The dawn's silent song lingered until noon,

but my morning star outshone the sun

at zenith; sheer brilliance, with pure gold strewn

as a flower of light upon my front lawn.

More lustrous than angels her innocent eyes

revealing both woman and child.

The sight of her glory evokes mystic sighs,

melts angst into joy, dries tears, moves smiles.

And who is this beauty, far sweeter than wine

and strawberries laced with chocolate?

From slumber emerging into her refined

reflection, I espy my soul mate.

Imagine the tenderest dream of bold youth's

hunger for home, a family's bond

of unity, and then, note well this truth --

at first sight I trembled, this dream unwound.

(January 18, 1984)

My darling holds my thoughts in every moment

a prisoner to sanctifying charms.

Beknownst to all the universe beyond sense,

truth tolls the bells of love in every heart.

Behold, the truth is my heart is afire,

set blazing like a galaxy of suns.

Within sheer bliss my everyness soars higher

than memories, for I'm alive in one.

The beauty that enthralls me has no equal.

No softer light shines forth from human soul.

Were all the earth beneath her halo, steeples,

as stars, would extol perfect harmony and hope.

(January 20, 1984)

Fatherly Advice

"No turning back on Love."

a sage priest counsels.

"Give all you have and are

to He Who watches

your every move

and breath.

Let Him create

the works you hunger

to inscribe and pass along."

"Let your senses escalate

to hear Him whisper

behind each word

you write,

and then elate,

rejoice and wonder,

being blessed to live in song."

(January 21, 1984)

Sing, Sing, Sing

Sing hosanna. Thrice again.

Sing with wind and birds on wing.

Sing with sun and lilies free.

Sing with mountains. Sing with trees.

Sing with rivers, lakes and oceans.

Sings with reverent devotion.

Sing with animals in forests.

Sing with the celestial chorus.

Sing with countryside and towns.

Sing with children. Sing with clowns.

Sing with babies nursed at sunset.

Sing with grandmothers. Don't forget.

Sing with young, in-between and old.

Sing of God's immortal hold.

Sing of Wisdom. Sing of Grace.

Sing forever. Keep your place.

Sing with creation. Don't e'er stop

singing of peace and joy; God's lot

of happiness for those who sing.

Keep all hearts young. Let Love's voice ring.

(January 23, 1984)

Hosanna in the Highest

'Tis not the agony that enters us,

but the grace attained by Christ's grief.

Though His pain we are incapable of,

His sacrifice provides our peace.

'Tis not the wounds so raw and deep

that cut our souls to the quick,

but the merit of our Savior's free

unending love... God's greatest gift.

'Tis by Christ's Body and Precious Blood

our unworthy hearts come to life,

as only His offering unchains us

from fear, darkness, doubt and lies.

So praise we owe and full gratitude

for the infinite Way, Life and Truth.

(February 6, 1984)

Staying On

Pray and write of what is spoken

in the silence of devotion

to your Guardian Angel, friend,

and brother.

Pray love never ends,

that is, that from it you won't turn

no matter what befalls you.

Learn,

as wise men gone before, to listen

in quietude beyond your vision.

Herein, where peace in Truth abounds,

your soul and Source are sweetly found.

So hold Love's reins for all you're worth.

Let go for none. Renew your birth

into the Church of the Divine Son

with every breath. In Love stay young.

(February 7, 1984)

From Why to How

Why, when the solace of love continues

in the Heart of God beyond all we do;

why, when our hope we daily renew

at the altar rail aside saints and Truth;

why, when the Virgin Mary aids all who

invoke her sweet name (this song, my proof),

do we fail to respond to what's good?

Without God all destinies are doomed.

So, when the silence of love embraces

your most hidden thoughts, your private places;

so, when the joy found in smiling faces

sets your heart to soar like geese at Fall races;

so, when Immaculate Mary chases

your soul with her own, let go all traces

of doubt, fear and past hard-luck cases.

Within God your fate is His patience.

(February 8, 1984 St. Jerome Emiliani)

the voice of these words commences,

" All glory to God, our Father and pinion

of mercy and grace, for sense ... "

A Pondering

Full circle do we run in search of peace,

never to find it, lest upon our knees

we fight for love in the royal family

of God's blessed children, firm in dignity.

No one can comprehend the grace that calls

a soul to purse Wisdom through the halls

of history and learn why we rise and fall,

but the journey is the destiny of all.

This pilgrimage begun in space and time

crescendos in feats, stalls in poor rhymes,

yet through it all, assisted by sublime

and invisible friends, we grow divine.

That is, when we respond to God's caress

without question, accepting the quest

eternity extends to those tuned to death,

His breath becomes our breath.

