My poetry comes From up above, Sent down here To me like a dove, Inspirational gumdrops,
If I still saw life through a chi… People would still be people, There would be no rich or poor, No race no left of right, No ugly or beautiful,
Love is neither a color Or lack thereof, Love is not a belief or lack there… It is not wrapped in beauty or ugl… It is not male nor female,
Our sickness, illness disease Our stumbling blocks, Our unrest, Is God’s method His test Our souls are both
I’m finding my way Back to Dickie street, The land my great-grandfather John Boyd Dickie, Bequeathed to the city of Trenton…
I wrap myself in a warm, wool blan… On a wet, cold winter’s day, The isolation itself is a warm, so… Soft & consoling, Warming my weary bones
What innocence lives! Found in her sweet face, So pure, simple barely A trace of knowledge, her world is without cares,
Trees are gentle giants That scrape the sky With their groping grace, Timeless & motionless They mirror 'God The Father’s
Human beings are fickle, Sometimes we want ice-cream, Sometimes a pickle, At times in winter we are cold, In summer hot,
Why is blood the color red? Is it because our Creator wants Us to notice it when shed? Like taking in a blood-red sunset, Or when we are alarmed
The humble ant what a marvel, He can lift more than twice his we… And carry the spoils on his back w… The humble ant can worl for hours… Communicate simultaneously while w…
Turn off the tap, Mind thoughts feelings No more in rapt I feel myself reeling No longer is it noise or real,
God is perfect Religions are not, Humanities effort To reach heaven Is frought with imperfections,
The personals we turn to, In times of loneliness & despair, When times are tough When we are full of cares. In the personals we look
He came, He left, Again & again, He operated by stealth, He did not call me by name