"A quiet evening"

(Composed in the stillness
Of July 24, 2010).

The sounds of the night
Sprinkler's mist descends
Distant honk of a passing car
The bark of a neighbor's dog
The muffled rumble of voices
Float from a television set
Palm fronds rustled by the breeze

Candle flickers, lamp is dimmed
Smooth jazz pianist on my iPod plays
While my pen glides across the page

A bit of the city's bustling remains
A few street lights turning yellow
Yet most families are now relaxing
In their homes for a quiet evening
Snuggled in their living rooms
Eating popcorn and watching a film
Perhaps laughing over a hand of cards

On the sofa I recline, journal open
Pondering the water softly trickling
Its gentle whisper in my window

"Today in La Mirada"

(Composed on April 16, 2010).

It's a particularly breezy day
Today in La Mirada.
Enjoying a brief walk in the park
In the glowing afternoon sun,
I am distressed to read the black words
Spray painted in capital letters
"DO NOT FEED THE DUCKS".

As though an icy wind encroached,
Chilling to the very bone,
So this interdiction shakes me.
Beside the gentle flowing pond,
The sweetly chirping and quacking birds,
This prohibition in its silent shouting
Disturbs the melody with its dissonance--
Clanging cymbal 'midst soothing sonata.

"All eyes to the stage"

(Moments remembered on December 17, 2009).

Clusters of choir members scattered around,
A couple of altos reviewing their part,
Another munching on carrot sticks in the corner.
Violas from the orchestra tune,
Black collars popped and red ties hanging;
Girls scurry barefoot to the mirror,
Hurriedly reapplying their lipstick.

The doors fly open and the audience floods
Down the aisles and to the front.
Hugging and chattering with a grin,
The room is filled with their enthusiastic buzz;
Eagerness and delighted anticipation pulses.
Taking one last gulp of water, I stash the bottle
Beside an empty cello case and a roll of electrical tape.

Moments later the house lights dim,
The crowd grows silent;
All eyes to the stage.
The choir adjusts our black folders,
Clicking on the little music lights.
The conductor raises his baton;
Deep breath and…

"Hearts' delight"

(A choir member's fervent prayer,
December 10, 2009).

The torn screen door swings open
Exposing a heap of cans on the floor,
Drained dry, sapped six-packs,
Dreams, distant hopes of youth spilt,
Now dingy stains on the carpet.

The stench of beer and sweat
Drenches every inch of air,
As a cloud of thick smoke swells.
Cigarette butts litter the floor,
Tossed aside, burnt out, scorched idealism.

Shining childhood naivety,
The innocent glow of youth,
Tainted, tattered, tarnished,
Smothered, suffocated, strangled,
Mangled, maimed, and marred.

There was a party here last night,
Or did he drink alone?
It hardly matters now.
Alone he slouches on the couch,
Dead eyes, anesthetized to life.

Is there hope for him this Christmas?
Might he find joy this time of year
Amidst the plastic twinkling lights?
Might the brilliant Advent candles bright
Illumine this soul and enliven his eye?

May we not glide by this Christmas
Snuggled in our jingling sleds,
Cocoa in hand and cookies sweet,
Joyful carols ever echoing
In our scarf-wrapped little heads.

May the truth of that blessed night,
Floating, soaring through our song,
As the star which shone so bright,
Lead the lost to our dear Savior,
Guided by our hearts’ delight.

"The gentle, floating breath of flute"

(Upon meeting Debussy's faun,
December 1, 2009).

The gentle, floating breath of flute,
Melody flitting as a leaf in the breeze,
Pale, lily yellow, tranquil and fragrant,
Bold flashes of color, hints of scarlet mystery,
Meandering through fields of vibrant wildflowers,
Beneath the shade of blossoming cherry trees,
Delicately sweet, glistening honey of the comb.

Pipe's playful frolicking tune overhead,
As sunbeams peaking through tender leaves,
Then burning bright as the golden sun,
Blazing in her brilliant noonday glory,
Piercing the veil of the billowing cloud,
Twirling higher, faster and faster...
Mighty crescendo of brass and string!

Stillness, cool as the babbling brook,
Serenely gliding over pebbles smooth,
Against the trunk of a budding tree,
Beneath the sparkling stars, dreamily nestled.

"Sunday Afternoon"

(Inscribed by the magical beauty
of August 23, 2009).

Fanciful Summer's breath beacons unto me.
My iPod's soothing piano solo,
Fingers delicately stroking the keys,
I stroll to the park, meandering down my block,
Weaving through houses and winding streets,
Like bounteous rows of the blossoming rose.

Jingling bicycle bells and dog collars,
Quacking ducks and honking geese,
Whirl of skateboards and rustling leaves,
Frisbees soaring into the blue,
Each a soloist accompanied
By the gentle, flowing melody.

The pages of my journal flutter,
My sun-kissed hair joins the dance,
Flitting and glittering in the breeze.
Giggles and squeals float across the pond,
As children skip and prance,
Dodging water balloons midflight.

Bobbing his emerald head,
Then tipping completely over,
A duck tumbles in the waters
Perusing the depths for a snack,
And a gentle rumble of a plane overhead,
An afternoon twirl through the clouds.

A flock of geese clumped beneath
The welcoming shade of a tree,
Moseying across the grassy slope
Just out of the pages of a storybook.
I half expect to see the crook extending,
From behind a tree Little Bo Peep to appear.

