old black Jonas ( a tribute to my sweet friend Mr. Anderson)

abundance alcohol berries berry

old black Jonas made elderberry wine

i use to love to drink it,  pass away my time

he would play his mouth harp in the old junkyard

and we’d sing under the moon swinging on the stars


one hundred years old Jonas thought he was

there was not record of his  birth written down by the man

so he took the name of the master who owned him

said “a name only matters to those who don’t have ’em. “


i love old black Jonas to this day

still hear his laughter, sing his song everyday

i don’t really get that high anymore

old Jonas come back, let’s drink your wine once more



Holy Breath

I suddenly wake and I can’t see anything
I start throwing my fear around
I open the window and look for the sun
and for signs of the spring…

Then I can breathe
I can feel each Holy breath…
Then I hear my babies laughing
and smell roses in the air
Deep inside a sweet voice whispers
What have you to fear?
and then I can breathe
I can feel each Holy breath…
At night I gaze up into the heavens
and someone calls my name
I laugh at the man in the moon
and peace comforts me again…
and then I can breathe
I can feel each Holy breath…

Verbal Skills…

alphabet boogle dice enjoy
It is well know that it is hard for me to swallow words because I believe when we do it makes nothing but trouble. I want to talk before I die. I want to say things to those I love. I want to say things to my fellow human beings. I know you all will go on talking when I am gone from this earth and that is how things are supposed to be…yet, I can think of a thousand things I could share with my children and grandchildren and whether it matters much what I say in the long run I still want to. I could pour love into their hearts for ions…I want that.
Even an argument is the dialogue of life. To disagree, to not understand, to try with all your might to get it right, to have understanding… these are verbal skills too. I want that.
On the other hand so much can be “Said” without words. A hug, a cup of coffee, or just sitting in silence and stillness but I feel these actions speak volumes. These are verbal skills as well. In the presence of peace or strife there must be a “knowing”…a connection. I want that.
Last but not least there is the written word. For me, this is the ultimate verbal skill. This verbal skill fits me and gives me joy. I want to paint a picture with words on paper. To make a record of things that are not easy to forget. I want that.
One writer said, “It is so much easier, to learn to love what you have instead of yearning always for what you’re missing. It is so much more peaceful.” She has good verbal skills. I want that.


Where humble people go to pray…

abandoned architecture barn bricks

I just want to be there where humble people go to pray

 where all the heavenly host are listening

where nobody cares what you look like or what you “do”

where the people are authentic and adore their Redeemer

where The High Priest,  King Jesus records our praise in His book of Remembrance

where The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost preside in a simple cathedral

In the place where  gentle Saints go to pray…


Axe to the Tree

cut a tree fell a tree ax axe


when Life is not always

a merry Tale

or Thunder makes war

from east to west…


when Day leads to a

a comfortless Night

or Evil and Danger bring

your Soul to unrest…


put an Axe to the Tree

of all things hidden

keep your Sword always drawn

and sharpened..


let the Fair and the Fresh

be your Dream

never forget the High King

of heaven…