My hands and feet are numb
for I am cold and I have no
home to give me warmth.
A home and warmth are two
things I search for that is why
people call me a bum.
I have not eaten but I have
prayed and my prayers have
not yet been answer for I have
not eaten in days.
So I'll just lay in my place of
sleep and pray once more as I
search for warmth, for I have
found my home, The streets.
Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus
Seated at a table by the stirring water,
My eyes absorb the shore of Asia.
Minerets and aged worn stone
Stand haphazardly along the banks.
Istanbul is a lady with secrets
She'll lure you with her unrevealed virgin beauty,
Then seduce you with her ancient lovers.
Grilled sardines filled my charger
Fish pulled from the strait just minutes before,
Lay garnished with parsley and mint .
Red pickled turnips and warm flat bread
Are the implements that help feed me
And scoop up the humus,
Turkish nourishment for my soul.
The empty plates are cleared by a handsome waiter
With dubious intentions I feared,
But I was flattered none the less.
A bowl of yogurt was placed before me,
And my admirer arrived with a comb of honey.
He held it high above the creamy cloud and let the heavy ochre
languidly pour atop the milky whiteness of delight.
After his seduction,he left me alone to my pleasure
As I lapped at the sweet and sour heavenly temptation,
that parted my lips and elevated my being.
As I recovered from my rapture, two eyes caught mine.
The heathen that destroyed my diet approached the table uninvited.
He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me.
In his hands, a cup.
He offered to tell me my future.
White, small, as fragile as an eggshell with the top lopped off.
Within was a dark tea with floating leaves.
In a chivalrous attempt at English conversation,
He handed me the libation and the offer to read the remains.
I, alone in a man's world, unmarried, and of a certain age,
Did not need encouragement and I accepted his offer.
I drained the tea in one gulp and returned it to his hands.
He placed the cup in one palm , then turned it upside down,
Allowing the remaining fluid to drip out around the cup and onto the table.
Once the cup was upright again he studied the leaves, then he spoke.
His voice was soft, at times , unintelligible
His reading was honest, and truthful, and painful.
His prophecy, amusing, and entertaining
His vision and it's accuracy were astounding.
Fifteen years later, the leaves delivered on their promise.
Long fluid lines inside the cup foretold of a marriage,
To a man who would cross a sea to find me.
Two shorter drippings were the children that now delight me.
The tea ring that he was able to complete around the cup ,
Was the warmth of a love that would soon envelop me.
Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam
Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind
I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be
For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home
So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness
The sands on the beach
Are like the colour of her hair
As i sit by the ocean
All i can do is stare
The blue of the ocean water
Can never match her eyes
Despite our natures wishes
All she can do is try
The blue skies above her
Carpet her ceiling surround
Her posture of delight
In plentiful abound
Her body is slight and tanned
A joyous site to see
This blond beach lady in the sun
Gracing the land of the free
Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.
Let's bring into this world peace
So all these wars and violence can cease
Let's stop all this hatred
And give the poor and homeless a piece of bread
Let's start by changing us all and right from inside
And letting God be your guide
There's so much we need to change
Even if it looks and sounds strange
We can all start sometime and somewhere
By showing in everything that we do, that we care
Let's be careful in the manner that we speak
Let's be strong and not weak
Let's show this world, that we still stand strong and tall
Let's unite together with courage and tear down every single wall
Let's bring into this world of ours much more love and peace
So a lot of this vicious circle of strife and pain can one day cease
Let's start today and let's do it right from the place in which we live
Let's always be respectful of our neighbors and our fellow man
Let's give the best of ourselves everyday and all the time that we can.
Let's stop this madness and get rid of all these illegal drugs today
They can destroy everything that you have and will kill you too
Make a vow to bring God into your life every single day
And make Him part of everything that you do.
Believe that your life will be more productive and blessed
When you put Him first in every thing
That you set your mind to do when you bring
Him closer and right inside your heart
And from you He shall never depart
So start by doing this and much more
Let's answer the call and open the door
Let's be watchful of everything that we do and say
And let's be thankful and pray to God everyday!
Dorian Petersen Potter
Chilly late October;
early morning fog banks
the roadside, cloaks
a trickling bayou...
in the thickets of dense trees,
the wispy tufts
goldenrod, Queen Anne's lace,
dried-out thistle stalks...
