Before You SpeakBefore you speak, let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At the second ask, ‘Is it necessary?’ At the third gate ask ‘Is it kind? Rumi
Search for a Poem
Source of Inspiration Vol. II
Now available through Amazon.com. All proceeds are being used for families in need through my volunteer work here in Brazil. I appreciate any support you can give in the beautiful work we do here. Buy the book as a present for yourself or someone you love. Thanks, hugs, pat
Link for Amazon.com
The Web of Duality–Other Side of Source of InspirationCome to our new sister blog and explore our often-masked side. It will leave you with much to ponder. https://webofduality.wordpress.com/
Poems in PortugueseRead our sister blog which features some of the poems from this blog translated to Portuguese. Fonte de Inspiracão em Portuguese www.fontedeinspiracao.wordpress.com/
The Final ThirdStories from a book in progress about my years in Brazil as a volunteer www.finalthirdsite.wordpress.com/
In Retrospect — Archives
- 709,415 hits
Category Archives: Poetry
Living on the street cast away from polite society young me sent to war discarded, abandoned living in cardboard shelters filled with nightmares gathered in far-away lands
Stars in the sky grains of sand waves on the sea count them all and still you won’t have how much God loves you and me Oh, that I could learn to love so thoroughly
Why write a poem full of lies? Is not poetry where one bears his soul? Even if filled with metaphors the poem reveals the lover’s heart filled with longing overflowing with love tears unshed truth revealed.
I am lucky blessed am I my path is strewn with four-leaf clover rainbows hover above my head angels guard my every step I am loved I am loved luck and loved through all time
Lay down neon footprints, Lord Blaze a trail so clear to me Make my faith forever strong May I walk with my hand in Thine Guide me, Lord, to the Promised Land.
Vulnerable fragile tendrils of fantasy illusion wrapped in mystery filled with emptiness waiting for others to make life happen afraid to start living my life governed only by that voice within
I’m here then there until I’m nowhere or even everywhere Who am I? What am I? A thought single idea part of God’s day dream?