Author: Don Iannone, D.Div., Ph.D.

Biography Writer, photographer, poet, and teacher. Holds doctorates in Divinity and Metaphysical Philosophy. Author of 20 books, including seven poetry books, nine photography, and four nonfiction books. Contact Information Contact Don Iannone by email: diannone@gmail.com

Sacred Cows and Sacrificial Lambs

Sacred cows, what we won’t give up
Not that Holstein, Jersey, Hereford
But, how about that beef with your sister, or
that cow you had over losing the business deal?

Maybe it’s that professional mask you wear, or
your fetish for Levy stonewashed jeans, or
that beard you’ve worn since college, or even
your spoiled son draining you in your old age

Sacrificial lambs, what we give up
instead of what we should give up
Could be anything we don’t really care about
Anything but a sacred cow

Maybe it’s drinking diet Pepsi
instead of surrendering that chocolate addiction
Could be keeping your dreadful current job
instead of growing the career that’s right for you

Sacred cows, what we protect
to keep from changing
Sacrificial lambs, what we surrender
to keep from changing

Train Whistle in the Fog

Off in the distance
a haunting train whistle blows
in the sullen early morning fog
that sat the night
and now blankets the slow rising sun

The train whistle, this foggy morning
hovers in that place inside–
that place holding your deepest loneliness
That place hope surrenders
That place you go–
when real tears fall

Listen to what haunts you
Hear its voice, know its name
For it will call again
It will find you as you sleep
like that haunting train whistle
breaking the early morning fog

Warriors of the Light

Each of us, in our own way
gives light to the world
Each of us, in the way we know
fights for what is right

Some carry torches
Others raise the flag
Some prefer sitting quietly, praying
Some write poetry, enlightening themselves
and possibly others

We are crusaders for truth
justice, freedom, and so much more
We are, in our own unique ways–
warriors of the light
shining within and through us

Let your light shine
May it iluminate your path
and that of others
that all may find their way

Give Me the Reality I Want!

Reality, neither good nor bad
It just is
Don’t like the suit it’s wearing this morning?
Learn to care less about suits
Sounds harsh, I know
But it’s true

Like you, my wants are the lens
through which I see the world
I want this, don’t want that
I want to feel this, not that
Don’t like the hand reality dealt you?
Don’t play cards

Words Helplessly Pointing to Reality

Party favors, our crazy ideas about the universe
Those philosophical rants, just frightened dogs barking at the moon
Elaborate belief systems, mere nimbus clouds
hovering over head, blocking reality

So much of our lives, trying to figure out truth fragments
Nothing more than faint meteor showers
against an ever-changing night sky
So much explanation for things just passing by

Hard not to get carried away
Educated minds are supposed to
Minds have a proclivity for just that–
Exaggeration, exacerbation, and exaltation

Some times I just can’t help it
All the nonsense gets the best of me
Makes you wish for a heavy snow
silencing the lies, mumbo jumbo, and sheer bull

When Will We Ever Learn?

What’s it gonna take
to stop all the fighting?
To end all the killing
Taking lives not ours
When will we ever learn?

Is it a hopeless situation?
One lost, beyond our control?
So many unanswered questions
So many answers…
we do not appreciate

Look around
What do you see?
So many dead bodies
So much lost ’cause of war
When will we ever learn?

If you read the papers
you know what I’m taking about
You’ve seen all the pictures
The nightmares keep you awake
When will we ever learn?

Maybe if we had a conversation
Talked about what matters
Listened to each other’s heartbeats
Maybe then we’d stop all the killing
Maybe then we’d appreciate

The Winds of Time

The winds of time blow over us
Taking with it everything
it ever gave us, and more
All the hopes, dreams, promises
Those lived, those unborn

And the years, they fly by
like loose sheet music in the wind
Many songs sung, even more unwritten
All eventually blown away–
helpless autumn leaves making way for winter

No use holding on to anything
Let it go…all of it
Can’t stop the wind
Its bitter sting in winter
Its comforting touch in summer

It’s not ours. None of it
Much easier that way
No keeping after anything
Not even the fire warming us, and
certainly not the inevitable wind

Donna Jean

You there, lurking in the shadows
Thought I didn’t see you, but I did
I’d know your golden locks anywhere
Even in the half light of a winter moon
I’d know you

