We don't need to lift
a finger to get saved.
We just need
to open our mouths and confess
that “Jesus Christ is Lord.”
Simple.
Easy.
Do we set our sights
on sin afterwards?
Emphatically no!
Do we suppose we'll never
sin;
we are sinners
saved by God’s grace.
Anyone, everyone, everywhere
can look to the shame
of the cross.
When we look into Christ’s face,
His glorious grace,
why would we turn
our backs?
Now, saved,
all our efforts work
for the Kingdom.
If you believe
you are saved
by your own effort,
here’s a thought:
‘Can we ever be good
enough to merit
heaven?’
Only by God’s mercy
and grace
can we enter
through the pearly gates.
You can disagree;
there is but one truth.
I can’t call this “my truth,”
but still
you are free
to disagree.
Ode to my neighbor’s horrible cat
Disgusting behavior that little turd
Emphatically speaking I say that
Teary eyed for he killed my bird
One understands it is nature’s way
Couldn’t have let my parakeet live
All I could do was purple pray
That a dog will give him his
Teedee was our bird’s nickname
What a horrible death in vain
Ode to a crazy cat insane
.
sumthem mine
tickle
wonder
pop
sumtheirn emphatically
eyne
froze'd open
pop
((bam))
(boo)
'tiz i
yourn shoot (edvard silly)
secrete meanz
monzter
((pop))
')>
whut
REMNANTS OF NATURE-:-
robust
energetic
anecdotes
oddly
ambivalent
in PASSIVE POSTURE
precludes
underlined
titles
deliberately
subverted
in COUNTER IMAGE
emphatically
unstable
impressions
theoretically
subjective
Written: November 15, 2025
***********
The mirror shatters—
not from age,
From the weight, though,
of observing eyes.
Their words were what I wore.
similar to borrowed clothes,
woven silently,
strung with terror.
But one day,
I peel the skin
They painted on me.
and entered
my own development.
The wind did not question.
Reasons I moved around.
The sky did not flinch.
at my chuckle.
Even the trees.
praised my rebirth.
Now I am strolling
not to be seen,
but to experience
the beat of truth—
not judged,
unbound;
Emphatically mine.
My daddy built me a tree house in the top of twin cottonwood trees
I wondered if he knew what he was doing at first, for I watched every step
He started with a wooden garage door and cut two squares out of the sides.
I said nothing, being ten, respectful, and knowing better. This was 1962.
I was amazed when he pushed that door down into those trees.
It was a marvelous fit. This was the floor of the best treehouse in the world.
The bark of a cottonwood is white with gray slivers, and it holds lots of ants.
I spent three or four summers in that treehouse reading books.
I read biographies, mysteries, and books on the supernatural.
Sometimes I took a sandwich up, and something to drink.
Don’t ask me how I got the drink up there, because I do not remember.
My identical twin stayed in the house to vacuum, dust, clean, and bake.
Spied on neighbors from this blind; watched them hang out their clothes.
Listened the Dellabettas argue in their beautifully fast Italian language.
Heard my mother laughing with her friend Pat. They had fabulous laughs.
These memories make me smile; I emphatically loved that treehouse!
An anonymous artist had named the painting:
'Bertram Crumm'
it was simply a depiction of a man
trudging over a blank Landscape.
No one had heard of this man,
but this enigmatic fact alone was intriguing,
and now he was perfectly framed.
After many years
an art critic tracked him down.
Crumm claimed to be a meatpacker
who worked in Allen Town,
yet no one could see him as a meatpacker
working in Allen Town.
Some saw nobility in his gait and posture,
some saw a furtive mindset, most declared
emphatically that Crumm was definitely
a poet!
If we had known
that Crumm had often confessed to his family
that he loathed poetry and was indifferent
to art in general
then that landscaped/portrait
would still be gathering dust in a Goodwill shop.
However, a billionaire owns it now,
and ironically,
he also can't write a lick of poetry either.
Heard the term “outside the box”?
What box are they referring to?
Sitting in my jammies at my computer
Don't see no box, do you?