A school bus, solitary,
yellow, slowly passes
on skinny black asphalt
where wet spots reflect
the newly risen sun.
Only rustles of high,
green cane fields and
intermittent bird songs
interrupt pervasive quiet...
Timelessness, and solace --
calming, soothing --
a Louisiana bayou:
I am the spirit of satin stardust
and the antiquities of golden memories alive
I call to you from the rising warmth of the sun
and greet you in the misty morning light
I am the steady and rolling drum beat
echoing from the jagged heights above
I am the mysterious curves of the raging waters'
and the freedom birds of love
I rise above the white summer clouds
in lilting songs of grace
and roam with the western tail-winds
to take you home again
I am a Spirit of our gracious Lord God Almighty
of love hope and faith
I have come to tell
Dedicated To P.D.
< Cascading lakes and streams
The loon stands out it seems
Minnesota's state bird
I know it must sound absurd
Adopted in nineteen sixty one
Wails and yodels heard under the sun
Black and white bearing red eyes
Wingspans five feet can make one cry
Body lengths up to three feet
Yet clumsy on lands and moss peat
They are high speed flyers
And great underwater divers
They can dive up to ninety feet
In pursuit of fish they want to eat
They are even on our license plates
An critical habitat drawn on metal slates
Twelve thousand of these unique birds
God that has to be a lot of turds
But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues
Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet
At night I lay my soul to sleep,
Closing my eyes there is no peep,
This soft bed is just so mellow,
My head rests on this fresh pillow.
Forgetting the stress of the day
I am in bed without delay.
Soul at ease— the mind must follow,
My head rests on this fresh pillow.
Satin sheets over my shoulder,
Keep me warm—not getting colder.
Fantasy dreams I now billow,
My head rests on this fresh pillow.
At night I lay my soul to sleep,
My head rests on this fresh pillow.
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.
The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.
Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.
So much I wanted to say. So much I wanted to shout.
It was like being trapped behind bars without a way
to get out.
My mind going wild with all these questions of why.
The only way to escape was to fall asleep or to cry.
What did I do so bad that made me have to pay?
My friends, my dreams, and my life was swepped away.
I know I can do it! I try and I try.
Nothing seems to get better. I sometimes wish
I would Die.
Starved for attention. I wanna talk to the world.
I just miss being loved. Miss the warmth of a girl.
Snickers and stairs is what my life has become.
I'm treated like I'm a kid, like I'm sick, or I'm dumb.
One day to the next. Life becomes work just to be alive.
I thank god for my blessings. I thank god I survived.
I finally see some improvement. More hope tickles
It was worth all the time, all the tears, all the pain.
I awake with a smile and new hope to move on.
I did it! I did it! All those hard times are gone!
To love your country,
you must commit yourself indefinetly;
there are no doubts, or fears
when it comes to defend it fervently..
do it for the sake of your family,
or your countrymen who wish for peace!
They will send you to distant lands,
away from your loved ones...
to uphold freedom and its sanctity,
and you'll shine with bravery!
Anytime peace is threatened,
you'll retaliate and engage in combat,
true soldiers always fight with self-confidence,
never retreat in any circumstance!
There'll be days of fright , of darkness and despair,
and nights to shed tears on cold pillows;
no tender eyes to glance into or arms to embrace,
but surrendering distorts your honor!
As the mission comes to its end suddenly,
and you are one of the surviivors to declare victory,
although you'll also grieve for the fallen ones:
you'll wave your flag to the calmest skies!
To love your country,
you must avail yourself of dignity
and protect its borders vigilantly;
be aware of its tremendous cost:
risk your own life,or allow
the enemy to toast!
I shall live and die
By my own accord
Only my God may judge me
To him I've proved my worth
I am still here fighting
It matters not what for
On my ship of righteousness
Headed for waters unexplored
The clear night sky will darken
And the clouds seem ominous
I take heed to the sure signs
From them I won't digress
They are in the way of my dreams
And hopes that fill my sails
Like the wind from my heaven
Keeps my skin tough as nails
Evil comes to tempt me
I am not immune
Sometimes I play the hero
Other times I'm just a fool
Either way the choice is mine
I make it with my free will
For that's the gift he gave me
And for what I fight for still
The government is coming
To bring a chaos they call order
The line has been drawn
Between two sides there is a border
I feel myself being torn
To choose a fate in stone
Let this be a lesson
Why I wander on my own
Minds can be controlled
I see it every day
The weak wills fall like dominos
That lie littering my way
An obstacle before me
I iron will it to the end
And when the devil comes
to dance with me
I have already started to transcend
into everything around
I am the universal man
my true form I shall disguise
I am hiding it from this great Satan
they say will come for my demise
I know he will find me
maybe he already has
in a long gone nightmare
that my soul he stole at last
if I remember correctly
I can't say I recall
ever escaping his grip
or did it ever touch me
Vacation fun time
God creates for all to see
I love sky I love trees
and sometimes I can feel the breeze.
