They look great and did no wrong
they bring a twinkle of joy to you and I
as a symbols of a hope and love and more.
And yet after the sixth of January
we tear them down,
box them up and put them in attics
or storage, as if they are meaningless,
at least for the next ten and half months of the year. ..
What strange creatures we are, with
odd traditions which are an amalgamation
of what came before, and was popularized
by peoples long since gone and still we
hold-on, guided by the past and our sense
of preserving traditions. But why?
We do so because we allow ourselves
to feel as we did as children for
six weeks of every year… but what
if we could keep this feeling always?
Well the last year seemed short
but I’m here to resoundly report
and firmly commit and exclaim
that this year will have a name
and will be longer I can say
by one complete whole day,
as we enjoy a “leap-year” 2024,
a year which surely won’t bore.
When you have more memories
than dreams in your head
and hope is replaced by plans
and the years are ever shorter
and the children are ever taller
then, dreams of theirs become
yours, and their plans are now
your hope, it is then you realize,
your dreams are coming true!
May all of you near and far
know that this Christmas Star
is the sign of a time renewed
where all pain which has ensued
can be healed as a repaired-past,
so a new love and peace may last
because we gave it a new start
by letting the Word into our heart.
It seems to be a circular conundrum
that words are needed for thoughts
which beget feelings, and feelings
are needed for emotions, which
are expressed by words for them to
then become thoughts, and without
thoughts, feelings are meaningless
and there are no need for words for such
meaninglessness in life.
Except that feelings might have
begat the need for words to express
emotion in ways more than just action,
which then led to thinking,
and therefore feelings invented words,
which clearly caused thought, which then
adds meaning to what otherwise
might be the meaninglessness of life.
So then, is it the poet who is
full of words which come from feelings,
but are different from, but the same
as thoughts causing confusion or
rather the fusion of thoughts and
feelings into a commitment to
to the meaningfulness of life?
… and by now you might be thinking
the poet is quite full of something else!
The act of being joined in
politics,
in harmony,
in mutual benefit
in the strength of numbers
in the financial value of more than one
in the coupling to make a longer pole or pipe
in the state of a merging of interests and purpose
and mathematically … the set that comprises all the elements and no others contained in any of two or more given sets … bet you didn’t see that coming 😉
The ubiquity of the molecule is the ubiquity of life,
it is everywhere, in everyone of us flowing through
life, flowing through the Earth and the atmosphere,
being scarce when it’s needed the most, being overly
abundant when we cannot have any more of it,
elusive if it chooses to be but yet ever present.
Water kills and brings life and it tells its story
if we should only listen. It tells of when it was so very
young at the very start of everything, through
the life eruptions, the middle turbulent times,
on to the present and into the future, for it is
constant, and transformative, and indestructible …
If we have no scars then we know not of life,
for to risk life, risks failure and this then
makes us better for the experience
and these lessons which leave marks on us
give us the stories to tell to all who may
listen that we lived well.
If your day begins something like this
then how could you feel anything but bliss?
For the rain is clearing as the sun rises
to begin its journey ‘cross azure-painted skies,
and family and friends find time for you
because of a birthday for you know who.
And I am surely blessed for such a day
because of all those who took time to say
they wish the best for someone like me,
awed by the rainbow I was fortunate to see,
and by those whose love is alive in me,
so I may understand the story we’ve been told
that life and love is the very real pot-of-gold.
The scent of open air grilling, frying,
and the mingle of hundreds just trying
for a bit of heritage, a taste of the past,
of flavors, and music which continue to last,
because it is beautiful, joyous and we long
for it, we hang on to it like a child’s song
ancestors long-ago would surely know
and sung with gusto we’ll rarely show
today in our staid button-down worlds
and they’d dance, with swinging and twirls
as a community of language, music and food
recapturing the feeling of a happier mood
and of times log ago, in lands so far away,
except for the fortunate, who still sway
in their hearts to the beat of ancient times
bringing them in touch with ancestral minds.
