One feels walled in by steel and concrete
While strolling down a large city street
Confined by noise and lack of fresh air
I believe I choose to not be there.
Show me a field whence wilderness grows
It’s sure to be where godliness flows,
Or by a small stream or riverbed
With a gravel path that’s been well tred.
Nature’s replete with sounds loud and clear
The birds and creatures all seem to cheer
There is great joy in God’s wonderland
Hear it sing aloud and sound so grand !
I love my life, the long and short
When I was young my heart was caught
Into a web fate spun for me
Out of the things I’d hoped to be.
The filament was light but strong
My wish was that I would belong
But sometimes dreams are overdue
And wishes cannot all come true,
Life teaches us accept the ploy
Learn to relax and then enjoy !
EXCUSE ME, but sometimes the fragility of life brings us closer to our creator while estranging us from the cruel reality of life at hand ! I do not comprehend the recent reactions of our nation to currently impending real life tragedies. How the times have radically changed ! I fear that Lady Godiva would encounter absolutely no reaction if her infamous ride were reenacted today in New York or Washington, DC, although perhaps she would get a streamer on E linking her to a candy manufacturer which says a great deal about present worldwide educational standards and the professorial elect class !! Wow, another mouthful ! What has happened to the old adage, “to thine ownself be true” ? Why have we now distorted traditional ethics ? Wherefore hast integrity escaped us ? Is this the new Dark Ages ? Questions, questions, are we partner to appeasement ? What is the purpose of a disengaged world organization that spends trillions of dollars and claims climate change is the enemy ? Oh sad the stranger in the dark, but sadder still the soul that cannot recognise the Handwriting on the wall ! A man once said,” Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani ?” that is “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me ?” Do we have an answer ? Sincerely, Claire B.
The hours fly like autumn leaves
Both sere and withered in the breeze
The days are lost, they’ve disappeared
Like storm toss’d trees all stripped and sheared.
Our yesterdays are hard to find
Our joys and pains are intertwined.
Confusion teases what we’ve known
With memories long deeply flown.
Our fleeting thoughts do come and go
We queue to wait for God’s next show !
Claire V. Bogdanos 