Fifty-seven years seems such a long time
Is it the same for you?
I picture you–
Still holding me
Like in the old photograph

You left me
I never got the chance to tell you
just how I felt about you
The stories about you
still float through my head

They said you were special
You knew things–
Things no four-year girl should know
They said you loved me
You couldn’t get enough of me

I’m always glad you’re there
but you can go now
You don’t have to stay here
Not for me any longer–
Unless you want to

donna-jean3.jpg

Word Pictures #1

Off-colored, Jane Fonda’s recent Today Show comment
Benign, a long way from Lenny Bruce
Innocent, something O.J. Simpson never will be
Iraq, another way to spell Vietnam

Whimsical, my mood this morning, but also
the 1906 winner of the Preakness Stakes
February, a very long cold day in hell
when we celebrate everything from groundhogs to Mardi Gras

Nonchalant, excuse me if I don’t care
Methuselah, one old dude, and about six liters of wine
Foozle, what happens to some of my poems
Sanity, a place I’ve not been in a long time

A Valentine’s Day Poem for Mary

You ask so little, give so much
Your life, your work, so many touch
A grounded leader, who gets things done
Your heart shines bright, like the sun

Your love of nature goes unmatched
Birds, kitties, flowers, your soul attached
Others’ pain you feel, and their sorrow
You lend your support today, tomorrow

You’re tough as nails, when need be
But others’ views you also see
You’re respected, loved, by so many
You win them over, even your enemy

You mean the world to me
In love with you, I’ll forever be
You keep my feet on the ground
No one better, could I have found

So on this cold wintery Valentine’s Day
These words to you I must say
I love you more than anything
To you my heart will always cling

Heroes in Our Own Life Stories

Heroes, all of us, in our own life stories
Travelers, you and me
A journey, each day to find ourselves
A lifetime to discover what we’ve lost

Reluctant at times
to accept the challenge–
we are to ourselves
or the challenge nonexistent places pose

Lost at times, all of us
Both within and outside ourselves
Adversity, around each corner
Our biggest monsters always within

Romance, laced between footsteps
Too often in love with ourselves, and
forever in love with whatever we seek
Wedded we are, to the myth bringing us here

Lost arks, holy grails, new lands discovered
Apparent destinations, the journey’s end
But even reaching the end–no end in sight
Heroes we become, only when we go beyond

Eventually comes the morning, we awaken
Like the sun, we shine, and
finally see what we’ve lost
Only then, can we go home

Inspired by Joseph Campbell, Carl Jung
and my teacher Jonathan Young

Pieces Searching for Unity

Lost, a solitary unopened seashell
Alone, the moon without the sun
Afraid, one last sudden heartbeat
Sanguine, a lonely red hovering sunset

Tacit, gratitude underlying truth
Fragile, eggshell thin reality
Calculated, beyond religious computation
Convivial, spontaneous hope overflowing

Unorthodox, like no other before
Defictionalized, stripped of all imagination
Idiosyncratic, unique but not alone
Whole, all parts in love

Live Fully, Love Deeply, Laugh Often

I evesdropped their conversation
Watched the volley, back and forth
Times they agreed, times they didn’t
Their tension cut into me
The words, even the silences, all too familiar

Time to find a another job
Start a new career
Time for a major career-life shift
The words stung because they were true–
for me as well

My whole life, I longed for a calling
An undeniable sign from God–
A burning bush, a voice deep inside
Throughout my work life, doors opened and closed
but no trumpet ever sounded

Work aligned with spirit
Service to others
Right livelihood
Create the work you love
Meaningful work

Right work, right life?
Maybe not
Right life, right work?
Suddenly a trumpet blares:
Live fully, love deeply, laugh often

You My Reader

Sometimes I wonder about you
Your eyes inhaling what I’ve written
Your mouth lipsynching my words
My words becoming your words inside you

Yes, I wonder who you are, and
what you find in what I write
Do you see what I see?
What do you see?

Poetry is a funny thing
Always more than what meets the eye
Like an onion, so many layers to peel away
Like an ocean with no bottom, no end to its depth

I wonder what you feel about my words
What you bring to them, and
what you leave behind
without either of us noticing

I like the way you dance with my words
Yes, you give legs to my poetry
That’s a good thing. Don’t you think?
Wanna rumba?

