"Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît pas."— Blaise Pascal
Smile
Man of the Mast
My Piece of Canada
Stars and Stripes Forever
The Angels Weep
That I across thy path should wander
Perchance glance in thine eyes sublime
And deep within their depths thus ponder
The mirrored soul that once was mine.
Safe haven there, I once sought fonder
waters than this sea's raging clime;
And safe I felt within their shelter,
Asunder though my soul be from thine.
Yet when fate's whim to change did ponder
Leaving body bereft of substance divine
Continued I my journey's saunter
Along a shaded path of pine and vine.
So curse me not upon my leaving
As I pursue my soul's own cleaving.
Speak to me of love, and I shall rejoice
To know that your eye's object is my own soul's port
Or that the subject of your tenor'd voice
Resonates no critique nor needs retort.
Speak to me of fate, and I shall reply
'Tis more than fate's silken thread that binds souls
'Tis choice by whose self-made might we comply
To deliberate oaths, to dual goals.
Speak to me of fear, and I shall remove
Myself from you to far-away shores
Lest I be overwhelmed and rightly prove
Your presence too powerful to ignore.
Only speak and make me to know your stance
Lest I pass by, knowing only your glance.
They were asleep. The song showered down.
But it was I, Caleb, who aroused them.
The noise was first slow, then with power--sound
Joined my howls of joy--angelic anthems.
I guard while the shepards investigate
Receiving an instruction from on high
To celebrate: "Come before it's too late
To behold your savior." Advent is nigh.
I remain alone with the sheep. I watch
For I am Caleb. I know my place.
I need no viewing, no scent to catch.
I sang with the angels in this sacred space.
These shepards are mine for I am their dog
And these, these are the sheep of my pasture.
She wears her pain like a purple heart--
An inner pain that tears her apart--
Hugs it close like a familiar friend,
Knows full well it'll kill her in the end.
A crying waif desiring some aid
Searching for something she has mislaid.
Fleeting childhood runs faster than time
Away with neither reason nor rhyme.
But those days are gone with a soft sigh,
Memories still remain, days gone by.
Just as a fallen damsel lacks cover--
Similar, a forsaken lover.
The joy she wore so proud and so free
Has departed now; she needs an abri.
And the purple stain won't e'er depart,
It's an inner pain--call it a heart.
And if I were to write
A song of joy to sing
With what words
Should emotions bring
To life the song that is mine?
And if I were to paint
A picture of love to share
With what colors
Should I then choose
To show the part that is divine?
And if I were to play
An instrument attuned
With what notes
Should praises aspire
To touch the secular mind?
God made a smile and the laughter
Tumbling from our mouths
Brightening our day, spreading His love
Throughout our house.
God made the humming bird and the mocking bird
Giving us merry song
Filling our hearts with His grace
'Till sorrow is gone.
Yes, God made a smile, giving it to the world
To enjoy forever.
Spread across the land, showing innocence
God and man together.
The magnificent might man mounted the mast
And proceeded across the face to be lashed
By rope and wind, by sea and swell,
Oh woe, on woe! mourns the twelfth bell.
Higher, yet higher he climbed to the sky
A sight, a speck of land to spy.
Ropes snapped as strings, the weather woefully wails
As secretly slip the songs from the sails.
The perilous plunge from the place he was perched,
If lanyard should happen to lunge or to lurch,
Would quickly kill him, cause him to crash below
And drift to the drink's deadly depths of despair
Without having uttered a speech or a prayer.
All this quickly crashed through the boggled-up brain
Of a restless, ragged rogue reformed by relentless rain.
My piece of Canada
Consisting of these
My grandparents with
Their memories.
Of days I have known
Of life on a farm
A life simply special
In ways simply warm.
I've grown with the tales
And lived them my own
Knowing from memories
Of this--my true home.
Stars and stripes forever
Is what we will see
Blowing over the land
As a reminder to you and me.
As a reminder to you and me
It still blows proud and free
Guarding the shores of the east and west
Telling us by God we are blest.
And so Old Glory still will wave
Over the land of the free
And the home of the brave.
God made the mountains so high
And the valleys so deep
That into them the angels might weep.
For all the people who are dying
The ones who have already gone
For the people who didn't get a chance
To hear of his saving Son.
And the angels did weep
To fill in each spot
So that others might see
What they've got.
And the rivers ran wild
And made beautiful song
So people might listen
And hear God speak all day long.
Je suis écrivaine
et dans ce domaine
J'agis comme une folle
Ce n'est pas très drole
D'être écrivaine