friend
Or we could fall in love and be husband and wife.

(December 26, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,

Copyright © christine a kysely

words are not just words
thoughts expressed
in thought
in speech
in action

some are full of thoughts
beginning before words
just to remain thoughts
never see the light of day, or...

others are voice
continuation of thought
of thoughts not thought
of thoughts thought, and finally...

then there are actions
continuation of voice and thought
from thoughts voiced
from thoughts not voiced, but…

the end of thought speech and action
is the action?

© Charles H Keys, 2011.  All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Chuck Keys

A combination of Prose and Free Verse:

The most thrilling and inspirational piece of music ever to reach my 
ears is, without doubt, Handel's Messiah. I've never known anyone 
who could experience a performance and remain unmoved by this 
stirring composition. There is not a doubt in my mind that Handel 
was inspired by God's Holy Spirit while writing the brilliant oratorio. 
Since its first performance in 1742, Messiah has remained one of the 
most popular works in music. From all accounts, Handel was surely 
driven to push himself to the limit in its completion.

George Frideric Handel (1685-1759) was a German-born organist and 
composer. He was born in Halle and began taking music lessons at the 
age of seven. By the time he was 12, he was assistant organist at the 
Halle cathedral. As a youth, he had a typical Lutheran education, and 
began his work as a composer at the age of 18. Three years later, he 
moved to Italy and worked there for several years, becoming one of 
the most popular composers of Italian opera. He composed 46 Italian 
operas, over 100 Italian solo cantatas, 32 oratorios, and many other 
works. His anthem for the coronation of George II has been used for 
all subsequent coronations.  As an organist, he was considered without 

At the age of 27, he moved to England, lived in London until his death,
and is buried in Westminster Abbey. He was 56 when he abandoned 
opera and dedicated himself to composing oratorios. Messiah was the 
first, and was presented in a theater in Dublin in 1742.  Less than ten 
years later, blindness forced him to give up composing but he remained 
active. He conducted a Holy Week performance of Messiah the day before 
he died. It was told of Handel, that he was so engrossed in his work during 
the composition of Messiah, that he shut himself away in his study and 
would not come out until it was completed.  His housekeeper would bring 
his food on a plate, knock on the door, and set the tray on the floor. When 
she would return to retrieve the dishes, the food was invariably untouched.  
He felt the excitement of true inspiration, and the urgency of recording it. 
As he emerged, gaunt and unkempt, his eyes shone with an inner radiance, 
and he declared that he had “. . .seen the great God himself.” 
The power of this work has inspired millions since its first performance. The 
text is a collection of quotations gathered from the Bible by Handel’s friend
Charles Jennens. It illustrates the foundations of Christianity in a series of 
musical numbers that parallel the prophecy of Christ’s coming, his birth, life, 
death, and resurrection. The main reason for the popularity of Messiah lies 
in its glorious choruses, which display a variety of mood and technique.
 “And the Glory of the Lord” is a happy dance-like chorus in triple time. In 
“Surely He hath Borne our Grief's,” Handel portrayed grief with solemn 
rhythms and thick harmony. The thrilling “Hallelujah Chorus” shows Handel 
as a master of choral effects. 

This poem was inspired by reading about George Frideric Handel's passionate 
experience during the writing of Messiah.  

What's That I Hear?

The bells are ringing,
     listen, listen.
The angels are singing,
     do you hear?
They are telling the story
          once again.

The Son is exalted, exalted.

Handel's Messiah is heard
     in heaven, as always.
What a gift God gave us
     through one man,
          willing to listen.

Listen closely,
     listen with your heart,
          what do you hear?

Reference:  The Columbia Encyclopedia - Second Edition, 1950

Copyright © Cona Adams

Come alive in the spirit you know it’s there and you can really feel it just let it flow. 
There is a message going out to the ones that are lost. Some will say that it is a joke 
and that there is nothing in it. But what they don’t know is if they don’t believe in Jesus 
and get saved they will end up down below where they will burn forever and ever. 
There is more in it then a lot will say this I do know.

Copyright © craig schaber

Every single time I hear that song,
 it always brings tears to my eyes.
I'm not sure if it's the singers voice as he carries on,
 or the lyrics to the words that he cries.

A simple kind of man,
 is something all men should be.
Momma's wish this for their sons future plans
 in a prayer that they may one day see.

As men search this world for a woman,
 they may someday share with their love.
The love they are always searching for
 only seems to come from up above.

Do nothing but follow the love in your heart,
 though at times it may be hard to control.
For it was a gift given you from the very start,
 that will help you to carry that heavy load.

This world that we now live in,
 we may live a little bit to fast.
For problems always seem to happen,
 and sometimes they forever last.

