could we rock the walls of jericho …

could we rock the walls of jericho

play the music
heard as a child
melodies floating
on summer hours
while we
foolishly stare
into the sun
daydreaming
of loves to come
stumbling forth
sunblind
onto
tomorrow’s path
eyes squeezed tight
so as to
refine the focus
only to find
the blindness
to be permanent
we cannot
see
evil
so we
continue to sing
what many
called
foolish songs
of faith
wondering
all the while
if our voices
could be heard
inside the walls
of heaven

when notes float fly…

when notes float fly

somewhere
children hear
notes of music
floating by their sadness
they had no song before
but now
their hears sing
and
with each
of their heartbeats
the notes weave
their way
into the fiber
of their being
their souls
where each note
becomes
eternal

Inspired by Marilynn Mair’s poem ‘notes float fly

background music…

background music

there are
small voices
that go
unheard
songs lost
within the clutter
of our thoughts
our
routines movements
those
weighted steps
throughout the day
that mask
sweet melodies
so as
day ends
we bemoan
how
life
was wasted away
but we
did not choose
to hear
the music
of the soul

making soup from bones…

Making Soup From Bones

as i picked up
the groceries
for thanksgiving
the brown bag prophet
said
as i hurried
to my car
now don’t you find
it interesting
that on this day
of
thanksgiving
when the descendants
of the pilgrims
will eat
736 million pounds
of turkey
that the very people
that made it possible
for them to be
survivors
in the first place
will have
50 percent
of their
children
go to bed
hungry
not just today
but
everyday
now
ain’t that
something
to be
thankful
and
proud of

passion…

passion

come
dance with me
to music
most have forgotten
pulsating
like
two hearts
pressed
against naked skin
while
eyes
with hunger
stare into
reflections
of desire
desire
that would
make one
pass through
the seven gates
for such
ecstasy
come
dance with me
dance
with
me

hitting the right note….

hitting the right note

there’s a magic
about jazz
maybe
it’s the souls
encrusted
in its notes
souls
laying dormant
until nightfall
when
they’re animated
by the city’s
quickening pulse
freed
from the bondage
of death
taking flight
flying from horns
and
keyboards
rolling out
of the throats
of singers
singers
unaware
that the notes
aren’t
their notes
but the voices
of ella
sarah
or
a thousand
other voices
that have led
the lost children
of hope
into the promised land
time and time again
a land
where
their burdens
are lifted
and
their sorrows
melts away
and
for one brief evening
all
is
right
with the world