A Soul’s Breathing Way
Alleluia —my soul reaches — while
Presently
My body keeps still — only in the motion
Of breathing —
Unable to walk — I lie here
Riding time — through visions
over land and seas
Wild —
Without maps or measures — as
Before humanity determined
Moons or integers —
Alleluia — my soul discerns
Serenely
The musical turning of light
Lulling me along
To unset shores —
This ride to physical recovery —
Waiting —- wafting —
Will bear neither boredom nor
impatience —
While wending
Ever gently
On breathing’s rythm —
Alleluia — my soul gladdens
In songs of surrounding angels —
And is ever conscious —
To stay always praising —
Yahweh —
Three in One
Blessing — promises of
Breath and healing
I hold —
Alleluia —- my soul longs to sing
With a faith known
Prior to its birth or Eden
————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/11/22
Glory to God….
Food packaging was once simple.
Ketchup came in a glass bottle
with a small cap that you unscrew.
Now we have plastic package new.
Man’s cleverness comes to the fore
to give ketchup a novel pour.
What clever gadgets we are sold
but there are details we’re not told.
Just the right squeeze is critical
from plastic bottle flexible.
Now if it’s straight out of the fridge
you must squeeze hard to get a squidge.
Then it should be allowed to breathe,
inhaling just from underneath.
But if you overlook this part
the next squeeze with a splat will start
and all around receive a share
as bright red splatters everywhere.
So next time with plastic ketchup
give it breathing time to catch up.
Stepladder up to the ceilings
Held with high reasons and feelings
The bookcase
Volumes of joy and pure leisure
State their case as printed pleasure
A bookworm
Shape a life into linked chapters
Mind and soul as truth extractors
His bookmarks
Many things he can’t quite discern
Unfinished business much to learn
To bookends
Legends fiction subconscious streams
Myths fantasy and vivid dreams
Of booklore
01st May 2020
Never Give Up
Written: by Tom Wright
1/26/2018
When I imagine I’m a seed in a sidewalk crack,
Does it matter how erratic my journey might be?
Life’s storms always pass and I’ve sprung back,
For God didn’t deposit any surrender in me.
My life is a testimony that with others I share,
God’s presence was felt each time my path bent.
He said “cast your burden upon the Lord”, I care,*
I’ll embrace Him until my breathing time is spent.
* 1 Peter 5:7 KJV
NOT FOR CHILDREN
It had been in the window for a week,
A bedroom display with
Santa in the sack asleep,
His bright red clothes draped over the bedpost,
A half-empty fifth of whisky on the night stand
Adults looked on in horror
Especially the old folk
A drunken Santa passed out in bed?
That was no damn joke!
From time to time with onlookers
Santa - clad in white, trap door underwear -
would rise,
Sit his broad bare behind
On the edge of the bed,
Lift the fifth and take a swig
Oh how they gasped the church crowd
When Santa lifted, let out gas quite loud
Christmas Eve the shocking scenes were passed,
A breathing time come at last
The bed was empty
Santa gone clothes gone
Whisky bottle sanding empty BUT!
Gawking folk now looking skyward beheld
A sleigh eight reindeer
And the jolly old elf cracking whip, belching
good cheer
Rudolf still led the horned team in flight
But watchers beheld a stranger sight
Bold - lit up like a big red rose –
And thrusting a Star reaching beacon,
Santa’s whisky sodden nose
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