Softly and Tenderly

Softly and tenderly I hear your voice again,
And has it been so long and I so very wrong?
Slight enticements led me away day after day,
Until your face was but a shadowy memory,
And your choice voice but vaporous whisper;
But now how clear I hear your song over me!
Softly and tenderly I hear your voice again. . .

Advertisements

High Calling of the Artisan (Revised)

As muses conspire to inspire poets and artisans,
Wraiths gather around the gateway of the soul
To emasculate all creativity, to frustrate the pen
Or brush, opening up the floodgate of confusion
To fixate some poor soul on some senseless sight
Or sound ‘n none that’s worth a pound of manure
And all to secure his attention on anything at all
But the intention to create; and thus making him
Into a kind of artistic reprobate who then hates
What he’s not done because he’s taken the bait
Of unseen creatures who only satiate themselves
By stilling the mind and killing all true creativity;
But the good muses pay the price and still play
On numinous harps to sharpen the wit of artistry,
Praying he will dive into the sea of his own soul
And be what he was meant to be by taking hold
Of pen or brush to begin to bring into our reality
What was not before — lyrical poem to be read,
Song to be sung, picture to be admired and more
To heal the hearts of sore humanity in its insanity;
To bring peace to the fires of funeral pyres and
To send love from above around the round world;
To be an artisan fulfilling his most high calling!


Note: First published in September 2016, now slightly revised and republished for the enjoyment (and perhaps edification) of new reader-followers. Blessings to one and all!

Dance With Me This Day . . . And Forever

Dance the dance of life with me in all of its uncertainties,
Dance thru the woods and hills, homes and universities,
Prance like a fawn, whirl ‘n twirl to your heart’s delight
In the bright light of crisp winter morn, born of gladness,
And let sorrow go as you show off your glee in being free;
Oh dance with me! I in you and you in me in sweet liberty!
Turn away from funeral pyre and dance round living fire,
Which will not burn as you turn round and round in joy;
Songs are sung from the heavens, songs of your belonging
To me so freely given to you wholly and true in our unity!
Dance the dance of life with me in all of its uncertainties,
And be not sad; good has come to your door,
Not any bad, with so much in store and more!
So take my hand, come my way to dance with me this day!

Write: Song of an Artisan

Write
Write before the darkness comes
When no one can write for lack of light;
Fight with the sword of the pen
Without sin;
Against the corpulence of fraudulence,
Violence, and wicked opulence;
Fight with the might of words
To be heard round the world;
Write and fight
To appeal to the better part of the heart;
Preach the good news of love
And hope and peace — real possibility
That all wars might cease
If we but put out the fleece
Of light, life and truth
Apart from mere caprice;
Writers and poets, write;
Even by starlight in the night, write;
Artists paint and paint without taint
Of self-adulation and do not grow weary;
Do not faint along the way this day;
Musicians sound your symphonies
Skillfully, brilliantly with dignity . . .
Artisans join together in benignity
For peace on earth, goodwill toward all;
Oh yes, write however you write;
Write before the darkness comes
When no one can write for lack of light;
Fight with the sword of pen or brush,
With notes and quotes and floats,
With throats and coats and lifeboats;
Devote your talents to the gallant art
Of light and life, love and peace . . .
Write