pop's poetry

Category: philosophy

  • triads

    I engage the sacred with new eyes and
being open to the ancient without looking,
a first trickle of pure, sustaining water
drips to the bottom of the dry well.
There is bliss under the oaks council and
in the rituals of the Mystics around me,
I find a space for spirituality to dance
on the well worn paths of my soul.
It will be on new paths outside the old
that peace comes like welcome rain
to wash the dust from years of neglect;
There is hope I can’t see in the darkness.

  • walking with lao tzu

    The path that is named is not the path
The way that is named is not the way

Yet walking it with a brother is sweet
And walking it with a sister is sacred
When walking it with a child it is joyous
And walking it with an elder is holy
The path that is named is not the path
The way that is named is not the way
But in the paradox there are many names

  • heart hopes

    Peace in the world
Love in every life
Health in mind and body
Food for hungry souls
Water for parched lives
Cures for ravaged bodies
Hope for the hopeless
Homes for the homeless
Rest for the weary
Laughter instead of tears
Open hands instead of closed fists
Gentle words instead of angry shouts
Passion
Purpose
Presence
You
Me
We

  • dark before dawn

    Sometimes,
When driving through the rough terrain,
Not thinking that the sun will ever disappear,
You come upon a tunnel.
Sometimes,
When walking through the beautiful hills,
Not expecting the bright day to turn dark,
A storm blots out the blue skies.
Sometimes,
While cozily reading in a warm glow,
Not anticipating the lamp will blink off,
An outage plunges light into darkness.
Remember,
There's a light at the end, forge ahead.
A rainbow will appear, keep looking up.
One small candle can dispell the dark.
Always, 
Be the light.

  • context

    it sits in the barren tree
open to the world and
makes you wonder
how you missed it
in the spring when
it was full of life
just beginning
or in the summer as
the constant trips
back and forth
back and forth
became just a blur
of existence until
the fall came when
all the teaching and
prodding of trial and
error produced the
anticipated results
of a job well done
and a life beginning
to be well led but
in the winter this
empty nest looks so
lonely and forlorn
to those without
context