I feel like I can fly
With the wind pushing my hair back so lightly the trees are waving
My hair is swaying so is yours as we glide together
as we watch the sunset go bye
and once again I can feel the breeze
the mountains are high
so so high
they are so high
see them see them
to protect me as I walk across the lake
I love the lake
it is so big big big big
I love big
do you like big?
I like the mountains
they are so straight like a statue do you think?
the mountains are high in the sky
I love to just watch the sunset go bye
so quiet and slow like the clouds I soar through the sky
I love soaring through the sky
I sit and pause, looking at the sky blue ceiling above me. White vapour cotton wool clouds
gently float like water lilies on an upside down pond. My humble seat, an igneous rock
from the Devonian period. A glaciation past has moulded this comfort to rest this weary
climber. I am in fortunate delight as this skyscraper of old can turn nasty with nature.
These marvels can unite and lure unsuspected hikers, and draw them into a weather world
they have never known. The gulley's and faces of this quite wonderful Munro hide
challenges and dangers for all who dare climb. Many have been lost as they become
disorientated, as natures weather closes in.
The ascent route to the summit on a day like today is quite wonderful. The beauty of the
glens, with their sporadic mix of andesite and basaltic lava mountains, rival many a range
on our fine planet. Many colours explode on the surrounding canvas. Greens and beige's,
greys mingling with red granite masses. Screes are in evidence, a sign of the range ageing
as natures seasons take their toll. Plant life carpets the slopes, where grasses of sorts
mingle with the purple and white heather. Ferns from a prehistoric age fan out catching
the breeze, like Sea´ ferns´ in the ocean.
As i climbed, at various intervals i would close my eyes and listen to the calls of the
wild. The sporadic bleating of sheep, as if echoing through the glens. Crows and their
hooded cousins fly sorties looking for carrion of such. Suddenly they scatter, as royalty
makes a welcomed appearance. As majestic as the King of the mountains can be, a Golden
Eagle glides on the thermals. His subjects looking on from a distance, for fear of
angering him. Rabbits, lizards and even sheep and lambs, bow down in whatever chambers of
safety allows them. As graceful as he arrived, he leaves. Slowly but slowly, the lookouts
of the species declare their haven a safe zone.
This climb has certainly given me a thirst, as the thinned mountain air leaves me tired.
Nearby a small stream offers a weary climber a much needed tonic. This pure fresh
translucent chemical substance quenches my crave, with a gentle splash over my sun beaten
face, i feel refreshed to a point.
Along a forest path that few can see,
Just as the sun is setting in the West,
With owls and ancient oaks for company,
I wander in my solitary quest.
In shadowed dusk the world is at her best --
When lacy lichen clings to cooling stone --
The feathered robin turns toward her nest,
And in the stillness I am all alone.
There is within these woods an ancient tree
Whose roots provide a peaceful place to rest;
Like gentle fingers, they encircle me
When by my thoughts I am too much oppressed.
Then I am of a sudden joy possessed,
Which I claim quickly for my very own;
I feel the love of Life within my breast,
And in the stillness I am all alone.
And in that place, I ponder silently --
Admire the tiny toadstools neatly dressed
In spots and colors, sitting quietly,
And cannot help but by them be impressed.
The rights of others they do not contest,
Nor under worthless burdens grieve or groan;
I understand their tiny lives are blest,
And in the stillness I am all alone.
So when dark doubts and fears have reached a crest,
And deep despair has pierced me to the bone,
I find that path and grant my heart's request;
And in the stillness I am all alone.
A cold, cold autumn wind,
Tickles my edges to the frills.
Making me wave to the people,
And starts to give me the chills.
Now a stronger gust,
Lifts my silken body free.
My shiny red skin shimmers,
For all the world to see.
Soaring like an eagle,
Two wings flapping bold.
Gliding past a homeless man,
Who tries to bear the cold.