Spending your days searching for wealth,
 does nothing for the goodness of your soul.
With it you can't buy yourself new health,
 in those weary days as your body grows old.

Momma's only want their sons to live a simple life,
 without any worry they will get to out of hand.
Always stay loyal to the woman you love and call your wife,
 and keep your momma happy, living life as a simple man.

DannyBoy:1-20-13 Updated on 11-10-14
My thoughts on the song- Simple Man
By Lynyrd Skynyrd & Or Shinedown

Copyright © Dan Kearley

I've heard the music a smile secretly sings
And the sudden thunder a teardrop brings
No beginning or ending round a golden wedding ring
Together love and time keep on turning

It takes but one breath to keep on living
When your dreams and sorrows become the same thing
Empty eyes open there for the forgiving
Then memories invade, night becomes morning

Like the ring we wear, no beginning or end
We search to see where this journey shall send
Apart we are halfed neither night or day
Where nothing can grow, shall it be that way?

©Donna Jones

Copyright © Donna Jones

Dusk was approaching on the house-lined horizon
Amid the graying skies of threatening rain--
Gloomy truly fit the description
“Is that snow outside?” she asked.
“It looks like snow. Oh! Me! My mind is leaving,” she continued.
Another lady next to me said, pointing to the next table,
“She didn’t bring her baby doll tonight.  She did last night.
She has water in a dish on the floor to feed her baby.”
Food was served; tomato bisque soup tasting as the gray outside
With old ham seasoning; the oyster crackers helped -
Followed by a salad of creamed canned fruit
“Is that snow outside? My mind is bad. Ever hear of David Lipscomb?”
Time for the entrée of egg salad sandwich or chicken
“Bring me a half of a baked potato,” I said.
“My mind is leaving.  Is it snowing?” she said.
The one-half baked potato with butter and sour cream was growing;
I could not eat; I wanted to leave
Tears gathered in my eyes
Why? Sorrow for those with dementia—
Managing in their world;
 	knowing it was not the real world;
 		knowing it was their world, but not knowing for sure
“Dear Lord, I saw my weakness or was it past patients flashing before me?”
The tears would not leave my eyes.
It was difficult to swallow.  I wanted to leave the table.
My spouse said to wait on Eva who was still eating,
Yes, that would be polite
I didn’t want her to see my tears;
Perhaps she understood.
Water lying on rusty roof from years of holding in
Mind intact weeping for the snow outside on an early fall day;
Her body pushing her walker as she left with her mind going as well--
A “snowy” gray sundown
 	-Evelyn Pearl Anderson

Copyright © E. Pearl Anderson

Following Jesus, walking in the footprints of Mercy.
Stopping where He stopped, He always giving love.
Heeding the call of those who needed Him, a step
here, a step there, a servant from above.

Mercy reaching out to man.

Simon by name, helped our Lord who could have
called on the angels, carry the Cross.
Those footsteps we can tread to help another
bare when he suffers loss.

Mercy reaching out to man.

Then Jesus footprints stop-at the Cross where 
His words, "It is finished," mingled with Blood, flowed.
more Mercy, covering our sins with forgiveness, 
delivering us from what we had sowed.

Mercy reaching out to man.

Over the sands of time,
Jesus Christ footprints  have left their mark.
His Blood has preserved them, 
like Noah and family in the Ark

Copyright © Edith D Eutsler


Born in dark with glints of light
the baby owlet flies.
Clots of stars within the skies
and clots in owlets eyes. 

Darkest night and darker days, 
he soars to search for prey.
Seeing not, the hunger grows 
and no light shows the way.

Need for shelter, thirst for drink, 
and wanting his own nest.
Nothing safe in all the world, 
and not a place to rest.

Flying on but weak from trying, 
not knowing how eyes work.
All the thoughts within his head 
are where the shadows lurk.

Then it rained, no shelter gained, 
nor food, nor water yet. 
He strikes upon a closed in porch 
and thinks he's lost the bet.

Falling hard, he hits his head 
and waits for all that's dead.
Someone comes and lifts him up 
and gives him food and bed.

No light but still, deep inside, 
a hope is whispered there.
A touch so soft, and hunger gone, 
no thirst, nor cold despair.

His life enclosed inside a trunk, 
provided for his care.
His days are spent in lots of play, 
in starry starry stare.

Beauty blinded by a chance 
and only feels and hears. 
If only backwards, time could be, 
to undo all his fears. 

Blind beauty he, to everything,
yet his eyes show us far.
That deep in clots and clusters, 
there awaits the nearest star.

Owl blind by birth and circumstance, 
has seen much more than we. 
Eyes renewed for bird and man, 
now that would be the key.

~Edlynn Nau~

Copyright © Edlynn Nau