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Wednesday, June 22, 2016

"Eyes of a Painter"



Gray-haired and flint-eyed
His sunburned Face lined 
Grandpa was a man of few words
He had a way of not wanting to say
Any more than he thought could be heard.

The long Years of Living 
And day-to-day Giving
Had carved a Map on his Face
With Little to Lose, he'd learned how to Choose
And his Choices were easy to Trace.

He had the Eyes of a Painter
The Heart of a Maker of Songs
And his Words fell Like Rain
On the Dry desert Plain
Precious and so Quickly Gone.

From a long line of Teachers
And white Baptist Preachers
He was Born with an Indian Will
His Quiet dark Eyes, Reading the Light 
As he rode in the low Osage Hills.

His School was the Prairie, the Sage, the Wild Berry
The Quail, the wide Open Sky
The Cottonwood thicket, by the Slow Rolling River
The Redbud and the hot Cattle Drive.

There were Days filled with Thinking
Nights with the drinking
For a Lost Love that Raged like a Storm
But how his Eyes Smiled, when he'd talk to a Child
His rough Hands so Gentle and Warm.

His strong Arms were brown 
Where the long sleeves rolled down
On his Faded blue cotton Shirt
When Times got hard, he went out in the yard
And cuss away some of the Hurt.

Now the Garden's grown dusty
The hand Axe lies Rusty
The door's banging hard in the Wind
Grandpa's Store is Closed down
Like most of the Town
And  it Won't be Open again.

His big white car sits out in the Yard
Of  the House he Built Solid  and True
But I see his Eyes, Burning tonight
Like the Stars in the Sky he once Knew.

He had the Eyes of a Painter...
And the Heart of a Maker of Songs
~And his Words  Fell like Rain...
On the Dry desert Plain
Precious and so  Quickly Gone.
 
 


~Kate Wolf
  U.S.A.

~Beannaichte'
 22 June, 2016


beannaichte@twitter.com 



Monday, June 13, 2016

"I Am"


 Lightning Cracks the Sky
A whip driven with the force of the Gods
It is beautiful, yet always unknown,
as to where it will touch
It is Fierce
It is Free-
It is.

 
I Look for the Hand
That so quickly paints the jagged lines,
flashing across the Sky
 ~ A great Artist;
 who other could capture the whole of the Universe,
with one stroke-
It is.

 
The Wind Moves, without caution
Rain falls, in torrents
I Open my stained Soul,
leaning into the Storm
I am called into Oneness; to Life,
to Prayer-
It is. 
 
 
 The Thunder Pounds
~ A master Drummer;
so certain of each beat,
a rhythm that is True to the Storm
The olde is washed away.
I find new Strength-
It is.  



  Lightning Falls from the Sky
  strong fingers reach, while shielding me
my Soul bows before the Great God; 
A voice Speaks,
 Lovingly.
Two Words~

I AM.
 

~The raging storm, within, now calm.
 

~ Alicia O'Hara C.
 8 July, 2013
 ~ Posted on 13 June, 2016


@beannaichte.twitter.com 

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

"Restless Farewell"


Oh, all the money in my whole life I did spend
Be it mine right or wrongfully
I let it slip gladly past the hands of my friends
To tie up the time most forcefully
But the bottles are done 
We've killed each one
And the table is full and overflowed
And the corner sign
Says it's closing time
So I'll bid farewell and be down the road.

Oh, every man that ever I've touched
I did not do it harmfully
And every man that ever I've hurt
I did not do it knowingly
But to remain as friends
You need the time
To make amends and stay behind
And since my feet are now fast
And point away from the past
I'll bid farewell and be down the line.

Oh, every foe that ever I faced
The cause was there before we came
And every cause that ever I fought
I fought it full without regret or shame
But the dark does die
As the shade is drawn and somebody's eyes
Must meet the dawn
And  if  I see the day
I'd only have to stay
So I'd bid farewell in the night and be gone.

Oh, every thought that has strung a knot in my mind
I might go insane if it couldn't be sprung
But it's not to stand naked under unknowing eyes
It's for myself and my friends; my stories are sung
But time ain't tall, yet on time you depend
And no word is possessed by no special friend
And though the line is cut
It ain't quite the end
I'll just bid farewell till we meet again.

Oh, a false clock tries to tick out my time
To disgrace, distract, and bother me
And the dirt of gossip blows into my face
And the dust of rumors covers me
But if the arrow is straight
And the point is slick
It can pierce through the dust, no matter how thick
So I'll make my stand
And remain as I am
And bid farewell and not give a damn.

~ Bob Dylan
U.S.A.


~ Beannaichte'
 8 June, 2016

@beannaichte,twitter.com