Nighttime – A Poem

Nightingale – Image by wal_172619 from Pixabay

At nighttime:

Life’s heart remembers to beat,

The nightingale remembers its songs,

The evening primrose remembers its fragrance,

The night gladiolus remembers to bloom,

The Sun remembers the horizon,

All of created Light

Remembers the darkness,

And shines the inexhaustable beacon

Of unconditional love,

On us all.

A tribute to poetry – A stream of unconscious Poem

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

What syllables can be uttered in your praise

Your extended metaphors an allegory of our days

Your alliterated couplets coin bonanzas in your stanzas

Your rhymed refinery our collective muse

When with ambiguity your meaning fuse

Your prickly metre sometimes trampled underfoot

When by chance, personification looses its comfort

Your selfless selfishness the antithesis of your longevity

Famous lines a life of their own perpetuity

Alas! “To be or not to be…”

Flesh on the bones of your sonnet’s charcuterie 

You bamboozle with chiasmic twist

“The first last and the last first.”

Poetry, your reflective meaning glows

And even through ellipsis…flows

Poetry, you are a much prized gem in the elusive crown of prose.

“The spring of love”

Image by Radfotosonn from Pixabay

Born this day May 16, in 1788, Friedrich Ruckert. His poems influenced classical musicians, whose works are legendary.

He inspired the likes of Brahms, Schubert, Robert Schumann, Clara Schumann, Mahler, Richard Strauss, Zemlinsky, Hindemith, Bartók, Berg, and Hugo Wolf.

Although he was not world famous, over 120 musical pieces credited his poetic works as the source of inspiration. Featured below is Ruckert’s The Spring of Love.*

Proof, I think, that what one creates does have an impact.



The Spring of Love

Dearest, thy discourses steal
From my bosom’s deep, my heart
How can I from thee conceal
My delight, my sorrow’s smart?

Dearest, when I hear thy lyre
From its chains my soul is free.
To the holy angel quire
From the earth, O let us flee!

Dearest, how thy music’s charms
Waft me dancing through the sky!
Let me round thee clasp my arms,
Lest in glory I should die!

Dearest, sunny wreaths I wear,
Twined around me by thy lay.
For thy garlands, rich and rare,
O how can I thank thee? Say!

Like the angels I would be
Without mortal frame,
Whose sweet converse is like thought,
Sounding with acclaim;

Or like flowers in the dale;
Like the stars that glow,
Whose love-song’s a beam, whose words
Like sweet odors flow;

Or like to the breeze of morn,
Waving round its rose,
In love’s dallying caress
Melting as it blows.

But the love-lorn nightingale
Melteth not away;
She doth but with longing tones
Chant her plaintive lay.

I am, too, a nightingale,
Songless though I sing;
‘Tis my pen that speaks, though ne’er
In the ear it ring.

Beaming images of thought
Doth the pen portray;
But without thy gentle smile
Lifeless e’er are they.

As thy look falls on the leaf,
It begins to sing,
And the prize that’s due to love
In her ear doth ring.

Like a Memmon’s statue now
Every letter seems,
Which in music wakes, when kissed
By the morning’s beams.

The fifth day – A Poem

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

Perhaps the fifth day

Isn’t just another weekday –

The cathedral to week’s end


A whisper of all that came to life in Eden.

When great whales surfaced for air for the very first time,

When pelicans and parakeets and penguins,

Found rest for their feet in Havilah’s prime.

And, it was the day before our ancestry.

For, on the sixth day we,

Came to life to have and to be,

In the dominion of created company.

Phoenix – A Poem

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Forgotten dreams surface – plans to aspire.

Their details dance in memory’s flame,

Like sparks from the ashes of a campfire.

Were they dreams to accomplish,


Truth enchanted,

To keep our hearts soft with compassion for life,

When comes the many times during strife,

We somehow rise as a living spark,

From the Phoenix of our ashes.

The cool of the day – A poem

Sunrise = Image by Sean MacEntee on

Before sunrise splendor rolls up the horizon like a scroll.

While nocturnal dreams under eyelids roll.

Into the stillness beyond night’s gateway,

Comes…the cool of the day.

Where the fire of life – The invisible divine presence,

Carries the tender waking soul,

Into a new day.

Herbs – A poem

Image by cocoparisienne on Pixabay

The herbs with their seeds,

One of the Creator’s earliest deeds,

To direct the anthem of his giving.

The lowly herb serves all living.

Mint’s minor notes mingle over rocky fields.

Chamomile chants its hymns to colorful yields.

Sage sings silently hiding in green meadows.

The Dandelion drums on yellow flowers as it grows

And what songs can be sung of :

Echinacea, Holy Basil and Milk Thistles

To their sweet refrains, all of nature whistles.

The gathering of the waters – A Poem

Image by adamkontor from Pixabay

Before time began,

The gathering of the waters, the Oceans,

Gave us an inheritance in the land to keep.

Its mysteries hidden in the legacy of life – the deep.

It hoisted oxygen as its sacred sail;

Its movements flutter with our every exhale.

In unison, its waves echo our common heartbeat.

Its shores, offer a place to feel complete,

Where, its ebb tide wanes,

Like the pulsing in our veins.

Private Meditation: The housekeepers – A Poem

Image by JohnArtsz from Pixabay

Night and Day – the housekeepers of Time.


They scrub the sky – the roof of Time,

So that we may tell the seasons.

They remind us to number the days,

So that we find our own ways,

To the paths ahead.

They polish the table of our daily bread –

Our divine wages.

And, they dust off life’s stages,

So that in our life on earth,

Our personal history,

Is our fulfilled story.

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