Beyond Goodbyes

It was never supposed to have happened
His life, the way it did
Beginning from nothing, and eventually
returning to exactly the same
I knew him my whole life
Never for a moment were we apart

His death, the way it came
Without warning, without purpose
One moment, there was breath and life, and
in the next, it was gone
Everything lived, and
everything ever imagined

They cried for him, even those with dry eyes
Especially those with no tears
For their unfinished business bound them forever
to all they held onto
All that remained on the ground
Just above his grave

In a way, I am glad he is gone
His pain was too great
Not just for him, but all of us
The saddest part for me–
No way to say goodbye
No way to fill what always will be empty

When in Perfect Balance We Dance

There you were, on tiptoes dancing
Dipping deep, reaching high
Forever lost in the moment
A ballerina riding a shooting star

We held our breath
as you reached beyond time
Beyond places breath can take us
To places only the heart can go

On tiptoes you swirled and spun
like a perfectly balanced top
Such grace, such beauty
Only a butterfly knows

Some things only love knows
No words capture
No plan contains us
When in perfect balance we dance

Small Things Change Us

Off in the distance
A single bird sings sweetly
A sign this gray February morning
Spring will come soon

Heartened by its melody
I lingered, longer than usual
Soaking in last notes
Stirring hope within me

A mystery to me–
How such a small creature
can ignite such passion
with so simple a song

What a serendipitous blessing, I thought
For something so small to weigh so large
Something so unexpected to spark unity–
A sense God is always there

Something inside me changed, and now
climbing a mountain today
seems far less important
than sitting in quiet holy reception

Transcending Ego

Into my life you staggered
like some teetering drunk in the night
I fed you, gave you a place to rest
Eventually we became friends, then lovers

I loved you, almost as much as I love myself
This love’s ended, but you’re still here–
parading about naked in broad daylight
Even worse, lurking about as a ghost in my dreams

I built you up, you tore me down
I gave you my best, always you demanded more
I drew up separation agreements, time and time again
You never signed any of them

Why are you still here?
There’s nothing left to give you, or myself
What can I give you
that will make you go away, forever?

Even your silence draws life out of me
There is no peace as long as you’re here
No peace until I forget your name
No living until you’re dead

Not even death can extricate me
from your insatiable wantings
For somehow, you’ve embedded yourself
even in my own dark death wish

Beware, for I shall be watching you
as I sit in motionless silence
Without thinking, without doing
Watching you pass away into emptiness

Aurora Antonovic’s Review of My Dad’s Poetry Book

This is truly a big day for my Dad, Donald Lowell Iannone. His book, When God Speaks to Us, was reviewed by Aurora Antonovic.

Click here to read Aurora’s wonderful review, and click here to read what Dad had to say about the review.

Aurora, my deepest thanks! Initially when I told Dad about the review, he was shocked. Then, his shock gave way to much happiness.

Growing Old and Wondering

Old faces, filled with time
Flash back what’s to come like heat lightening
taking the long road home

Lost smiles, fretful grimaces, contorted frowns
All sides of broken triangles
Lonely whispers awaiting blind supplication

Like wayward priests in intercession
Clouds, filled with tomorrow, rain hard
on barren fields, left alone in fallow adoration

Weak, knees trembling, arms outstretched
Imagined saviors climb down from still green crosses
Crucification waits at least one more day

Without warning, or reason
another day is born from today’s seeds, and
more time fills our aging faces

Lingering Life Questions

Where do you live?
Does this place bring out the best of you?

How do you live?
Does your lifestyle give something back to others?

Who have you surrounded yourself with?
Is your social network a true reflection of the real you?

How do you spend your time?
Is most of your time in service to yourself or others?

Who do you believe you are?
Can your life transcend these beliefs
and allow you to be fully present?

I don’t have all the answers–
just a few questions I try to ask myself periodically.

