(“Before the Door”, 2023, original encaustic)
The older I get
The less concern I have
About ever being a saint,
But I’m sure that was a motivation
When I was younger
Although I’d have been loath to admit it.
Being a saint means being perfect,
At least in the final effect
If not the cause,
Being good enough to redeem one’s mistakes,
Help others and even make the world
And universe a better place.
Or so I thought.
Now, as I care less
About being saintly,
I see perhaps it means less about changing
Than simply acknowledging even celebrating
Others, the world, the universe, Life
Exactly as it is,
For the perfect creation
It’s always been.
(11/12/25)
The super low-grade low-brow, low-born guy
Is not at all a low life, but we don’t know why.
Possibly it is the resolve of is sainted mother
She made most of her parenting mistakes on his low-brow brother.
Tonight, our symphonic flight.
On our gold kite aloft, in flowing robes.
My white rose tiara, yours of gorgeous green leaves
Reflections of the peace which only we experience.
Free now, of all earth, its minions its power, its pregnant evil.
Breathe deeply your fragrant air, into mine.
We live forever in that divine cloud rapture.
Never to return, we exist for each other and God only.
In a starlit, only for two, forever affectionate hereafter!
Honored and Sainted
Pictures are to be
Painted while people should be
Honored and sainted.
Jim Horn
Have Been Sainted
While writing poem to enter in a contest
My effort became part of a personal quest
To improve all poems each and every one
Enjoy writing poetry and have much fun.
Comments constantly consider to be great
Write more poems causes me to contemplate
Regarding all my wording with its content
Hopefully, you understand what this meant.
Would rather set someone else's soul on fire
Consistently, continuously try and inspire
Others to create perfect poems some do say
And often many emotions they may display.
Super Duper Poetry Super is what you are
Often close and near or could be way out far
Poem are open and never slanted or tainted
And for each of them you have been sainted.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
Dissention’s her thirst…
Of her presence we are cursed
Throwing big stones first
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