So as it was, and is, and e'er will be,

the course of peace springs forth from fluency;

a heartfelt river of wonder, constancy,

the Source of our beginning and every need.

(February 10, 1984)

Ah! Always

How beautiful hope!

How precious beatific dreams!

How wondrous to grow!

How sacred our reason for being!

To glorify our saving Lord,

His Father, Spirit and holy Word.

Let praise ring out throughout the world,

"Christ is King. Let Him be heard."

How confident our faith!

How pleasant days shared believing!

How calming God's embrace!

How holy reposed in His bleeding...

Penitential Flight

From a branch self-severed in ignorance

sprang a contrite soul, repentant

of the wounds inflicted by his sins

on the tender flesh of sweet Jesus.

'Neath a star heaven-sent into his mind,

grace inured his heart to Mary's,

so from grave, regrafted to the vine

by a Lady's hand, he became hers.

Thirsty wisdom, alike a desert slave

to his Queen's requests attendant,

at her side he learned to meditate

on her Child's compassion for man.

Clinging to God's Mother, lost and poor

nor restrained by sin any more,

he dared enter her heart's chambers

to Love's promptings, gazed upon stars...

... skyways of angels and saints on a vine

of bejeweled fruits and glycerin

stems, a light greater than light.

The Heart of Christ dwelled therein.

From sin's grave to Savior in Mary's care.

This song of salvation occurs everywhere.

Blood Kin

What manner shape or form art holy angels,

those beings sublimer than purest thoughts,

who guard against opposing legions so well,

without our witness, keeping to themselves

(or so it seems to us); our spirits held taught

in bodies unable to freely soar

about the universe? What are these angels

but guides invisible, strong, silent and more

than we can imagine, servants of our Lord

and tender Lady, brothers in their love.

(February 13, 1984)

Esthetic Desire

" Sunshine on the waters makes me happy.

Sunshine in your eyes can make me smile."

How I love the beauty of a woman

born to smile in good times and in bad.

Such are found in homes where religion

is taught, and faith lives in kindly acts.

How I search for noble hearts in children

(Are we all?), that truth may be revealed

through sharing time in gentle reflections

of Love unearthed, unwound, unsealed.

How I long the words beyond our feelings,

where angels dwell and rejoice and praise

the Wise Creator, Love, in love seeing

every soul as God's immortal rays.

May every soul alive so too aspire

the love of Love's e'er captivating fire.

(July 9, 1984 IHM to Dallas)

Charlie's Place

So innocent and fair of heart

the children of this populace.

How refreshing to be a part

of simple home-loving friends.

Country girls, all young and fragile,

relaxed in wholesome attitudes,

radiate virtue without effort,

smile for all without distinction.

No false eyes or superior air,

just honest hearts abiding here.

Good people at ease, self-composed

midst Arkansas' lakes, hills and glens.

(July 20, 1984 Springdale, AR a.m.ing again)

Feather-tipped Arrow

Straight to the heart of every matter,

the Son of God spoke directly.

All those obedient to Him, rather

than follow ill, share His full peace.

Uphill Climbing

So little time. So much to do.

So feeble our generous attitudes.

So deep our hurts, desires and needs.

So few true hearts to sow Love's seeds.

So dry most minds, blind to their souls.

So arduous the climb alone. So cold

to bear the loss of all held dear

in silent noblesse oblige.

Reared

to sacrifice and avoid pleasure,

solitude tries me, pain measures

my commitment to high ideals,

angelically secured, made real

in suffering that others learn

by Christ's Blood life is earned .

So difficult (Thanks be to God.)

this age and test, yet may Love's rod

not spare me. Nay, may I be taught

more firmly what our lives have cost.

So little time. So much to do.

Upon the Cross may I stay true.

(Chutney's post Fayetteville)

On Top of Things

Out of the wine and cheese environs,

into the fire of passing fancies.

What better place to write

than among spirited people

congregating, sighing, trying

to compose love songs,

but starting and ending each bar with tears,

not of tenderness crying,

but of Emptiness' omnipresence.

So where are the saints?

Dancing in celebration?

Letting their hair down?

Nothing surfaces but the subterranean

impulses of tired minds

daring to sojourn alone,

yet the saints and angels are present,

never outdone by the futile foe of peace,

and in spite of the scenery

and timid intentions

all are protected,

invisibly encouraged to attend

to the joy uncamoflaged,

unbeguiling companions

and enduring prayer.

Simplicity

No design other than to be true

to all I've learned

at the hands of the holy angels.

No ambition other than to follow

the voice of Love

revealed in quiet repose.

No desire other than to open

my heart to Grace

more fully with each new day.

No song except constant care

for every soul

throughout my life, everywhere.

