I hope you know
your love for them
means something—
even if they cannot
be there to receive.
Star-felt, seen—capacities infinite—
resonances traveling deeper
than boundaries we create.
Even if love blooms
in soils of delusion,
does that make it less real?
Hearts do not measure truth
like minds—
what you feel still breathes—
sorrowfully exhaling
capacity to care.
Love, even unreturned,
reveals your heart’s bleeding truth—
its depth, its music—
its willingness to give.
And when your heart grows heavy,
remember: you deserve
that same devotion.
Turn your passion currents inward—
let them soften your spirit—
let them remind you
how worthy you are
of the love you so freely
channel.
8.20.25
My Mansion’s myriad of elongated spaces
full of small blue boxes everywhere
treasure in un-captured capacities
sealed with golden letters
turning tarnished over time
as simply forgotten to remember
key to the secret remained the same in eternity
cherished & choosing unfazed to connection
welcoming the eyes
in seeing the world you cannot know
and lets the heart believe in
the voice only you can hear
till it becomes the music of your love
to the life that resonates within
On Memorial of St. Dominic
We remember that man who sought to teach the truth in service to Father Christ
The Master Teacher
Every age has its errors
As Dominic encountered with Albigensian heresy over 800 years ago
In our time
We are likewise called to proclaim the truth both clarity
Charity
No matter our state in life Eternal God calls us to serve within our own unique capacities
Circumstances
Talents
The closer we grow to the Lord
The more dispenses the grace to persevere in holiness
Just as Saint Dominic followed Eternal God piously to lead the wayward to repentance
So
Too
Should we look inwardly and then outwardly to embrace the Gospel
Heavenly Eternal Father
Our world is full of confusion
Dissent from the truth
As we seek to live Your holy will
May we look the example of Saint Dominic
Who only spoke to You
About You
We pray this in Father Christ’ holy Name
Justin McClain, O.P.
Turned to Poetry: Jacqueline R. Mendoza
Poetry Form: Free Verse/Narrative
Date turned to Poetry: 8032024
Time turned to Poetry: 9:18pm
S tars perfectly align [cohabitation]
e ndless-spaces posing, [a-vast] cosmic, ecliptic, dance of
[c ast], at it's (station parting as chaotic entropy).
P ulling g a laxies together, a [tapestry] in intrinsic entrance of (separate positions adorning culled existence).
A fter eons of celeStial [tide], weaving fate's intricate [thread of] abode to abide (stretching partition arearing capacities extension).
C osmic wonders emerge, in this theater that the universe has advanced as (spreading propellant aortic celled expanse) .
E nergy transfered, transposedly, written and read as (s-ystem p-artition a-spiring c-onnection e-xistensibly.)
Constant sorrow, longing heart
A wounded soul that wishes to help
A sickened body that cannot die
Hating the physical condition
Yearning for the healing staff
Wishing I could help, knowing my body is sickly
Yearning and hoping my strength returns soon
Like a dream upon the sea of stars
Hurting the heart when my lover,
Doesn't believe my capacities
Feeling the crushing pain and sorrow fall down
The tears unshed waiting for the final release
My love lies bleeding, my heart opened up
My sorrowful song enclosed
my dreams slowly break on the harsh sea
Constantly my hope is battered across the rocks
Will it break soon?
Wishing that I had the same look,
Dreaming the fanciful illusion
Wishing to break the incubus curse
Always longing for a love that doesn't leave
The dragon and the Phoenix are bound in the bamboo cage
The dragon song moved the Phoenix heart
Soon they loved ensnared
When they regain freedom
Will their love still be there?
Fearing the way forward.
Regretting the troubled past
When will my heart find peace?
When will I be at ease?
When will I be free?
Oh shall they be called human nature —
Wildlife in an essence of reality
Angst is every faces you see
Whether they'd smile, let them be
Angst is fear, fear shall it be
This occurrence is no strange
Humans, they call us
Think alone we are
No my dear
We share, emotions the same
Capacities different stake
Oh, familiarity in angst
Never it is seen but felt deeply
Humans have lot of tensions,
It is subjected to extension,
Hard to place their notion,
In fear of not getting enough promotion.
But want to remind you all,
If Newton had thought,
No one would hear,
We would have stayed rear.
The invention and development,
would have become rare.
These days of modernity,
Is due to questioning capacities.
Must keep our calm,
Questioning will do no harm,
It is the strongest weapon everknown,
Has the capacity to unlock the unknown zones.
Oh how troubling to hear the scary sounds of hopelessness!
Even more so from aged ones leaving many questions; no answers.
A 97 year old man speaks and the world with ears open and heads up, listens.
