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The Abandoned Boat.

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The Abandoned Boat   Upon the shore, a boat lies still, Its weathered hull a silent thrill. Who ventured forth, with oar in hand, To chase the waves or seek new land?   Did they cast nets  for silver fish, Or sail for joy, their heart’s own wish? Was it the sea’s embrace they  sought , Or fleeting dreams their journey brought?   Why left alone, this vessel old? What tale of loss is still untold? Did its master fade, by time undone, Or drift away ‘neath moon and sun?   No answers come, no voices speak, The tide’s soft hum is all we meet. Yet nature moves, with quiet grace, Reclaims the wood in slow embrace.   Through splintered boards, the grasses creep,  Wildflowers bloom where secrets sleep. Each root, each vine, a question weaves, Entwined with salt and scattered leaves.   What stories lie within its grain? Of storms endured, of joy, of  pain? The boat, now hers, the earths to keep, Whispers questions as I weep.   For th...
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Two Monks on a Journey   It is some time since I posted a blog. I had done so every day for a number of years and had many very encouraging comments made about how my blogs had helped.  I began to think it was time to return. Having done so I intend to change the format slightly. Some days I may include a painting . I may instead introduce the blog with a poem and say something about it.  Yesterday I was reading some of the old Chinese TalesI have always found very interesting. The one about the two monks was one that I used in sermons when I was a minister. Yesterday I composed a poem of the tale.  The Burden of the Mind.   Two monks, in silence, tread the way, Beneath the suns warm, golden ray. Under a tree they found cool shade, and rest, Their journey calm, their hearts at best. Then rain descended, fierce and fast, The path grew slick, the dry spell passed, A pool of mud blocked their advance, Where stood a girl, in tearful trance. ...
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The Tapestry of Love

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  The Tapestry of Love . They say opposites attract, a cosmic dance,   Two souls, poles apart, in fleeting glance.  One's fire, one's frost, yet sparks ignite,   A hidden flame that burns through night.    Is it shadows of parents, echoes of kin,   Grandparents’ laughter woven deep  within?    Or something quieter, a secret core,   A mirrored self we have not seen before.   Not beauty alone, though eyes may sway,   For time’s soft hand will steal it away.  Yet love, true love, sees beauty still,   In wrinkles deep, in heart’s own will.    A spark, a glow, no reason clear,   A pull that whispers, "You belong here."   In silence shared, in quirks that blend,   In opposites who become one friend.    It is not just form, nor fleeting youth,   But souls entwined in timeless truth.  A fullness blooms where love takes root,...
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