______________________________
God who can see the large picture of our lives does what is good for us. But we mortals have no patience. Something goes wrong against our wish and we resort to whining. This piece set in quatrains dwells on such a short-sighted act of men.
______________________
Leave us Lord, let us be,
Helpless have ye left us at life’s mid-sea--
Earth greets us with her gravity,
Leave us Lord, let us be.
Just let us do what we do with our faith,
We scarce what your sermon sayeth
In this cycle of life and death
In this world of limited breath.
Leave us to our what-so fate,
Tempt not with heaven’s ajar gate,
With destiny let’s have our date,
Leave us Lord, it’s too late.
Let us our own battles fight,
No use now for the light of new insight,
If lost, we’ll find our way from blight,
Leave us Lord to our light.
__________________________
Musings | 08.05.2026 | death, God, grievance/grief, faith, quatrain
Where are the children gone?
Where are the children gone ?
with their years of childish ways,
those precious years, so cherished,
now days, vanished in infants haze.
These days, they may look quite young,
polluted-not by disease, but by phone,
acquired at three, or five years old,
a digital highwayman, childhood flown.
Supplied by short sighted lead on adults,
to follow the trend, manipulated by media,
into the ether vanish the child they knew,
while mums and dads, walk in hypnopedia.
Where are the kiddies ? And childish games,
Where is the teared laughter in ring of roses,
Where are your children gone ? Lost in an app,
In war games, and ***** abuse, not Mams lap
Encounter after encounter
I have known your presence
But the perspective, always short sighted
The divide, long and wide
Following along
But never being beside
Dodging demons
Finding places to hide
...then you appeared
"Do you think it a small thing
For me to be sent to you today
Jesus considers you HIS friend
But to be a friend to the world
Is enmity against God"
Still, I thought the moment, strange
Floating along in the tornado
Waiting for it to slow
So I could ground
...then he came
Who am I that you are mindful
Of how I am digesting life
Why would you care for me
Where I am in the process
The company surrounding me
The effects of circumstances
On a fragmented mind
A heart so divided
It needs to be zipped
...she enters
Mission complete
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-20-2026
It was a wonder,
How could people live so short sighted?
Until a walk outside among them revealed,
That their compulsions had chased away the stars.
When you're surrounded by lights within arm's reach -
And every urge is reciprocated ten-fold,
Then how could you ever, in your wildest desires -
Possibly expect to shoot for the sky?
Indeed there are many good poems, here in rhyme and in
Prose.' In Haiku and Senryu ' Acrostic; who knows.? Also
There are some who, write comments while 'holding their own
Nose' we can think what we want.' We can write as we will!
Should there be a directive.? If so let it be of truth drawn
And out of (good-will) is there censorship.? Among the body.?
Not the hosts of this site.' Egregious evil should be negated
That is only right.' Yet to bring air to a subject be it soiled
Laundry.? Or foul capers.? Is the first step to health that
Must be addressed.' On screen or paper.' Who works here
Art? In the bright blaze of light.' Who would illuminate minds?
Be it by day or by the night.? Has reality no bearing? Or currency
To some minds? ( I read of good intentions ) yet some of the writers may as well be blind.' No one admits to censoring
Yet to cancel.? Its seems is sublime.' Those indeed get to pardon
Their own short-sighted-ness' moving along one un-democratic block at
A time.'
I'm sorry, Father
Of being short sighted
I don't know that I am
Wretched, poor, naked in your sight
I forget that I have a soul
I am wallowing in my carnality
I forget in my memory that you are God
That everything in me is yours
Thank you for my failure
In that I remember you
In that I was awaken
With my mistakes, my being weak
And there, I am walking again
In your path of righteousness
Thank you for reminding me
Thank you for the correcting me
Thank you for your grace and mercy
Thank you for loving my soul.
O Master, I laid all my burdens before you
I set all my pains, joys, and dreams at your feet
Surrendered them all for the chance to adore you
That we might be joined in communion so sweet
I gave you my life, which you gladly accepted
Desiring all my devotion and praise
You claimed me—no part of myself was excepted
That Your perfect plan might ordain all my days
I yielded myself to a life of abandon
To follow my Shepherd wherever You lead
You captured my heart by your grace and affection
I truly believe You are all that I need
But now, in my hour of trial, I falter
I see I am weak, and am losing control
I cry as my gift is consumed on Your altar
Becoming short-sighted, forget I the goal
Did I not yield freely my life to your lordship?
Did I not desire Your altar’s pure flame?
