Old Solomon, he was a king
Who did possess most everything
He was the wisest of all men
None would e’er be alike again.
His instructions came from above
Conerning God and His great love
For forty years he ruled replete
His job, God’s Temple to complete.
This task achieved in seven years
And lauded by both prayer and tears
Oh sad end for King David’s son
He’d lost his way and was undone !
EXCUSE ME but next week will mark the 101st anniversary of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria and his wife Sophia’s assassination June 28, 1914, the day the world as we knew it died ! Who thought this long simmering catastrophe had its beginnings in interreligious wars between Muslims and Christians ? Not I, said the duck ! Not I, said the turkey ! What I find confounding is we have here a situation existing not 100 years but 1300 years of which most of us are not cognizant ! So I ask why ? Certainly a distinctive lack of coherence and understanding. What is the problem with the world’s educational system so as to leave at least 7 billion inhabitants in darkness ? I am beside myself in my frustration and 7 billion pairs of deaf ears, veiled eyes and ignorance doesn’t make me feel any better ! How about you ? Is all this chaos for nought with total annihilation as the only answer left ? Who is there to tell the world GET REAL ! Sincerely, Claire B.
Wherever you look this world is shaded in green dye
From the forest’s floor clear to a rainbow in the sky,
A verdant place live with the miracle of God’s care
Plush valleys, woodlands and mountains that rise in the air.
What is green? I know that its not these roads that I trod
But the friendly gardens I pass that wave me a nod,
The blazoned grass in the fields and the oak when it’s young,
The trees that cover each grove with their seed as they’re sprung,
Grasshopper’s in flight emitting sounds that echo and hum,
No, not the air that we breathe but the source that it’s from.
Green’s my favorite color and the color of pine
Like the stem of each flower and the stalk of each vine,
The crest of each hill that’s burdened with blossoms it blows,
The fruits of the orchard and the tall corn as it grows,
Solemn moss upon a rock that betrays not its age,
A bird’s chorus sung from a branch, the air as its stage.
What is green? The deep of the sea, the heart of a palm
The chant of the willow’s sweep like the words of a psalm,
Caterpillars at birth and the new bud of a rose,
The youth of a man, the lid of his grave at its close,
The rigid eyes of a cat while its vigil will keep
In silence watching some prey, seeming lulled into sleep,
And there, like vespers in the wind that scatters its seeds
Fast being held in the grasp of life’s swift spreading weeds
Tiny sprouts that protrude through the wet earth after rain
Are now promising me hope that the green will remain.
While the green of an emerald possesses great worth,
The best of life’s green is bound to the crust of the earth
Be glad that green’s the one color we cannot replace
It relieves the monotony of blacks, browns, and grays.
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Claire V. Bogdanos 