A term you hear a lot these days
What can it possibly mean
This old guy is totally confused
Totally betwixt and between
Catch phrases have always confused me
Prefer simple Dick and Jane words
So all us grandpas can decipher them
This stuff is sure for the birds
Maybe I'll get an old cardboard box
And sit me therein for a while
Then emerge and start thinking of stuff
In a clever “outside the box” style
Really that's not at all what it means
Heard someone say emphatically
To go where no man has gone before
Think a lot more erratically
Now confused much more than ever
Think I'll lie down for a while
Till the world spins a few more times
And I get back my winning smile<>
Pray to Him…ask Him…and you shall receive
All you need to do is have faith in Him and believe.
He hears your praise and your prayer
He will safeguard you and love you because He will always care.
His love for you is absolute and emphatically true
Open your heart to Him and He will be a personal savior to you.
He died on a cross for you and three days later, ascended to glorious Heaven above
You are a cherished child of His, and for you, He has the utmost sincere love.
When Summer is gone along with substantial flowers,
a lingering memory, I wonder “were you here at all?”
It will only be, in each new Spring reviving,
that the iris near the tear duct blooms.
When Summer is gone and leaves float downstream
blains renew with a chill in the air,
and the maples and oaks lose
their grief stricken hues.
When Summer is gone, that means Spring too,
then Fall is the midpoint so far from you,
as the years yield their acorn pelts
I pumpkin-kiss and miss you.
When Summer is gone and the “I love you,” is silent,
in the deep drifts of the Winter white blanket,
still I hear your motherly voice in the wind,
emphatically reap your snowdrop smile.
pink paragon
renders no features;
a buoyant olive
shouldered above florid wings.
golden halo, open ring.
nature’s schmooze, profound.
deeply saturated midnight
in the labyrinth of the deep.
peacock blush of fancied feathers.
the heart beats
a magnanimous red,
emphatically so,
with corona seeds
like rays of the sun.
Max’s angel in surround sensation
would overwhelm the flesh.
the scent of peak, kaleidoscopic climax, meridian elocution -
an euphoric Eden.
With common sense so sporadic
I just want to be emphatic
But with all this social static
It's hard to remain pragmatic
When personal narcissism
and tribal autism
choose our words
as hurting
threatening
weapons of trauma defense
Rather than choosing wealth
of healing win/win tools
for compassion's therapeutic
mind/body unfence
We soon find
that no one cares
to impatiently listen
outside our partisan walls
For whatever future mindful kindness
and EarthBody forgiveness
we cannot trust
will win/win
wealth/health last.
Remembering the ages, spent with my shadow – priceless moments when I sought her, scrutinized her, emphatically stalked her because, in reality, she was clearly stalking me! ~ quote by poet
~~~
Flowing, a silhouette, dancing
Under streams of delicate light
In gentle whispers, entrancing
Persuasive musings who excite
Echoes of starry eyed wishes
Glistening beneath the moonlight
Sighs melt the breath as she swishes
Persuasive musings who excite
Glowing, figures freely strolling
Gesturing to the roaring night
Old followers need consoling
Persuasive musings who excite
Flowing, a silhouette, dancing
Persuasive musings who excite
A point to ponder…
why I wonder
when we are young
and get jerked awake
by a dream or a nightmare
are we hugged and comforted
given the assurance
“It’s not real, it’s not real!!”
and when we are older
and get jerked awake
by a dream or a nightmare
we tell ourselves
with great relief
“It’s not real, it’s not real!!”
whether young or old
we will however marvel
at how unbelievably
real it was
but will gratefully accept
the comforting fact
that it wasn’t real
not any of it
it all happened
inside our heads
but
when someone
has a near-death experience
and they tell us
of all the wondrous things
that they saw and did
inside their heads
whilst clinically dead
there are those of us
who emphatically believe
that what went on
inside that head
on that occasion
was in fact real
proving beyond doubt
that there is life after death
that that experience
fuelled and moulded
by the unknown forces at play
inside our heads
whilst clinically dead
actually happened
what I wonder
is the difference between the two
all of it
every single bit of it
happens
inside our heads.
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