What happens in heaven?
Will I sit on a cloud?
Is walking or talking
Or jumping allowed?
Will I be on my own
Or with some of my friends?
Does it go on for ever
Or eventually end?
I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
Take some Picts, Celts and Silures
And let them settle,
Then overrun them with Roman conquerors.
Remove the Romans after approximately 400 years
Add lots of Norman French to some
Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Vikings, then stir vigorously.
Mix some hot Chileans, cool Jamaicans, Dominicans,
Trinidadians and Bajans with some Ethiopians, Chinese,
When Mother divorced you, we were glad. She took it and
took it in silence, all those years and then
kicked you out, suddenly, and her
kids loved it. Then you were fired, and we
grinned inside, the way people grinned when
Nixon's helicopter lifted off the South
Lawn for the last time. We were tickled
to think of your office taken away,
your secretaries taken away,
your lunches with three double bourbons,
Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran—
Whene'er he went to pray.
Sleek blurred silhouettes
beneath colored umbrellas
shun falling silver.
On the path to golden sun
strangers all walk together.
I was an experienced hiker, who had rambled down many famous trails,
Like earth's charming, 365 day tales, of its seasonal, sightseeing avails.
I'd trekked routes in Australia and Tanzania, and also numerous others,
Like a deep purple mist is fading, to dispel a normalcy which smothers.
As I walked the endless vacation miles, I had abundant time to ponder,
Like the sun, spending its gold everywhere, owning plenty to squander.
My family and friends were understanding, as many of them hiked, too,
Speaking only kind, constructive words about others,
Prioritizing peace among earth's sisters and brothers,
Remembering green practices, essential to our lives,
Easy as the benign habits, of honeybees in gilt hives.
Always eager to give more than likely to be received,
Devotedly loyal to a loving God, who's never deceived,
Indelibly making being good neighbors a huge priority.
Nurturing friendships helps create a friendly majority.
Generating sunny smiles, giving generously to charity.
Pretty blue sky change
just as the sun is leaving
Peace of believing
Bees return from day's searching
still butterflies under moon
Blooms closing petals
Lustrous fireflies are dreaming
Starlit muted hues
Birds will issue a warning
I was a creative choreographer, for superb Broadway musicals and plays,
As musical winds choreograph motions, throughout any of our rosy days.
I lived for charms of elegant dance, for its beauty will forever be with us,
As moon and sea make beautiful dance partners, since gravity is a plus.
And vivid life itself is an opera, full of songs, loud laughter and sad tears,
So, we often wrestle with genuine emotions, as with some sad souvenirs.
Some of life's dancing is entirely public, but sometimes it's done privately,