Now or Never

Never a day like today to be who you are
Never a day like today to wrestle reality
from the jaws of illusion–that place we must live
until all illusions are outlived

Today is all we have
Never anything more will we have, even when
we think there is more, and
even when no end of less is in sight

Find today wherever you are
Hug it, hold it, as long as you can
For surely it will give way
to another day, another start and finish

Find yourself before you disappear
into something other than you are
Discover who you’re not, before
who you are ends forever

No matter what
Give today all you have

Preening Doves in Early Morning Light

Two doves preen fluffed feathers in dim early morning light
They ready for breakfast, the start of a new day
A couple, forever committed
Through thick and thin, a pair for life

Like the doves, life’s interwoven paths: happiness and meaning
From happiness…joy, from meaning…connection
For some of us, it must be one or the other
For all, it is each every day in some measure

Not unlike the sun and moon sharing the day
Each brings reflective light to our lives
The sun…nourishing light growing the world around us
The moon, our souls aglow, feeding our inner beings

Some days, we feel lightless
as happiness and meaning play hide and seek
Other days, the sun’s penetrating rays beat down on us
and the moon’s upending tides wash over us

Two doves preen fluffed feathers in dim early morning light
They ready for breakfast, the start of a new day
Like the two doves, such is light in our lives, and
the happiness and meaning growing from that light

In Others We See Ourselves

Met a man just the other day
Who exactly I can’t say
Lost in time, with no plan
Just another hopeless man

A lonely man, walking a distant road
On his back, an unbearable load
Too tired, too worn, to even care
Naked, empty, nothing left to share

A crumpled man, prematurely old
No life it seemed, left to unfold
Passionless, frail, so very thin
No family, friends, next of kin

A man whose life passed him by
No one there to hear his cry
Like all other men, or you or me
Bound to death, can’t break free

His face, so very worn
Darkened eyes, filled with scorn
Face and eyes, lost in time
Life forsaken, without rhyme

Not till at home, did I see
There I heard his desparate plea
For meaning, love and purpose be
Essential things, you would agree

Disturbed me so, this war torn man
Felt his load, my life did scan
Across the room in the mirror
My own life became more clear

His ghost, shadow, phantom be
Strangely now, a part of me
How you ask, can that be
Look in the mirror, you will also see

Giving It a Rest

No knowing it all
or even anything close
No reason to know it all
or even anything close

What’s to know, really?
Anti-intellectual, you say
Not at all–
Just giving thinking a rest

Sit, still the mind
Give your breath your attention
In and out
Again, in and out

Easy does it
No hurry, nowhere to go
Rest, smile, free yourself
No need to hold on–to anything

Feel your inner fire–
Burning brightly
Didn’t know you had one?
We all do, so do you

Get a sense of yourself
Not this or that–
Just yourself–
That which comes before

Rest
Let go
Ah, that’s the place
Be! Right there!

Winter’s Soul

Cold winter night
Star-fed sky, reaching upward
Like stairs, we climb
To a higher place–
Beyond where we normally go

Cold winter night
Frozen breath on hard blue lips
Brittle realities, like death
Snap and crack our worlds into pieces
No whole holding them together

Cold winter night
Razor-thin sharp edges on dull faces
Reflecting lost memories back to us
Like moonlight’s cold hands
Gripping our hearts till we surrender

Cold winter night
It comes and finally goes
We survive, this time
Huddled fireside, quiet shadows sit
Slowly, we hear their stories

Giving It a Rest on a Cold January Morning

Some days the hands of the clock race
like speeding rabbits around its face
Other days, they inch along like poking turtles
lulling the clock itself fast asleep

This brutally cold, snowy January morning
time, which we chase each moment, has taken flight
Making its way southward to the land
where the sun shines ever warm and bright

Timeless, spellbound by the lazy falling snow
Desire for a nap overtakes any remaining ambition
to accomplish even the smallest objective
Postponing all races with or against time

January, indeed a time for new beginnings
Also one for hibernation, and
giving birth to dreams that eventually sprout
When later nourished by April’s warm showers

Dreams, latent ambitions, eventually all unfold
as both tortoise and hare within us awaken
and make their way to one finish line, and
ready again for yet another race

January 19, 1951

Brutally cold January night, but no surprise
to anyone living in Martins Ferry in 1951
Deep snow in layered drifts, like ocean waves
Piled high above front doorsteps

Blustering winds, howl like wildcats
Blowing pitch black coal furnace soot
onto pristine white fresh fallen snow
Black and white, extremes amidst life’s limitless color

