fall sky littered with leaves red
few young greens kiss empty nest
worn winds heave sighs of lost hope
bidding adieu - laid to rest.
Can you remember when folks
waited to hear the facts of a case
to come out before rendering judgment
It wasn’t too long ago that what we’re
witnessing in Minneapolis
was known as ‘mob justice’
Something we thought ended with the
demise of cowboys and the wild west
I leave the garden of the past behind
all the lovely tangled vines
and step into the garden of new growth
it is time to lay the past to rest . . .
So in the dawn of tomorrow
I am reborn . . .
A poem exploring the moment someone finds faith in any religion.
A moment from seeking to knowing, from external pursuit to internal acceptance, and from loneliness to spiritual belonging.
Love is revealed not as something missing but as something forgotten—rediscovered through faith and self-recognition.
As they find themselves included in divine joy, celebration, or grace.
Jubilee implies forgiveness, restoration, and release—suggesting that love is not earned, but granted through existence itself. Salute.
Title.
Have you been reborn?
(A lone voice whispers)
I once searched for love over land and sea.
Looked deep into all of life's many mysteries.
Only to find it lives within me: when I finally realized—I'm part of God's own jubilee.
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Blink Blink-okay , this is real
No dream is happening here
Wait a minute... I feel healed,
Joy and happiness replacing fear
I look up to the High,
Only to hear myself whisper, Thank You
A habit I once had to hide
Beats in a rhythm my heart never knew
No memories holding yesterday
No regrets weighing down my shoulder
Here they come-the tears race their way
I've been healed... reborn, bolder
Blink Blink-yeah, this is real
You stand witness to my testimony
My suffering no longer has a place to live;
Those storms never could own me
I was a disroped shadow,
alone on an island,
far from the wife, kids,
clubs, cars and the mansion.
How would I move back to the highland,
with my character, dignity and identity
now a transgression.
As each day passed
things continued to worsen.
Boozed bloodshot eyes of stress,
I thought to myself,
could this be the end,
was I gasping for my last breadth?
Had my day of reckoning finally come?
I looked in the mirror,
no one was there, all was lost.
Somehow an inner strength came,
who knows from where,
this was my angelic avenger,
I would hold her at all cost.
My Joan of Arc,
I certainly did not call,
she was manifested
from enduring this ferocious storm.
This new foundation
that would end my fall,
everlasting strength was here.
I had been Reborn.
PERSONALLY SPEAKING: Title - This Autumn Crypt
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Date: 01-Nov-2025
---------------------------------------------
The season of the grows come to an end;
Lifeless leaves make their beds of rest,
In their suits of yellows and browns,
Decaying fields of bare bones heave a sigh.
They will persevere the long night,
Through the harsh wrath of the wintry death,
Before giving way to a new life --
And like a phoenix they shall rise.
"Flowers fade and decay through wintry hours- waiting for rebirth." Quote by - Constance La France
Down a path with nature I walk,
seeing what summer left behind.
I walk beneath the mighty tall shade trees,
dripping colorful leaves.
Winter white cotton candy clouds,
turning into a dark sad gray.
Are looking like they will decay this year,
flying high saying bye.
Cold and bold winds are now blowing,
bringing soft white fluffy snow down.
Decay ground ready for a big snowman,
red bird sits on his head.
Winter is a quiet season,
pretty flowers will fade away.
Sleeping and dreaming about warmer days,
not all to be reborn.
Spring will bring us a bright rebirth,
flowers awaking to the world.
Butterflies kissing each new flower bud,
pretty colors blooming.
ignorance the cause, delusion the result
with ego in control, spewing imaginary fears
we fell down a bottomless abyss of dread
suffering pangs of slow strangulation
we had nothing to show for life lived thus far
as we helplessly watched organic form decay
pausing flow of thought, shifting into the void
we asked the existential question, ‘who am I?’
whereupon divine magnetism rose from within
teleporting our formless presence to heaven
bliss currents amplified within our body-mind
whence we saw our true Self as living light
The Black Box
They came to the house
for the wrong reason.
In the end…
They didn’t care,
any address would do,
as long as the reports were made,
and the numbers taken down
before the beginning of the next shift.
They came,
and they tested
and then they required adherence to the law.
What law?
The one law they painted into place for us…
from our lost imaginings,
and faith spent wrongly.
Together, trapped in the moment,
a single instance in time
that refused to pass to the next.
Nice words…
are echoed,
as if sung loudly in a cave,
dark with shadow,
and then immediately swallowed up…
in silence.
Fights, lessons in public places.
Brawls and beatings to show control,
where there is none…
and never will be.
Scuffs at first,
then real marks are ground onto
and then into the surface.
Marred deeply…
Becoming part of solid stone,
which will show
again with each days passing,
into forever.
“Ask yourself..., Who are the speaking about?”
There's a hint
of winter in the evening air
as the autumn days
dwindle down to a golden few
but I'm looking forward to
spring and all it will bring
when the whole wide world
is reborn anew
and then with summer
just around the corner
to see me through
I'm thinking of
early mornings with you
to meet the sun
and how a daydream or two
for now will do
to put these winter blues
on the run
I’ve always dreamed of painting
with fire—
lash the canvas with embers,
watch the smoldering orange spread,
chasing white into flame—
before my chaos dies into silence.
It feels natural, this
need to see my art burn—
they’re not complete, not before
the charred ink is bathed in heat.
I paint with alcohol then
ignite—
so my work is no longer
just raven lines on pale paper;
so I can burn with the words—
and live as silence.
Pain sat in my chest all winter.
I tore it open—
primrose petals burst from my rib cage.
Recognize years of selfishness
Confessioning all sins
Surrending all to him
Praying for his forgiveness
Praying for his grace
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Narrow minded
Turning away from his guidance
Focusing on my own wants , desires
Too Blind to see
Listened but too deaf to truly hear his message
As I walked a different chosen path
Mentally checked out
Lost faith, ambition
Hurt all angels he the lord
Blessed upon me with
Struggling with heaviness of the weight
Afraid of the unseen
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Submitting
As the daybreak's
blessings crash on to me
washing away
Stepping out refined, retuned, restored n refreshed
REBORN
A holiday is coming our way
when Jew-haters almost carried the day
The demagogic Persia of 2,500 years ago
reborn today as Iran we know
Eerie remembrance of horrors past
for failure to terror smash
Would that the heroes of the Purim of old
inspire us moderns to be as bold
Esther and Mordechai, rise up again
another Holocaust to prevent
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