We've All Been There

(Accepted in "In a Nutshell" - Longleaf School of the Arts Magazine, Spring 2021, Vol 5, p. 9)

We've all been there,

Where the future ain’t bright,

Where all you see is haze and fog,

Blinding your eyes to the point of despair.

But sometimes we need to see the fog

In order to see the clear.

When the future ain’t full of color,

Where all you see is grey and black,

Learn to push on and find a way,

Fill your eyes with determination and fight back.

Because sometimes we need to push through the fog

In order to see the clear.

When the future ain’t full,

Where all you see is emptiness and isolation,

Learn to find someone to support you,

Open your mouth to someone you trust and pour it out,

And listen to what they say.

Because we need a little help over the fog,

In order to see the clear.

We’ve been there also

When we see people living where it ain’t bright,

Where all they see is haze and fog,

Blinding their eyes with despair.

But we need to make a path

To those in haze.

When we see someone in a colorless world,

When we see someone living in black and grey,

Learn to shine light to show them the way,

Learn to use your light to help others see through the dull.

Because we need to shine on others,

In order for them to see colors.

When we see someone in the empty world,

When we see someone living in emptiness and isolation,

Learn to be their supporter,

Open your ears to hear their rants,

And open your mouth to give love.

Because we need to help others over the fog

In order for them to see the clear.

We’ve all been there,

Where the future ain’t bright,

Where all you see is haze and fog,

Blinding you to despair.

Learn to see through the fog,

And lead light to those in haze.

For we’ve all been there,

Where the future ain’t bright

And all you see is haze and fog...

Start a light and be a light!

Beulah Land

(Accepted in "In a Nutshell" in Longleaf School of the Arts Magazine, Spring 2022, Vol 6)

I have other hobbies too!

My main passion is art!

Years ago, down in memory lane,

A bubbling brook sang beside a hundred-year-old farmhouse,

A blue and white painted cement path to look like bricks

Lead to its entrance of tranquility and innocence,

Stars twinkle above the house, blessing it will their glow,

And Grandmother Lee Ann herself...

The sweet woman that treated me like her own granddaughter.

The house was small and cozy, packed with dogs

Who licked me with their wet tongues,

While the cats lazed about staring at me with their green eyes.

The guest room had exquisite artwork hung on the walls,

Marbled with color and detail,

With a bed covered in an antique, colorful patchwork quilt,

The sun’s golden rays, glowing through the crystal glass

And the moon lighting the room bright as a pearl.

The backyard was opened by a fence,

Where the bubbling brook sang peaceful melodies,

And flowers budded their delicate baby-soft petals

To welcome your presence.

A swing with an old rope hooked itself around an old tree.

There, I flew with no fear of the world

Before jumping off to feel the cool brook’s waters at my fingertips.

In the evening, the old stove warmed the ancient farmhouse

And filled with delicious smells that squealed at your nose,

The kale and bacon dish was my favorite,

The contrast of porky juices melding with greenness,

Raspberry water too, unmistakable tinted pink,

With clusters of rubies slid from a crinkled hand to a jug of water,

Tasting of cupid’s arrows,

Finally, golden dices of peaches in creamy scoops of pale yellow,

Churned with ice and everything nice.

And when all the farm goes quiet,

The mattress is soft, seducing you into its embrace,

The pillows kissing your cheek goodnight,

You fall asleep like a newborn,

With your worries emptied out for now,

You will remember this hundred-year farmhouse in Boone, Beulah Land!