Here ... There

So inviting
is the Next;
the Beyond;
Ahead.

"Patience." whispers Now.

"Know the Present;

this Moment;

what Is."

John-Michael
30 November 2009 (now)

Original Image: Ivor Bond, BBC

Our Annual 'Over the Hedge' Visit ... Finale'

by Michael Fry and T Lewis






I pray your "finale'," to life's momentary Circumstance, be equally celebratory and whimsically silly. (I do so enjoy a good "silly!") [smile]

Loving You ...

Our Annual 'Over the Hedge' Visit

by Michael Fry and T Lewis

Sunday Afternoon

I invite You to join me in a moment of Sunday afternoon tranquility. From the Cottage ... across the highway, to the Lake.

Ahhh ... this is good!

We'll share the dock with the Bird as he dries his wings. [smile]

'The Woman I Am'

Though the words of Glen Allen, in this poem, are obviously gender-specific … experience has taught me that the life-dynamics, so beautifully articulated, are all-gender inclusive.

THE WOMAN I AM

The WOMAN I am
Hides deep in me
Beneath the woman
I seem to be.

She hides away
From the stranger’s eye –
She is not known
To the passers-by.

She goes her way
The woman I seem,
But the woman I am
Withdraws to dream!

The woman I seem
Goes carelessly –
When love goes by
Does not seem to see.

But the woman I am
Knows sudden fear …
And hides more deeply
When love draws near!

For love might look closely,
Perhaps … and see
Her, beneath the woman
I seem to be!

GLEN ALLEN

"The Human Touch" revisited

In this day of applied Programs, Plans, Initiatives, and Systems, there is a void that is all too often left wanting. That want is addressed by this work of Spencer Michael Free. He (from his perspective as a practicing physician) spoke to an elementary requirement of the Human Spirit. I ask that we consider the power and potential that awaits each of us… if we will but offer our own personal provision of “The Human Touch.”

The Human Touch

'Tis the human touch in this world that counts,

The touch of your hand and mine,

Which means far more to the fainting heart

Than shelter and bread and wine;

For shelter is gone when the night is o’er,

And bread lasts only for a day,

But the touch of the hand and the sound of the voice

Sing on in the soul alway.


Spencer Michael Free (1856-1938)
Free graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of the Johns Hopkins University in 1880, and practiced medicine and surgery for some fifty years thereafter. In addition to some one hundred medical papers, he wrote many poems.


IMAGE: Maria Brandstetter, BBC

Her Visitation

I meandered … purposeless; disjointed …
Completely aware; senses awake and functioning …
My pace knowing no dictates; heeding only fleeting impulse …
Free to stop, linger with any interest … or hurry past any suggestion.

Then, unbidden, came that tiny butterfly …
Light, delicate, unimposing, yet insistent …
Not resting on my smallest finger, but brushing it,
with powder-like softness …
She urged me along … in a direction, and at a pace, of her choosing.

Willingly, I fell in step with her chosen tempo …
Thoughtlessly, I joined in her unrevealed agenda …
Allowing her to free me of burdensome considerations …
I gladly joined her in a journey without definition.

Such is this visitation from my Darling from afar …
This is the joy of her effect on my Being …
And I celebrate, silently, and gratefully, her loving intervention …
Too wonderful, and precious, to be reduced to language.

John-Michael

01 November 2009
(Thank you, Silvia, for the book of poetic writings)