Monthly Archives: March 2014
Last Call
Posted by wfosterwelborn
This is from Autumn Leaves:
It’s already been said and written,
But a few more lines I’ll dare
The warning to sound,
The bell to ring
For he who still has to care.
Find truth and understanding,
Love that knows no bounds,
Make straight His path,
Accept His cross —
Before the trumpet sounds.
Posted in Poetry
Tags: autumn leaves, Love, metaphysics, New Age, New Thought, poem, Poetry, straight, Thoughts, trumpet, Truth, Understanding, wisdom
Pisces
Posted by wfosterwelborn
This comes from Autumn Leaves:
Pisces people grab a shooting star
And hold on tight,
Living, working, playing, and loving
With all their might.
On fire with exuberance of love and life,
And, like the salmon
On their upstream struggle,
They live, spawn, and die.
Posted in Poetry
Tags: autumn leaves, exuberance, Fire, Life, Love, metaphysics, New Age, New Thought, Pisces, play, poem, Poetry, shooting star, Thoughts, Truth, Understanding, wisdom
Ghost Town
Posted by wfosterwelborn
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
They deserted the old town.
He understood why.
He watched them leave
With watery, jaundiced eye.
They had suffered and struggled,
On the hungry side of hope.
When the gold wasn’t found,
They sort of run out of rope.
A stubborn streak in him
Rose up to the fore.
He knew he’d stay behind
And try once more.
The rest had departed,
Long since gone,
And now he was left to his fate,
Up here all alone —
Alone with his fear and hope,
Left to follow his dream.
Searching for yellow gold,
Instant get-rich scheme.
Gold for his yellow-haired sweetheart,
Sweet Josie DuPree.
Gold to fulfill their dreams,
Turn them into reality.
On the edge of starvation
Gave much food for thought.
He’s search and surely find
What the others had sought.
The wind moaned an eerie song
Among broken rock and barren stone.
Rugged cliffs rose toward the skies,
Awesome beauty straining his eyes.
The wind among towering peaks
Blue cold and strong.
Blue skies turned dull grey.
He knew it wouldn’t be long
Before you could see each
Exhaled, frosty breath,
Where slight mistakes in judgment
Could bring instant death.
He’d handled it before,
And he’d handle it again.
Once he struck it rich,
Why he’d throw caution to the wind.
He’d scoff at the quitters
While he ordered up good gin,
After all he counted himself
A man among men.
Slogging through old snowdrifts
And sleet mixed with rain,
He worked the rock daily,
Muscles aching in pain.
Digging and searching,
Each day anew,
While breaking rock and shoveling
Endless rhythm, working his chew.
He cussed his own stubbornness,
Then cussed the mine.
He cussed at the mountains,
And the gold he couldn’t find.
No one ever saw him,
Yet swore he never came down.
They say he’s still up there,
Digging and poking around —
Among blown-down, weathered beams,
Strewn over frozen ground,
Searching for yellow gold
Where wind makes a weird sound.
They say, if you’ll listen carefully
When the wind is just right,
You can hear his hammer ring out,
Striking rock day and night.
If you’re ever up there,
Just knocking around,
You’ll feel a chill or hear
Strange, eerie sounds.
Remember,
You’re not alone
In the old Ghost Town
Posted in Poetry
Tags: autumn leaves, Beauty, death, eerie, ghost town, gold, metaphysics, New Age, New Thought, poem, Poetry, rich, Sweet Josie DuPree., Thoughts, Truth, Understanding, yellow gold
Decay
Posted by wfosterwelborn
This thought comes from Autumn Leaves:
Outstanding is simply good, yet no one’s upset or mad.
Good is mediocre, and mediocre is simply bad.
High aspirations, in reality, are goals set low —
Meaningless once achieved, and so the story goes.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags: achieved, aspirations, autumn leaves, bad, goals, good, Life, meaningless, mediocre, metaphysics, New Age, New Thought, Outstanding, Thoughts, Truth, Understanding, wisdom
The Eagle Cried
Posted by wfosterwelborn
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Mighty symbol of our country,
Against clear-blue skies,
I looked and beheld
Tears in his eyes.
“How did this happen?”
Asked I in dismay —
For Old Glory still waves
From the flagstaff this day.
I struggled to look through
His lofty point of view,
To see what he saw
From his high realm of blue.
Huge tracts of farmland,
Deserted by man —
Farmers of the soil
Being pushed off their land.
Pleasure-seeking people,
All searching in vain,
Rich and the famous,
Fleeting moments of fame.
Unnoticed people,
Eyes staring in defeat,
Ignored by society,
Sleeping in the street.
Pollution and turmoil,
Boundless in array,
People turning blind eyes,
Living for the day.
High-rise buildings,
Boredom and despair,
Decaying old cities,
Streets needing repair.
A God-fearing people,
Many gone astray.
Old-fashioned virtues
No longer hold sway.
Turning away in sorrow,
I shrugged, then sighed,
For it was so plain to see
Why our eagle had cried.