Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Staring into the Greenness

vvvPondering upon
vvmeditating on
the seasons
the revolving, evolving door of life
vvstops for a moment
vvvwhile still spinning

And I see the Spring so clearly

vvvlost in a vortex
vvof thought. floating
standing. staring into the greenness
the grass is so tall
vvit swallows any stray
vvvwandering cats or dogs

vvvfrogs or tiny action-figures
petals or dreams
vvvcarried by the wind

or otherwise . . . that have fallen

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Thursday, April 24, 2008

And Love Began to Rain

Overnight it seems
the cherry tree has blossomed
tiny pinkish-white petals flow in the wind

sweet-smelling blooms
hang on and the sky
not only whispers

But shouts of spring . . . .

And the love began to rain inside my soul

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Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Proof of Good Memories

After watching Dane Cook

outbursts of candid
fill the room

my laugh
reminds me
of my father’s

I can remember
the last time we laughed

we were watching
the Three Stooges.

we laughed until
the tears rolled down the cheeks
of our so-alive faces
holding our mid-sections
in a wonderfully aching display
of laughter
between a father . . . and a son.


Minty Green Memories

The smell of this tea
so steamy it takes me
walking through childhood pastures.

It takes me down
down by the creek
the one back home in Indiana
the one that overflowed
from one pond into another.
Spearmint grew leafy and green
along the edges.

I used to go there, alone
watch the water flow
over smooth colored stones
breathe in the minty fragrance

shaded from the rest of the world.

I often go there in my mind
but I am still a child.
He should stay.
He is safe there.

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Saturday, April 12, 2008

Cool Spring Morning

Buzzards: big, chicken-bodied-like
ugly birds gather on the ground
around a dear carcass of brown
and white crumpled skin folding in
on a raw meat meal, picked at
by bloody, yellow beaks

over and again
on a cool Spring morning . . . .
driving to work

And I think
to myself how strange
it is that a bird soaring so high
could be so beautiful in the sky
, yet so ugly on the ground.

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Friday, April 04, 2008

New Content!

Ckeck out what's new at Promise of Light!


Angel Speak.

Mary's Hideaway.

Poem of a Soldier.

Windows to the Universe

And here's a few lines from myself:

Girl in the Hall

how lovely she is
with her long dark hair
and soft tan skin so beautiful
she laughs. I watch her
as she watches the people below
in the rotunda, laughs . . . .

and she walks away
never knowing of our encounter
of how much it meant
to me

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April 4, 1974

I’m thirty-four today. And I’m so much more than I’ve ever been before. I love so much more than I’ve ever loved before. And the pain, it surfaces when I’m alone, when there’s no one to hide it from. An antenna of emotion I am. Sometimes, filtering music or literature through the channel of my soul, I cannot hide it even when judgment is mere feet away. Perhaps it is my most valuable attribute: Empathy. I didn’t ask to be able to feel this much.

But I do.

“So I walk up on high
And I step to the edge
to see my world below.
And I laugh at myself
while the tears roll down.
'cause it's the world I have known.
Well it's the world I have known.” ~ Collective Soul

Those might not be the exact lyrics but there the ones in my head right now.

Love, James


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    "Let us remember . . . that in the end we go to poetry for one reason, so that we might more fully inhabit our lives and the world in which we live them, and that if we more fully inhabit these things, we might be less apt to destroy both." Christian Wiman, Editor of "POETRY" "Hang on to your hopes my friend; That's an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away, simply pretend that you can build them again." ~ Paul Simon

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