No swans today, yet on such a pond
The ugly duckling once discovered his beauty,
And among such trees a little hooded girl,
Skipped with sweets for her grandmother,
And a young blonde discovered a house,
Tasted porridge and slept in the baby bear's bed.

With the shimmering golden rays and sparkling pond,
Grassy rolling hills and shady trees,
How can some so easily dismiss fairy tales?
"Mere rubbish and poppycock," they say.

Modern adults too busy for childhood fables,
Too mature for talking animals,
Too advanced for simply moral tales.
May God have mercy upon us all!

My soul, soak in the warmth and tranquility
Infused in every golden ray!
O breathe deeply of the magical air,
The beauteous dancing of the breeze!

Praise Him who formed the heavens,
Who fashioned the earth with His Word,
Who walked beside Galilee's sea,
Who climbed Golgotha's solitary tree!

"Jesus saves!"

(Heard the song, voice resonating
on July 12, 2009).

Cheerful smiles, giggling eyes,
Bouncing golden curls and clapping hands,
Little Nicholas jumps and plays.
The happy tune fills his soul.
In jubilant innocence, infant delight
He shouts, "Jesus saves!"

"Times are tough.
We are going to have to let you go."
The words echo in his head,
As he trudges to the car.
Hands trembling, mind racing,
He sees the question in their eyes,
His dear wife, even now,
Hungry little faces round the table,
'There's no food in the pantry.
What am I to do?'
That childhood ditty dances in his mind,
In quivering voice, eyes to the sky
The chorus repeats: "Jesus saves!"

"The cancer is back,"
The doctor in his starched white coat
Walks out of the room.
Their eyes meet in silence
Gently looking into the depth.
His brown eyes water as he looks into hers.
He leans in to kiss her cheek.
"Jesus saves!" she whispers in his ear.
He reaches out and draws her into his arms.

Hobbling up the church steps
He makes his way to the pew.
No hand in his this week
For she is with her Maker now.
Over these many years
The strength of his voice has faded,
Yet like the steady,
Deep roar of the ocean,
He rumbles on, "Jesus saves!"

"Soundtrack"

(Composed to the smooth jazz
in the cafe on February 14, 2009).

Out the window I stare
From the warmth of a cafe table,
Spotting cars drive by and couples stroll,
And a flock of birds in mid-flight.

The hustle and bustle of the city
Becomes a choreographed dance,
As the jazz seems to infuse all in sight.

The flustered shopper seems to float
On the notes of the saxophone,
As the kids in line for the pizza party
Smile and laugh to the beat of the drum.

Calming me into a contemplative state
Or exciting my soul and moving my feet,
This music becomes the soundtrack of my life.

"Hearts Aglow"

(Composed my birthday week
in January of 2009).

Friends gather around a table,
Stories are heard,
Both deeply philosophical
And delightfully absurd.

Tuscan wine makes the rounds
As sparkling laughter abounds
In the candle's flickering light
Like stars shimmering in the night.

Dean Martin serenades
While the creamy sauce marinades
Our tongues with pure delight,
Kindling smiles warm and bright.

Some like a jingle of silver bells
Others, merry horses in a stable,
Uproarious laughter resonates,
Encircling the festive table.

Like the melodious chirping of birds,
A chorus in the sun's brilliant ray,
Cheeping and twittering to one another,
So friends rejoice in this beautiful day.

Or as a lively babbling brook,
Skipping across the chiming stone,
Tinkling as it frolics and plays,
So laughter rings its cheerful tone.

Like a blazing fire on this winter's eve,
Dispelling the darkness and bitter cold,
Golden candlelight and crimson merlot
Warm the soul and sets our hearts aglow.

"A Stroll through the Park"

(Composed in mid-November,
the week of Veterans' Day 2008).

The beginning of a path
Open and inviting.
The gentle breeze whispers to me
Bids me come for a stroll.

"Open your eyes and see!"
He calls unto me.
"Gaze upon the beauty of this place.
Enter into its warm embrace."

Meandering up the grassy hill, I stroll.
Shady trees outstretch their branches,
Extending outward, upward,
As though reaching toward heaven.

In the rustling leaves birds chirp,
The winged chorus of beautiful harmony,
Accompanied by the hum of insects
Dancing in the breeze.

A squirrel prances
A lizard leaps
A butterfly flutters by
As birds twirl in the sky.

The patter of rabbits' feet
Eager to join the jig
Celebrating the beauty of the day
And proclaiming their Creator's praise.

The breeze caresses the trees
Orchestrating the woodwinds' play.
Leaning against a tree,
I hum along, enraptured by the melody,
Warmed by the sun's enveloping ray,
Swaying in the gentle breeze.

"Beside the Stream"

(Composed in the quiet afternoon
of October 22, 2008.)

The bubbling brook
Whispering breeze
Chirping birds
Dancing leaves.

Calmly the water flows.
Gentle ripples form
A mosaic of teal and azure
Brushing the tranquil stream.

Sitting in the shade,
I gaze around
Embracing the quiet melody.
The chaos of the city traffic
Hushed by the patter of water 'pon stone.

Time seems to stand still,
Save the natural rhythm of the day.
Just sunlight or moonlight,
Cares simply float away.

The beauty of simplicity
No stress or worries near,
Only quiet moments tucked away
Sweet memories so dear.