Whizzing by a baker’s window,
Scents of pastries so yummy.
Glazed delights all so tasty,
Oh I wish I had a tummy.
Well, I suppose it’s best,
No watching calories or fat.
No diets and no exercise,
Well, what do you think of that?
Flying high with no care,
And free with utter delight.
Floating about until dusk,
That soon shall turn to night.
Few leaves play with me,
Falling from nearby trees.
Racing past me quickly,
Riding the autumn breeze.
My red serpent tail,
Rattles like a song.
Descending to pavement below,
And starts to slither along.
As I creep on by,
Hunting no prey at all.
Slipping down a storm drain,
Floating with the fall.
Tunnels with brown water,
Lead to a murky lake.
Silt crowds around me,
No fish here for Heaven’s sake.
Out here in this lake,
As one fisherman sits.
He nibbles on peaches,
And spits out the pits.
He carries at his side,
All that he holds dear.
A lonely soul he was,
Fishing this time of year.
He snags on my end,
And reels me to his side.
I curl up into a bow,
There is no reason to hide.
He smiles down at me,
And I gleam back too.
He places me in his pocket,
Knowing just what to do.
A few hours later,
He brings me back out.
To show to his daughter,
Who now begins to shout.
Her happy little grin,
A cheerful girlish giggle.
She waves me about,
Making me wiggle.
She shows me her dolly,
With old muddy hair.
And places me in it,
For me to take care.
I will make her pretty,
My red silk does shine.
This is where I’m happy,
I knew so all the time.
Under Edward the first
Our destiny was stolen
My country cursed
There were talks of it's return
For six more centuries
We would wait and yearn
On Christmas day
Four Scottish students
Decided to shift thee
A plot was in motion
To take back our stone
Return it to Scotland
For it should never have roamed
From West Minster Abbey
Our stone was retaken
Returned back up north
To a country forsaken
They returned to the church
This great stone of the Scots
To Arbroath Abbey
From a time so fraught
The police in London
Were informed of it's location
It was eventually returned
To the original thieving nation
In a symbolic response
To the dissatisfaction of Scots
Our political taunts
For on November the 15th
We met on our border
Our eyes transfixed
Of red sandstone
With iron rings
For upon who sits
A new monarch it brings
This block of stone
And where it lies
It's in Edinburgh castle
Where our proud saltire flies
Where it was meant to be
Stone of Destiny
Stolen by Scotland's children for the future of Scotland's children.
There is talk of it's return south of the border for the next coronation?
I very much doubt us Scot's will tolerate this request.
I do not know?
The lake was still sleeping
a light mist rose above,
a weathered dock could be seen,
its aged wood; full of memories.
The air crisp, breeze light,
trees majestic; watching all.
Squirrels busy scampering,
as a flock of geese soared above.
Way over yonder
clear across the still lake,
shining brightly were yellow shutters,
on our cabin; our special place.
We had toiled the garden
planted yellow roses with great care,
we had painted the old wood shutters,
yellow paint; speckled our hair.
The roof we re-shingled,
one painstaking nail at a time,
we even counted the ouches;
when our hammers got out of line.
With nothing but smiles
on our weary, aching bodies,
we held hands, and went running,
into the still of the lake; giggling.
We swam out to the dock,
it was a race; he won,
my hand he took laughing;
as he quickly scooped me up.
Our toes dangled playfully
sending ripples in the lake,
as we gazed at our cabin;
yellow shutters; fresh with paint.
The trees swayed slightly
as if nodding with approval,
for our cabin by the lake,
was our private sacred jewel.
As we cuddled together
warmth filled our souls,
for our bright yellow shutters,
symbolized, our love's blossoming growth.
It was on this very dock,
air crisp, breeze light,
when he gave me a yellow rose;
and asked me to be his wife.
One of the most positive writes i have witnessed to date
Was written today and well worth the wait
An awesome Quatrain, by this Devonshire poet
If you have read her past writes, you would certainly know it
What we see in our world now, is what she wants us to see
Dinosaur remains are an example to me
This beautiful planet will gladly reveal
As she shares her histories, our mysteries reveal
If we let her breathe, sigh and flourish
She may be more giving, as we help her re-nourish
And this write will be remembered for its visionary
And her mysteries will be our history
Inspired by " Stunning Revelations from Ancient Maps "
By Carolyn Devonshire
The wind did stir the thought in kind wanting - for if she knew my soul, just a spark
of it, I would be a rich man...