He recently spoke of a cold war unlike any we have ever seen; between parties
Almost evenly matched with economic, military, and technological capacities.
Complex tasks and prior failures flood the vocabulary of experts.
He only predicts possible if not a probable catastrophic disaster.
We listen to him and return to our coffee while buying and selling.
We watch him in the news and resume our texting and taking selfies.
We deem men are wiser today, forgetting that humans rarely change.
We are less wise, but more woeful, more war-like, more self-destructive.
May we dare to be unlike our relatives of Noah's day, who never changed.
050221PS
Better performers interpret.
Experimental values appreciate.
Honest countenances humiliate.
Unknown delights elate.
Many pearls of wisdom concern.
Binding capacities hold.
Literary aptitudes exalt.
Extraordinary commendations mention
a dozen and a half times around the sun
and you’d think i’d know everything
about being young.
i know about blisters and adrenaline
and the way a person shifts when he
walks in the room.
i know about clay and the burn of rum
in my throat on a school night.
i know about being so cold my teeth chatter
but this house is a hundred degrees
and i know what it feels like to come
completely undone.
i’d still say i’ve got plenty to learn
because i’ve yet to know what it feels
like to love in the way that sets a
thousand monarchs free from containment.
i want someone to touch me like they
know i could break
and i want someone to touch me like they
they know they could
break me and
then, i think, i would feel like a boy
that has met his capacities
and a boy that will continue to fill
even after reaching
overflow.
Onions in my meatloaf, in chili, and in sloppy Joe's they make us smile
In scalloped corn, and of course mashed potato gravy once in a while
Onions are chopped, ready to be slopped into everything here
For my husband and I adore them, hold their taste the most dear.
Others can have their ketchups, mustards, mayonnaise, and such.
Onions are flowing around in soup and whatever else we dream up
We have a pile of onions in the laundry room, behind the wall of clothes'
If they were found to be nuclear, we would pretty much be okay to glow.
Onions on the counter, onions on the stairs, onions in my dreams.
We love them in all capacities, even fried, and boiled with our beans.
I know it sounds excessive, but I learned about them from my mother
They are supposed to have healing properties, according to her brother
We are never sick, so maybe onions have saved us some hospital time
We raise them in the garden, and they come out tender and so fine.
Onions in our meatloaf, in chili, and other wonderful homemade dishes.
Please let us enjoy our onions, they increase the taste of fishes.
I awaken with morning
sun on my face; breathing
in the fresh scent of spring—those
dew-pearls the droning bees and I both adore;
it is a fond, buzzing-sweetness;
this tasty treat of seasons,
eruptions of color and scent filling my capacities--
I am a flourish of youth again:
time to dust things off, those things kept from
the cold under wrap--opening all windows
and airing—renewing if just for a moment
those uncharted beginnings together,
how we gathered our daisies, drinking deep
from pools of forbidden nectar, with guiltless
delight.
Hillary Rodham Clinton of Chicago,
the former charismatic first lady of USA,
a good orator and a fine communicator I’d say,
confidence drips on her ever smiling face aglow.
In the turbulent times of her life in ninety eight
she was an emblem of cool composed maturity.
Despite the fragility she upheld the family integrity,
and carved a place in the contours of dignified trait.
As a breaker of the invisible ceiling she is a pioneer,
because women’s causes are so much dear to her heart.
Worldwide girl child education drive she made to start,
deeply spiritual, for all human values she is a warrier.
Many capacities gave her administrative discernment,
despite whatever happened in twenty sixteen
the American hearts she surely deserves to win.
They may get someday in her the first woman president.
March 23, 2019
I know that there's a grand design for life
That we're all formed in wonder and intent
So nature's palette blooms with color, rife
To daub its hues on all that's heaven-sent
Each sparrow, leaf or twist of amber grain
Is kissed by the Almighty's sacred breath
And every breach we cross, is not in vain
But ordered so to guide us, birth-to-death
Such miracles - we're each His masterpiece
The will to choose, so granted from above
Conceived in His own likeness to increase
And framed with deep capacities for love
God makes us each the canvas for His art ...
And paints life's precious colors ... on our heart.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Brian's Choice Z, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Hope Old Or New" Poetry Contest, Carolyn Devonshire, Judge & Sponsor.
(Ten syllables per line, counted at HowManySyllables.com)
we create monsters and gods
in our own image...and
but for their abilities
we surrender our capacities
to will and to think...and
hold to moral passwords
while obeying some other will...that
the ability to judge and
draw a distinction is replaced...by
an obligation to fear ourselves
as incapable because we are human...so
separate out the passions and noise as
thinking with them...you are lost
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