(July 21, 1984)

Starlit Madonna

How lightly you move,

almost effortlessly,

one moment here,

the next swiftly gone,

not away, just onward... gliding

more swiftly than a gazelle,

more quietly than an angel,

more breathtakingly than sunrise.


How graceful you are,

like the unseen wind,

stirring esthetic hearts

to recognize

sheer loveliness... exceptional,

unbounded, and wondrous.

You exude beauty, dear heart.

Take me into your mystic aura

that I might sing, "Extraordinaire!"

as you perfume the air

with exquisite light

and abstracts become touchable.

Prayer for a Maiden Fair

How beautiful and painful to see you

shining as a star among the shadows;

about you tired minds and feeble hearts,

afraid to walk or talk without a shot

of courage from vodka, whiskey or wine,

and you, handmaid to their sad appetites

How refreshing and tragic to see you

climbing for the stars mid thieves and villains,

who treasure not, nor know your purity

and what it means to God. O, innocence!

'Neath angel wings of Love invincible,

may you be kept e'er chaste, in Love fulfilled.

(August 2, 1984 Our Lady of the Angels)

Tuesday Night In Rogers

There's beauty and great sorrow

in my brothers and sisters aching

for what they know not --

someone to come and rescue them

from themselves, the world,

sad and lonely nights, empty days.

Beauty lies in their human hearts,

and yet, hidden in reveries unshared

and sensitivities unexplored

(Who bears the journey alone?),

sadness pervades their surroundings.

A bar's no place for tenderness.

(August 15, 1984)

There's But One Song

Why sing a seasonal song

when true love lives forever?

Morning comes, love birds throng,

and folks who pray stay together.

So why sing for just a time?

Aren't we meant to share

the best of ourselves in rhyme;

our hearts bound to care

for one another more than time?

Sing the song of Infinity

with all you are, and want and find

completeness serving human need.

Pursue the song intended for all souls,

"Love."

Heed its blithe melody. Glow.

For One Called More Than Darling

There's always more than meets the eye

for souls alert to what's inside.

Inside your eyes the ocean's green

and abundant charms, the reason

people fall in love and reach out,

what creativity is all about --

bringing to fruition deep-set dreams

so all might smile, sigh and beam

the radiance of knowing full-well

we were made to forever dwell

in Love.

Halo of Mary

Beneath the veil of Mary's hallowéd estate,

men clamor to become children of light,

women cling to deep emotions,

while elsewhere,

void of true devotion,

chaos abounds; the scourge of violent

rebellion unto God. Woe to the dead.

Replete (O, wondrous Heart Immaculate!)

with grace streaming nonstop, beneath

thy tent of lyrical rapport

dwells the notion

of Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

O, most chosen one, all God's offspring

seek of Love glistens in your treasured light.

Your soul's radiance, warmth and tenderness

so pure, Love's melodies, thy confidence

steadfastly secure earth, wind, fire, oceans

to the luminescence of devotion,

the truth Christ, born in little Bethlehem,

suffered and died for the least of men.

Beneath thy sheer illustrious attitude,

most Holy Mother, all is clear and good.

(February 26, 1992)

Praying Home

Pure light precedes white angels coming

to allelujah cares away.

I feel their might. This tune I'm humming

evaporates the pain of days

spent wondering aloud.

"God help me journey through this night in peace."

O, holy Lord, my torn heart tells me

to pray and trust no one but Thee.

(February 27, 1992)

Bending Low

Yes, I have the answer

to this present deep-set wound.

Place my pain in Your incision

and return to where I'm bound

through the Sanctus of the angels

and the silence of the saints,

knowing nothing ever moves You

like a contrite penitent.

So I cry out, "Agnus Dei,

scourge me here upon the earth,

that I might sing `Soli Deo'

with a spirit true." Rebirth

is what I seek each moment,

and too, what I hunger for,

like a child with only one sense --

to enter Thy kingdom poor.

Yes, I have the answer

to every trial, desire and need.

Bow before Your might and majesty

in emptiness... and plead.

Burning Through the Mist of Time

Three fires of incense repeal throughout the night

of our cold separation from the Father Almighty.

One burns in praise like our brothers of light.

This blaze stays the forces clouding man's sight.

Another turns to God in thanksgiving; the right

cause to pursue always, for our breath is His delight,

as we restlessly chase our Lover of constant eye

with prayers of gratitude and loyalty.

The last flames are our legacy. They quiet

souls destined homeward to the Father Almighty.

In this pyre we feel the Agony of Christ's

Passion and Cross. In this fire we die.

Three fires of incense.

Three rainbows of answer to Love.

In praise and adoration,

thanksgiving and petition,

sacrifice and expiation,

we return.

from a place mortals can't see.

Angels enter without sound

to alert mankind, "Believe...

(We are but God's messengers.)

... in the Author of all life."

(February 29, 1992)

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