Continuation of journal 2
We’re continuing through the journals, and attempting to be organized. Breaking the project down into smaller sections. And giving each section a name and number.
Prayer
I like to dig gardens,
vegetables and flowers.
I like to work in the yard.
To work on the tree and bushes.
It feels good to work so hard.
I like to read new things,
and learn from conversation,
to hear music on the radio.
I change from station to station.
I like a long talk,
and a long walk,
with someone I call a friend.
And walking down by the river
is a worthwhile moment to spend.
The joy of quiet moments.
Sitting by a fire warm.
And sending thankful sentiments yon.
I’m happy, and saved from harm.
And getting down on my knees to pray,
to bring warm comfort down.
Before God, for hours, if need be.
This too, a pleasure I’ve found.
Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years,
with family together once more.
A feast prepared, on the table inside,
with lights, and a wreath on a door.
The mountains, the oceans, and the rivers I visit,
the chapel upon the hill.
Yes, these are all life to me,
and yet I desire still.
The glory of beauty so stirs me within,
as a work of creation’s love.
Within woman’s beauty profound,
the work of our Lord above.
Still beckoning yet, a distant voice,
a brighter and bluer flame.
And hearing deep within my soul,
a voice there calling my name.
This passioned illusion I’m beckoned to follow,
and holiness now my desire.
To walk the footpath of sainthood,
and faith be my light and my fire.
The gardens, forests, rivers and mountains,
loved ones and walks by the sea,
through sorrow and celebration, dear Lord,
a holy man please let me be.
Yes, through the changing seasons,
spring summer, winter, fall,
Let me follow the brightest flame,
and heed, dear Lord, your call.
let me follow this distant star,
and heed, dear Lord, your call.
A New Life Blessed and Home Begun.
This poem spilled out of my pen after making love with Patty. 1995. I really didn’t want to be intimate with her. But desires overpowered me. She’d been very ill, and I found myself as her caretaker after she came home from the hospital. I accepted her as a friend, but it seemed the community expected me to marry her. It never could have worked.
I received a strong leading that I was not to continue in intimacy. And this leading I obeyed.
But this is a beautiful poem. However it was not prophetic over my life. But it may be prophetic to someone who reads it. Let me put it out there. Perhaps someone will relate to it.
Yielding to the call of love.
The fabric of our life is wove.
Obey the voice, it’s from above.
On my way to you.
Take time to anoint your head.
Then be Bible pages read.
Hot soup, warm bread, the table spread.
It’s time to start anew.
Anew home blessed, and life begun.
Gentle breeze and gentle sun.
A journey toward my only one.
Try not to over do.
Break the bread and pass the wine.
I’ll be yours, and you’ll be mine.
I know we’ll be just fine.
Our time to wait is through.
I now know I’ve heard your call.
The vine is ripe, brown corn stands tall.
Now’s the time, and that is all.
A vision in clear view.
Crystal vision, guide the way.
The voice of destiny’s at play.
Walking toward the brand new day.
We pray this call be true.
Today, again, I need you here.
And pray to keep you always near.
Live the promise, banish fear.
And may the skies be blue.
I see now that I need your love.
The plan of life from God above.
Spirit Great, and gentle dove.
I ask you, say “I do”.
I see now that I need your love.
The plan of life from God above.
Spirit Great, my gentle dove.
I ask you, say “I do.
Deer Hunting From Blind
This is from the first year I hunted. I didn’t have a vehicle on the road. I took the bus down to a small town on the southern tier. My aunt picked me up at the bus stop, and let me sleep in her guest room. I borrowed a shotgun, and bummed a ride up to Billy’s land. Here Billy had blind set up. Hunting was a dream come true. I did not harvest a deer that year, but I saw deer, and got a shot at one. It was exhilarating, and I resolved that I would become a hunter.
Cousin Billy dropped me off
at the edge of the road.
He said “good luck”,
as I closed the car door.
I loaded my shotgun,
as I walked out into the field.
Billy had built a blind of hay bales.
a perfect wind break,
and cover from the whitetails wary senses.
I’d brought a cushion to sit on.
And a thermos of hot tea,
to fight off the cold.
“I know what I’m doing”,
I thought to myself.
“I can handle a gun”.
For hours I sat scanning
the edge of the woods.
Praying to Yahweh,
Looking for movement in brown. (Billy has a business deal he wants me to consider.)
I poured a cup of hot tea.
And as I began to sip,
a flock of turkeys
came parading by.
I sipped in silence.
Until they disappeared
into the woods.
A flock of doves landed nearby.
Ducks flew overhead.
Squirrels rustled leaves,
and another flock of turkeys
came marching by.
I’d been sitting in the cold
for hours now.
Wiggling my toes to keep them from freezing.
(I had five pairs of socks on.)
I was expected back in town soon.
It was almost time to leave.
Now I’d caught myself in a daydream.
I was totally lost in a nursery rhyme.
And looking up,
there was a small herd of deer before me.
They were quite far away.
About ninety yards.
I lowered my sight on one large one,
and fired.
The deer flinched,
and went limping toward cover,
while the others
bounded into the woods.
I fired again, the second bullet
a clear miss.
A puff of snow
where the slug hit.
“I’ve wounded the animal”, I thought.
and there went looking
for blood or hair in the snow.
I could find no sign of injury.
It was getting late,
It was past time to leave.
I was expected back,
hours ago.
I’m back home now.
As I sit here in my apartment,
there is a great snowstorm upon us.
The hunt is still fresh in my mind.
Candles are lit. Incense is burning.
My thirst for adventure,
for the quest,
has been ignited again.
Oh God of the Deer Hunt,
please bring me successes.
I can scarcely wait until next year!
