The Maple Tree

Brother Levi Jacobs deals with death everyday. It is his business, but here he describes a different kind of passing.

The Maple Tree
My dreams died yesterday
when they cut the big maple tree down.
It was there memories were born
as a child in my tree house.
It was a place to hide when I hurt.
It was a place I called my own.
Friends spent the night with me there
on weekends so I wouldn’t be alone.
It was a safe place to play.
It wasn’t too high or too low.
I was a place to dream and scream.
I told the tree secrets only the leaves
would ever know.
I’d try to save the tree if I could,
but someone bought the property
and turned the tree into firewood.

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Ink in my Blood

Brother Christopher Benedict reflects upon his life as a journalist and his experiences good or bad…

Ink in my Blood

The ink is in my blood.
My life will always be stained.
Throughout all the glories,
I will remember, too, the pain.
The devotion goes beyond a job.
Some say it’s a career.
I take my words and camera
where others wouldn’t go near.
Give me an idea, a tip, a lead,
anything to get me started.
I won’t stop until the story
is typed, printed and parted.

The ink is in my blood.
My life will always be stained.
Throughout all the glories,
I will, too, remember the pain.
As the hours accumulate,
I get paid for a five—day week.
The new information is the key,
and deadlines are hard to beat.
Without energy from the Lord,
stories and photos are the same.
Without such inspiration,
stories are stale, and pictures plain.

The ink is in my blood
My life will always be stained.
While I think about the glory,
I always remember the pain.

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Stay Hungry

Brother C.J. Chatham summarizes his experiences in the stock market with not bears or such animals, nut rodents
Stay Hungry

The king rat has the biggest bite,
the fastest feet, and the most might.
The rest of the pack have the slowest feet,
small appetites and are weak.
They are often the meat for the
king so he can stay strong,
but his subjects are soon gone.
He constantly expands his kingdom
to avoid the threat of extinction,
and he is forever hungry for power.

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Giggles

Brother Brain Kohut remembers what it was like to laugh out loud like a child.

Giggles
Children’s laughter erupts in the background and
it is the sound of pure joy: unfiltered, unwritten,
spontaneous as the breeze and just as free.
The giggles break the silence, and remind me
of a strange person I used to be a long time ago.

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Her Red Purse

Brother Paul Abernathy talks about a recent purchase by his wife, which was important to her, and by default, him, too.
Her Red Purse
A miracle occurred unexpectedly,
She found and bought a new red purse,
a purchase that didn’t seem big to me.

It’s not a matter of things carried or concealed.
It’s the price, the style, the materials,
but mostly it’s a statement of how she feels.

Finding the proper article takes unlimited time.
It could be at any store and at any place.
The day it is found is when the stars get aligned.

I’m happy she doesn’t need to search anymore.
She has what she wants, at least for now, but
there are other items on a list she’s looking for.

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Indians

Brother Karl Dobson, a student of history and a journalist, reflects on one of his specialty topics he has researched.
Indians

Why were they called savages, who maimed and killed
while other countries and cultured people took their land.
They fought for their religion and their way of life which
lasted for thousand of years, and attacked to make their stand
Open wilderness without titles or deeds was claimed by people,
despite their nation of origin, who were just “white man.”

In the battles and wars that were fought, it was hard to tell
by the violence that occurred who was right and wrong.
Emotions on both sides were fueled with lies and guns,
and acts of vengeance carried through generations-long.
When the reservations on poor land for crops made them
lose hope, the system was threatened by Ghost songs.

Now there is this country, America, from sea to shining sea
where anyone, even the American Indians, are now “free.”

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The Final Frontier

Brother Christopher Benedict knows about family and the time be sometimes be alone.
The Final Frontier 

There isn’t much room in my space,
because it is filled with family and
people i know at work.
When I open the door to let
someone special in, the vacuum
is quickly filled, the final frontier
seems sealed
and i have no space left for me.
It becomes their space.
Then i make room for me
to breathe,
finally,
and I get my space back.

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Garden of Tranquility

Brother Rufus McDougal continues his flirting with his words and his experiences.This is inspired in part from his work to create an oriental garden for a friend.
Garden of Tranquility 

Take three steps of truth, love and
wisdom to the seat of peace.
Meditate on the water of life from
the fountain of harmony.
Then the parts of your world
will fall in their proper place.

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Cold, old friends

Brother Karl Dobson is showing his age when he talks about his age in this poem.  Maybe he wrote is a few years ago.
Cold, old friends 

Love has its price, and for it
To succeed takes sacrifice.
Friends say it’s a weak link.
Sometimes you can think.
When you don’t stay strong,
And troubles come along,
Then feelings start to fall
Until there is none at all.

My friends are wrong.
On those dark, long nights
I’ll have someone by my side.
I won’t be alone come daylight.
I know there will be a day
When they’ll believe what I say.
I’ll be happily in love when I’m old,
When their lives are getting cold.

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It’s the little things in life that count so much

Brother Levi Jacobs work tells a truth from his experiences, and we c an all learn from him.
It’s the little things in life that count so much 

It’s the little things in life that count so much.
They start out small, but soon they add up
to years spent with different people at different places.
A welcoming smile from a friend after a bad day stays
in your mind, and it can always be found when needed.
The taste of a special meal lingers miles away from the
location, and it never tastes the same served elsewhere.
The feel of a change of weather brings a tornado of
emotions that can never fade, regardless of experience.
Sounds of a train rides around the track in your mind,
and the texture of the sand on your toes wants you
to think you could live forever on the beach.
It’s the little things in life that count so much.

Do you have a start of a poem, but the words just aren’t right? Go for help at the Poetry First Aid.