I chose to surrender, no matter the hardship
And yes, my intentions today are the same
I gave my gift freely; my life is to serve You
You rule o’er my heart and my life still today
Yes, there at Your throne I gave everything to You
I shall not take back that which I gave away
Trump should be defeated with truth and democracy
Not with weapons and zealous filled idiocy
Crooks, a young terrorist and short-sighted halfwit
Who sealed Fredonia’s fate and everyone who lives in it
Yalda’s fate that gods, angels, and men can’t outwit
Soon the shouts of people will make the land quake and split
Even if Crooks succeeded in his aim and made it
It would have made Trump into a martyr and spectre
Who even without that gold bold eagle sceptre
Would have his cold presence cover all of Fredonia
And make Fredonia burst into red and blue fire
And another man possessed by the phantom of zeal
Would arise from the ashes and makes Trump’s will real
Wanting blindly, even good
Seldom have few understood
Is ineffective
If one's doing's misdirected
Be the gentle heart well-guided
Not with eyes that are short-sighted
But mindful and wide
Else be intention misapplied
Promises
Empty echoes
Of a lover’s
Short sighted vision
Forever
An unfathomable goal
Enshrined
In the ecstasy
Of Love’s whimsy
Kept
Together
In Loves “castle keep”
Protected
Cherished
Defended
Freed
In tear-soaked agony
Cursing
The brevity
Of forever
Butter the toast, butter knife, bread.
blue plate, no sunlight, short-sighted blue night,
electric rings of silence.
Breakfast is slow,
not that hungry but there is honey
and I am lonesome in a tired body.
Soon, hands will press the tabletop,
will rise up, push up to lace-up walking shoes,
enter the coming light
that unsteady, unready light
with its slippery yo-yo gleams,
enter it all; the concrete hills,
the leaf and branch, the cast-up legs
of the still twitching,
the buoyant tumbling of the living,
the pumped-up throats
of the starry-eyed singers,
enter it fully, growing less unlikely,
enter myself as an unrepentant prodigal son
returning home.
Today we went to the zoo,
clouds scud high and the sky was blue.
Mum,sis and me filed in the queue,
Gran and Gramps waited too.
Giant giraffes,six metres tall,
looked over a stable stall.
Short sighted rhinos with a keen sense of smell,
hippos wallowing in a mud-filled well.
Asian elephants lifting logs,
leaving the crowd all agog.
Gorillas foraging fancy free,
penguins 'catching' fish for tea.
Free to roam,bok and antelope,
sea lions leaping over a rope.
Amazing scenes to recall and digest,
picnic places to eat and rest.
Gift shop,ices and more besides,
entertainment diverse and wide.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Our rosy love grew fast to bloom,
Burnt in the heatwave of desire -
Young and impervious to doom -
Out-lusted, nothing to admire.
We spurned our tender love, my rose;
Its lustre faded, petals dried,
Fast beating hearts, now hollow, froze -
Nothing but thorns lodged deep inside.
Short-sighted sweet impromptu love!
Strong lasting roots grow underground -
Well nurtured is the rose we have -
And now it blossoms lifetime-round!
March 20, 2023
We need heroes
(Our youth are afraid)
By Michelle Morris
08/03/2023
We need heroes
We need them every day
We need them to live
Not die as we pray
Our youth are afraid
And it's understandable
We are not being leaders
We are not being brave
Those in power are short sighted
They're looking at getting richer
Making decisions from their egos
Not considering anyone's future
We need heroes
We need them in every sphere
Across the world we inhabit
Across cultures and belief systems
For true heroes are prepared to sacrifice
They give everything for the greater good
They put themselves on the line
To save people and livelihoods
We need to raise the bar
We need to do what's right
Make the tough decisions
To save future lives
© Michelle Morris, 2023
You will just have to teach yourself
one poor female victim at a time
for kissing is a dangerous occupation
for adolescents and virgins.
Angles and shapes have to be factored in
at lightning speed
before the plunge is undertaken.
The neck must be adjusted to height and
the trajectory of the pursed lips meet
as a natural occurrence
like two butterfly wings
brushing each other in flight.
On first dates
short-sighted rhino clashes
must be avoided at all cost.
Noses and teeth
will always get in the way somehow
just a fact.
In time, with much trial and error
the young will get the hang of it
and it's rather nice
in an often sloppy sort of way.
Eventually tongues are employed
in strange animalistic tasks
that they were never designed for
but in the heat of the moment
eating is often mistaken for kissing.
Go forth confidently then
you young men, but always remember
"though a kiss might be gentle
and oh so elemental
diamonds are a girl's best friend."
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