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THOUGHTS OF SPRING
I sat upon a park bench, writing pad in hand,
Enjoying flowering shrubs and warmth upon the land
As cacophony of sound assaults both my ears:
Birds singing, dogs barking, and children’s laughter at play.
Then, not one but three lasses appeared
With bonnets and flower baskets at arm.
They wore floral-colored smocks,
Emitting Old World charm.
“I see you are a writer, sir,” one said
As her laughter broke the air.
At a loss for words, I simply smiled,
Caught up in her blue-eyed snare.
“Please do write us a sonnet,” said the second lass.
“Oh, no, a poem,” pleaded the third.
I smiled at all three,
Completely lost for word.
Their little faces in mock pout,
Their dresses so colorful and gay,
Added the finishing touch on the canvas
Of this beautiful, fine Spring Day.
I cleared my throat and spoke, “Oh, I suppose,
A line or two I’ll jot of spring-time prose.
With a smile and a thank you, they skipped away, arms interlocked.
As they moved away, I couldn’t help but notice: The flowers matched their frocks.
The sun was warm, and the wind was balmy.
White fluffy clouds adorned the sky.
I stretched and yawned like a Cheshire cat,
Releasing a contented sigh.
Mother Nature had once again blessed the land,
Calling forth different flowers in abundant array.
While I watched butterflies and birds flit about
On this gorgeous, balmy Spring Day.
Spring tulips
Spring has sprung!
Daddy and Momma Mallard with 10 new ducklings
Daddy and Momma Canadian Geese with 2 new goslings
Double Bearded Iris
He Lives!
He walked among us over rocky pathways
Many long years ago.
The message He brought was the one He taught
To free us and let us know.
Numbered among transgressors,
Beaten and scorned with shame.
He shouldered false accusations bravely
And never placed the blame.
Not happy with His suffering,
They sentenced Him to death.
They nailed Him to a cross
To draw His last earthly breath.
He was buried in a sepulcher
Which was hewn in stone.
Women prepared His body for eternal rest
And left Him all alone.
Just as the prophecy had foretold,
The stone was rolled aside:
Three days later, our Savior arose
To ascend and forever to abide.
The ultimate sacrifice for our sins –
A price we could not pay –
Was paid in full by our Savior.
Each year, we celebrate this act on each Easter Day.
Happy Easter, Everyone!
W. Foster Welborn
Wouldn’t You Know It?
Beautiful roses, rough soil can endure…
The sweetest most often
Live and grow in debris and manure.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Old Warrior
Born of the people,
Learning to live off the land.
As a boy, he learned a warrior’s ways
And grew to be a man.
Strong Bow hunted Tatanka, the buffalo,
With both bow and lance.
He guided his horse among the headlong rush,
Killing meat to feed the people when he got a chance.
He had wooed and won a pretty maiden’s hand,
Who became his wife.
They lived and loved while moving freely on the land,
Following a nomad’s life.
He danced with fellow warriors,
Circling the fire around.
War drums beat the rhythm,
And many moccasined feet beat tattoos on the ground.
That was when he was young and powerful,
A mighty warrior to behold.
He was fast and furious back then, many moons ago.
Now he was gray and old.
Strong Bow sat on his aging war horse atop a hill.
His shoulders slumped forward with his head hung down.
Cold winds blew around him,
Making the only sound.
The old warrior’s face smiled lamely.
It was a good day to die,
And soon his spirit would depart,
Taking wings to fly.
Cold wind knifed through his buckskins
Into his old body both weak and frail.
Strong Bow closed his eyes and softly sang his death song,
Having reached the end of his trail.
(Note: The above poem is a result of my thoughts that were evoked by this artwork.)
Reflections
There are so many, I know not where to start.
As I sit quietly and reflect,
My wondering thoughts and memories to collect,
Memories stir in my consciousness which awaken my heart.
Foolish words and deeds,
Poor choices made in youth without reason,
Like layers of paint on the wall
Add up, season after season.
Young and crazy, detached and aloof,
Speaking lies, innuendo, trash without proof.
Age brings wisdom.
Reflection brings enlightenment.
Rake not among old bones, searching for the truth.
If you receive a blessing, give thanks with your mouth.
It matters not where you are from…north, east, west, or south.
Blessings are not always recognized as such in the beginning.
Smile, and never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Sometimes, we do the right things for the wrong reason.
Sometimes, we do the wrong things for the wrong reason.
Try to do the right things for the right reason.
The end result will be so much more satisfying and pleasing.
Mistakes are the building blocks of experience it seems.
When we try to achieve a thing, sometimes we make mistakes.
Learning from our errors enables us to overcome,
Allowing us to move forward, fulfilling our hopes and dreams.
When done right, we live to age and grow old.
Aging is not for the faint of heart, at least so I’m told.
A heavy conscience of wrong choices builds memories to prick the soul.
Good memories and experiences are more precious than finest gold.
Slow Progress – Trying
Yin and Yang
How far up before down,
Funny person but not a clown.
Where is half-way or middle?
When does a violin become a fiddle?
Energy forces flow in together, then separate,
Moving slowly, then accelerate.
Young then old, cold then hot,
Push or pull, is or is not.
Glass half empty or half full?
It’s a toy, or is it a tool?
Flamboyant and open, then indiscreet,
Hard then soft, sour then sweet.
Life, birth, death cycles careen,
Inward then outward, but not in between.
Swirling and blending as they enter,
Trying to blend, striving to center.
Life’s energy forces turn and blend,
Like tides going out or coming in.
Focusing and searching for tranquillity
So balance will descend.
Bells will ring if they’re rang.
You’ve conquered Lao Tzu’s Tao, which is Yin and Yang,
Turmoil fades like a dying wind.
Calmness now becomes your friend.
Namaste.*
*The highest and best in me salutes the highest and best in you.
Note: In Chinese philosophy, yin and yang (also, yin-yang or yin yang) describes how apparently opposite or contrary forces are actually complementary, interconnected, and interdependent in the natural world, and how they give rise to each other as they interrelate to one another. Yin and yang can be thought of as complementary (rather than opposing) forces that interact to form a dynamic system in which the whole is greater than the assembled parts. Everything has both yin and yang aspects, which some call polarity.
wfosterwelborn 