Most things, still waiting for spring to be born
4:14 AM, a tiny cry breaks the early morning air
Not winter’s angry wind, but a newborn
Taking life’s first frightening breath

And from that first breath, five hundred million more
Each a new beginning, strung together
like an unimaginably long pearl necklace
Worn as only a man at fifty-seven can wear

You look back, trying to understand
But you never really do
All you know is it all starts with a single breath, and
that is also how it finally ends

The Holy

To some, beyond us
To me, everything we are and more
To some, either inside or outside us
To me, everywhere and nowhere

To some, more than we can become
To me, more than we can imagine
To some, what we strive to emulate
To me, what we are minus what we think we are

To some, only what certain words can capture
To me, pointing to that beyond words
To some, only the good, pure and sinless
To me, beyond good, purity and sin

To some, a presence and state of being
To me, a presence helping us transcend
To some, God
To me, Godlike

How Life Seemed One January Morning

Sorrow falls where happiness fails
Laughter, tears, endless trails
Beyond that place we usually hide
Much deeper still we must abide

Sprinkled through the life we live
Magic’s touch, we must forgive
Life and death writ upon our hands
Each trickles through us, life’s fine sands

Never knowing where or when
Moments pass, new ones begin
All around us, what we’ve brought forth
Waiting within, our true north

So much to ponder, but more to live
Often wonder, what to give
Never knowing where or when
Moments pass, new ones begin

Freehand drawing, life appears
Moves us past all the tears
Never knowing where or when
Moments pass, new ones begin

In Between Place

You know me
but you don’t
At least not
as I know myself

I know you
but I don’t
At least not
as you know yourself

Somewhere in between us
there is an intersection
we create to discover, and
get to know each other

And, somewhere beyond
this place we know
there is another place
taking us past ourselves

That place is where
real knowing occurs
and where the boundary
between us disappears

Inner Demons

Who are your demons?
Those living inside you
Hiding from light in the shadows
Always there, waiting

Steering your life into treacherous waters
Sapping away the best you have
Riding you like a wave
Ultimately, filling you with emptiness

Though you wish otherwise
your demons are never separate from you
Always, buried parts of us, growing
like weeds among the roses

Strangling us to death
Until we name them
they continue to inhabit us
What are their names?

Giving Thanks for Breath

All depends upon breath
Without it, we are nothing
Worship it as your soul–
for surely it is that

All breath depends upon the wind–
that connecting us to all else
The wind, God’s breath, nourishes us
lifts us up, allows us to be

Give thanks for breath and the wind
They are our best friends
Though invisible, together they are our foundation
May you breathe and dance in the wind forever

New Year’s Day

January 1, 2008
A new year begins as a quiet dark morning
flirting with wet snow and freezing rain
No hangover, thankfully
More expectation than regret, thankfully

No fireworks ending the old year
No need even for a sharp demarcation
between old and new, or
what was and will be
Yet, so many subtle memories, wishes, dreams

The first day of a new January
No fanfare, frenzy, or even football
The finale of a wonderful holiday season
filled with joyous sounds, familiar loved faces
bright lights, much giving and receiving

Today, one for inwardness…
a cut below the skin, probing something deeper
Cherishing last year’s gems
Some looking ahead, pondering possibilities, and
thinking beyond myself

It’s true…time flies as we grow older
So it seems in my harried, hassled, overworked life
which miraculously finds more joy than sorrow
more pleasure than pain, and
a nice balance between meaning and happiness

So, on this New Year’s Day…
no maudlin reflections
no arcane promises
no pretentious claims
Simply a new beginning with hope

When the Wild Appears

In the forest
not far from the house
coyotes serenade moon shadows
climbing tall tree tops
disappearing into early morning sky

First, their sporadic yelps
then deep soulful cries
telling mythic stories only wild spirits can know
Our ears, tuned to another octave
mistake their passion for lonely discontent

For one fleeting moment
something wild, and unmistakably foreign
bubbles up inside us
Desperately lipsynching their sounds
we awkwardly hope to understand

Then, in scant early morning light
slender dog-like outlines appear
Sensing their presence, we kneel
thanking God for His presence, and
wondering where our wildness has gone

Winter Zen

Winter’s eve drawing nigh
Dark clouds hover, January sky
Fading firelight, flickers gloom
Dancing barefoot ‘cross the room

Huddled shadows hushing night
In your arms hold me tight
Sharp-edged snowflakes fall so still
White frost clings, nearby window sill

Longing for what’s not there
No comfort found, my rocking chair
Sitting still, motionless
Holding on, memories caress

Brutal cold winter night
Full moon shining, oh so bright
Sitting still by the fire
Surrender there, all desire

Life Between Our Plans

Remember when you were ten
and thought at twenty-one
you’d be all grown up and perfectly happy?

Then, when you were thirteen
your father dropped dead of a heart attack
and your family all but fell apart.

Remember when you were twenty-one
and thought at forty
you’d have life all figured out?

Then, just as you finished college at twenty-two
you became pregnant with Jessica
and your plans to become a trial lawyer ended.

Remember when you were forty-five
all three kids were on their own, and you thought
you could launch a writing career?

Then, two days after your first book was accepted
your mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and
all your energy shifted to caring for her.

Remember when you were sixty-five
had published eight books, and you thought
Tom and you could finally relax and smell the roses?

Then, when you were sixty-seven
Tom died after a prolonged battle with cancer
and Jessica entered rehab for alcoholism.

Remember just yesterday, on your eighty-third birthday
you marveled at how life seems to happen
in between all the plans we make?

Nothing could be more true.

The True Blessings of Christmas

Look about
So much we have
Much more than needed
Certainly to survive
Let alone be happy

Deep down we sense
happiness is without attachment
Not another possession
Not from having anything, or anybody
Happiness: unconditional and beyond conditioning

Again, Christmas’ spell falls upon us
Showering us with so much–
The fruits of our conscious desires,
our bubbling hopes, and
even stronger, our unconscious dreams

It’s the dreams making me wonder
So powerful. Like nuclear bombs
exploding inside us
Rippling throughout our beings
Giving rise to that before the expected

Yes, look about
See past what you see
Hear beyond the words
Receive Christmas’ true blessings:
Peace, joy, gratitude, and love

Silent Night

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Saviour is born
Christ, the Saviour is born

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love’s pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth

About the Carol: 180 years ago the carol “Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht”
was heard for the first time in a village church in Oberndorf, Austria.
The congregation at that Midnight Mass in St. Nicholas Church listened
as the voices of the assistant pastor, Fr. Joseph Mohr, and the choir
director, Franz Xaver Gruber, rang through the church to the accompaniment
of Fr. Mohr’s guitar. On each of the six verses, the choir repeated the last
two lines in four-part harmony.

Merry Christmas, Words Coming Close

The Holy, born within us
God’s seed resting, and awaiting
the right moment to open

Starting as a dream, bubbling up
filling us, and then
enveloping our being, like golden sunshine

His promise, now ours to keep
and grow through our lifetime
Not in one way, but all ways

In His likeness, we grow
Wedded to something higher
Something Christ-like

Ever-present, ineffable
Always there, lifting up our spirits
just when we need it

Perfectly unlimited, beyond words
but one said so many ways comes close: Merry Christmas
Èestit i sretan Božiæ, Christhu Jayanthi Nalvaalthukal
Nollaig Shona Dhuit, Kreesmasko shubhkaamnaa
Noheli nziza, Eid Milad Majeed
Froehliche Weihnachten, Joyeux Noël
Felices Navidad, Bon Natale

Christmas Memories

Memories, Christmases past
Fond ones, childhood fantasies
Sugar plums dancing through our heads
Magical ones, dreams materializing under the tree

Not just about things, but people
Those we love, family, friends
Surprise, a heavy snowfall on Christmas Eve
Blanketing earth, silencing the daily clamor

Wonder, the Christ Miracle, wrapped in story
Unfolded, enacted, over and over again
Finally, engraining itself in our souls–
Its purpose in the first place

Learning to give, of ourselves, to others
Family, hearts tethered together
Those loving us most, and
Giving to us before themselves

Beauty in color, rainbows donning evergreens
Wispy gray smoke, spirits drifting across rooftops
Bright reds and greens, blood and life eternal
Rosy cheeks, Jack Frost nipping at our toes

Special sounds, sleigh bells in the snow
Christmas carols, Silent Night
Hearty laughter, tears of joy, and
Best of all, hovering golden silence

