The Creek


I live near a creek.

I have lived here all my life.

I have seen its many seasons of ups and downs.

I have seen the rain come, causing it to rise.

I have been with it through times of drought.

When no rain was to be seen and the water was depleting,

It still flowed- life sustaining.  It is always brown,

though it has its clearer days.

Days that seem tranquil, placid,

where the river seems to be at rest.

Those days I can sit idly by and watch it,

the clouds hovering over me;

the grass tantalizing my nose with its rich fragrances;

the faint aroma of wildflowers that create a perfume

nestled against the banks.  After a heavy rain

the banks can turn into a marsh like sponge, and I can feel

the ground molding to the forms of my feet.

I have also seen days where the river seems filled with rage;

when limbs and leaves are swept away-

down the heavy current.  The creek is no mighty river.

But, all great rivers have their sources;

I live near one of those sources.

I am privileged to be here.

There is relaxation on its banks, I know it.


Can I write a poem?

Can I write a poem?

One that makes the angels sing

A verse, a rhyme, keeping time,

While watching all of creation bring

A gift of praise to the God on high

Whose love for all men never dies

Although he once died that all may live

And find the freedom song

He brought us to a relationship

Not a this and this book of rules.

Our peace is found in something blind

In believing like a child.

Our hope is found beyond mere words,

In a God who is serene.

He gave us life, He gives a life again

To those who desire to follow him.

A Kindled Summer Ending

As the end of summer onwards near

My heart softens with a gentle touch,

This angle that has fallen here,

Has rekindled my spirit such.


Every hour like a minute

My mind does not even blink

To catch everything in it

This minute I don’t think.


I act on nature’s impetus,

That ethereal beauty never dying

With every word Thy speakest

What makes you think I’m lying?


How I could spend the hours

Wastefully in your care;

With all of God’s great powers,

Eternity surely there.


There is a beast roaring

inside me.  It wants to be free;

From its cages ever enclosing

As it gets denser and more comes in.

Begun by an intake of

Kidneys, pintos, and blacks

Continued by my inward digestion

Of things that produce air.

Nitrogen, Methane, Carbon Dioxide and Friends

All are the things that make men merry again.

It isn’t good to hold, but only to release;

Leaving you cleansed and more at peace.

The Passionate Doctor

I can recognize the symptoms

I can see them from within

I can diagnose a heartache

For I have seen it many times

I can diagnose lonliness

For it comes in by itself

I can see Depression

Sitting gloomy in a room

I can see anxiety

The fidgeting nervous wreck

I tried to help out apathy

But he really didn’t care

I tried to help out Anger

But he was already in a rage

I can recognize the symptoms

I can see them from within