The Waiting Room

Have you noticed?

Waiting room clocks are LOUD!

So are the people who pass outside the door.

Moreover:

Why does the time go so slowly?

And why do the passing conversations seem so trivial?

Putting these things to one side for the moment

The big question is…

Will it actually be worthwhile

Spending this part of my life HERE?

 

Fake News

Fake news is in the news

If that can be believed

What’s true or false is hard to tell

It’s so easy to be deceived

 

Exaggeration, if you will

Is one old type of lie

But what of calling others names

In an effort to decry?

 

A tweet or text, or video clip

Sent, cannot be denied

Inconsistency may also be fake

Specially to mask one’s pride

 

More On The God Thing (In Which God Does America Trust?)

Pantheists think reality shows the divine

Agnostics hold that this can’t be proven

Atheists believe there aren’t any gods

But is that a valid conclusion?

 

Religion seriously troubles me

Is there one that is clearly the best?

How many people make a choice,

Weighing theirs against the rest?

 

Was I born lucky, in the right faith?

Should I feel sorry for those who were not?

Does my God hold me above all of them,

And should they accept their lot?

 

Whose God will decide the fate of the world?

Does mine have plans for you?

Am I allowed to question its will?

Or must that be accepted too?

 

Does God have a personality of its own,

And moods that we need to mark well?

Does it feel anger, if we err on the path?

If so, how are we able to tell?

 

If I have an eternally lasting soul

Let a kind God be the judge of its fate

If that isn’t the one I have just now

I must swap it before it’s too late

 

If your God is actually the one I call mine,

But known by a different name.

Then our differences can’t be all that great

So, we should treat everyone just the same

 

Imagine

Try to imagine this with me

Quiet your mind, let it roam free

Looking out over a calm blue sea

At a foreign shore where you could be

 

Drift across that peaceful scene

To wave kissed beaches, still pristine

Edged by tall trees in verdant green

No sound but bird song, so serene

 

There, just there, pause and wait

Relish the moment and aspirate

Here where time is more sedate

Open your soul to a higher state

 

A Poor Crop

If my tomato plants could speak

They would surely sing with praise

About the tidy greenhouse

As they enjoy summer days

 

Grow bags lined up precisely

Canes readied for support

Windows open for fresh air

A perfect life in short

 

Why, then, do they bear so little

Of the round and deep red fruit

It offends me and seems selfish

Of that there’s no dispute

 

Each evening I check in on them

Down the winding garden path

But their offerings are so paltry

I think they’re having a laugh

 

My neighbour says they’re dying

But how can he be sure

He says they must need feeding

But, like watering, at that I’m poor

 

An Unexpected Caller

A caller rang the doorbell

Straight way my heartbeat skipped

Who can this be a-ringing

With no visitors on the script

 

The house is so untidy

I haven’t combed my hair

Fish smells linger from the kitchen

The timing’s so unfair

 

No chance to try addressing

The mad jumble of concerns

Again the bell rings threatening

To open my can of worms

 

A moment’s hesitation

Safe this side of the door

Jumping with surprise as

A note flutters to the floor

 

Then footsteps gate-ward tread

As I guiltily scan the card

‘We tried to deliver a parcel today

You must collect it from our yard’