Christmas, always going beyond ourselves
In so doing, finding our true selves
Christmas, the magic inside us
Christmas memories, remembering life is a gift

Within the Shadows

Something wild rages
just out of reach of the sun’s touch
and beyond the moon’s forever lost call
An unspeakable wildness somehow we know

And down below, and beyond
the incarnate always walk alone, and dance
at midnight with the eternal flame
extinguishing the inner darkness

And in those shadows
the empty hollows fill with twilight’s wonders
and silence clings to our soul
like dreams to our first waking breath

And should danger appear, remember:
He that dwelleth in the secret place
of the most High shall abide
under the shadow of the Alimighty

Footnote: Last stanza from Psalms 91:1

St. James Cathedral, Toronto

Large decorative front doors
Opening our hearts wide

In a good way, Anglican
With sharp edges probing us

Old, reaching out to the ageless
Making us feel our timelessness

Ornate beauty, inspiring us to find
What lingers just beyond our grasp
But causes us to rise
Above our small selves

Light through stain-glass windows
Streaming through us
Into our souls

Angelic voices, capturing our sweetness
Carrying us high above

Faces, all shades of the rainbow
God’s love, from all directions
On Third Advent Sunday
At St. James Cathedral in Toronto

Wearing Cowboy Boots to Toronto

There they were
At the very back of my closet
I smiled
They shined back at me
My black leather
white-stitched Tony Llamas

Why not wear them to Toronto?
It’s winter
The weather forecast says snow, lots of it
My mind is made up
I don the boots

Everything fine and dandy…
until airport security
Nearly fell on my face
Hopping around
Trying to remove the boots
in the security line
My wife rolls her eyes
The lady behind us muffles a laugh
What could I do?
I crack up too

Two hours later
Immigration line, Toronto Airport
I catch the guy next to me
staring at my shiny black boots
He quips: Cowboy, eh?
I saw his smirk
He thought he had me
I paused
He had this one coming
Yessiree
Howdy pardner
I’m Slim Aikens
County western singer from San Antone

Mind you…my cowboy accent is good
The man’s smile vanishes
from his chubby face
He bought my story
Hook, line and sinker
I pushed on
Singin’ at the Royal York tomorrow night
Stop on down

Regaining his composure, the man replies
No thank you
Not much of a country music fan
My wife shoots me a glare at this point
I had gone too far
Several people were now looking our way

We were rescued by the immigration officer
Next!
Occupation? Oh wait I know…
You’re the Country singer Slim Aikens
Reason for your visit to Canada?
Strictly pleasure
Pleasure, eh?
Seems you got an early start in line
He winked and waved us on through

I was in DEEP trouble with my wife
All because of these stupid boots
Needless to say
I removed them in the cab
They never did see Toronto

December Daybreak

Deafening quiet December morning
Still cold air surrounds and bites at nothingness

Fresh white snow…piled deep, muffles
worldly worries and woes

Light creeps slowly into day, through naked trees
awakening bright red cardinals
plopping from perches into glittering snow
in search of first light breakfast

No highway sounds, lawnmower roars
only the sound of lingering stillness
hushing the heart into patient repose

Santa, Santa, Forget Me Not

Santa, Santa, forget me not
All year long, been a good tot
Made my bed, said my prayers
Ladies sit down, pulled out their chairs

Santa, Santa, forget me not
I’m good as gold, sister’s not
She pulled my hair, pinched me hard
Slut pushed me down in the yard

Santa, Santa, forget me not
Presents for everyone, I have bought
For me all I want is that choo-choo train
If I don’t get it, I’ll go insane

Santa, Santa, forget me not
Last year what you brought was squat
Reason you said is I’m a tattle tale
Good all year, not one did I blackmail

Santa, Santa, forget me not
I’ll leave you cookies, cocoa hot
Want a date with my mom?
She’s real hot, a real cherry bomb

Santa, Santa, forget me not
Got your note, postman brought
Says I broke the golden rule
Can’t trick me, I’m no fool

Santa, Santa, forget me not
Just a few things, I forgot
Forgive me please, I’ll change my ways
Bring that train, you, I will amaze

Santa, Santa, why no response
Why this asinine nonchalance
Give me exactly what I want
Or you, my ghost will forever haunt