So long this ribbon of love that flows over the rocks of age and distant torment...
The gate keepers sit alone watching, waiting for the violators who dare not call
It is those shackles which bind misguided dreams that which make fertile ground for
the barkers at the door, for what else does one need to grey the vision and dull
You carry the scent of the well-traveled said the withered old man - I too know your
pain, that which comes from never knowing home - those of us who seek blindly
that which the world cannot give - home is not a place but a thought in time and
nothing more than a stop to rest your ambition...
Cry only for only those who cannot hear you, for it is selfish to do otherwise and
seek home in the gentle embraces of those that know you...
Be kind to those who would bite you, for in doing so it will bring light to a dark path...
Always rejoice in life - it pisses them off and helps them to see the tragic flaw of
their diluted beliefs...
Highlander so tall,
Dwarfs warriors in battle;
Brave heart of Scotland.
I went to Georgia without my bonjo in my hand
I knew it would be great after I landed and took a stand
I told them my name and they asked, "What's your fame?"
I reached for my muse and turned it loose like a goose
They straightened their ties and said “O’ me, O’ my!”
“We made a mistake about this poetic rhyming guy!”
Someone handed me a bonjo and they all joined the tango
My muse had its way and we had a wonderful stay
As we departed for home they started to sing,
“Hurry back poet, may your muse give you wings!”
I walked the graveyard of my mind last night,
I saw many people sleeping tight,
I saw the ones that made me smile,
I saw the ones, who were part of my biggest trials,
I saw the failures of my past,
I saw the sorrow of a childhood gone to fast,
I saw the liars, who stole from me,
I saw the heathens, who would never be free,
I saw the chameleons trying to blend in with the bareness
And vulnerability of winter trees,
I saw all those who listened
Yet silenced my innocent pleas,
But then I saw amazing grace,
Shimmering under a mercy tree,
I realized that all of those stones
Had made me what I was called to be,
Each plot was responsible for a certain quality in me,
Allowing me to be able to identify
With others drastically,
I saw the days of evil tightly bolted down,
I saw clarity, which was once lost
Now completely found,
I saw the pages turn
As the past had been burned,
I saw God's presence filling up
Every area where I yearned,
I saw a radiant light pointing far ahead,
Directing me out of my mind
Resurrecting all that was dead,
I saw those doors to that cemetery close tight,
As I continued towards what was bright,
I felt an unusual grin,
Overwhelm me from within
I saw an extraordinary flower,
Come forth with might and power.
By: Sabina Nicole
Gravity enters my thoughts, what ever goes up has to come down. As i start my descent from
the summit of this giant of the Grampians. My journey down is so different to the ascent.
Clouds build for the evening mass. The breeze has magically transformed into a cutting
wind, as the tallest of ferns whistle a goodbye.
The melting snows still show their march, small waterfalls run into fast flowing burns.
Lambs now hug close to their mothers, its as if they know nightfall is upon them. The
quietness of the glens are a memory now as modern mans noise appears from the distance.
The local mountaineer team are on the ascent on a training exercise. These unpaid
volunteers put their own safety in danger to save others who are in danger. The orangy
glow of street lights confirm my descent is complete. I head back home, tired, weary from
my day on the highest mountain in my homeland. But so alive in the joys and sights that it
allowed me to share on this day.
I do not know?
Take me to the other side,
A place where I can run and hide
A magic place where dreams come true
A perfect garden with a view;
An ivy covered arch hovers above the gate
Then picture roses of various colors and shape
Weeping willows spread throughout
Connected by vines and moss, to keep heat out;
Flowers as far as the eye can see
Spread upon a sea of green,
And this isn’t just any shade of green
It’s the deepest green, you’ve ever seen,
Downy, white, clouds, way up high
Watch as they go floating by
Many shapes leave no doubt
This is surely art, disguised as clouds!
Over the horizon,
Painted across the bright, blue sky
The most beautiful rainbow catches my eye
Red, green, yellow, purple, and, blue
Shades of these colors, so vibrant and true;
And if all of this sounds heavenly to you
Then wait until sunset, and enjoy the view
A view that is different from anywhere else
For this sun sets over land that’s been blessed…
He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.
Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears,
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!
I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!
I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father;
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?
He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!
Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep;
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!
Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "