Day: March 20, 2020

Thousands of snowflakes in the air
Slowly drifting to the ground
Mr. Wind is blowing his horn and
The music is peaceful and soothing
Wave after wave greets the sandy shore
The sky is bright, a gray-white color
Sunshine is not going to greet us today, but
There is a feeling of order taking place
 
If we have close to nine billion people
Living on the earth at this time and
They equal twenty-five percent of all
The people who have ever existed
Then thirty-six billion people have been
Or are on the earth up until now
How many snowflakes in a shovel of snow
How many grains of sand on a beach
 
We are mighty beings and each important
No one is less significant than the others
The cemeteries are full of the indispensable
Sidewalks are full of the deplorable
Many rise up to grab for power
They are struck down inevitably
There is only One we must answer to
Many are eager to tell their own story
 
Not all believe, but He knows all the stories
Thirty-six billion stories, all important
One wonders where all those souls are
He said that in His Father’s house
There are many rooms
No one can ascertain; we believe
He made it easy for us; He died for us
We must only love Him and our neighbor
 
He said to build His Temples with love
We, in our ignorance, bring stones
Will we ever learn?  Is it too late to know?
Glaciers existed where I now sit
Men still seek power; ignoring love
Thankfully, He is still for us
Our free will gives us the power to choose
We would be wise to select the Light
 
Stanski
March 20, 2020 ^
 

 
I like to go back in time
                From time to time
Not because I liked it so
                Or couldn’t forget
It was a little different
                A much slower pace
 
Party line telephone
                A land line
Long distance calling
                Something special
 
ColoniaL bakery delivering bread
                Sealtest milk the same
Both used horses to pull the wagons
                You knew their names
The driving crew
                And after a while
                   They knew yours, too
 
Twenty seven houses on a city street
                Twenty different churches attended
                                Eight schools at least
A diversified group
                We got alone pretty well
 
Those times were good times
                And I like to dwell there
Think about it a little
                Go back for a while
                                But not for keeps
I like today, too
                Don’t know about tomorrow
 
Stanski
March 19, 2020 ^
 

Some of the best poems
We’ve never read
Have not been put down
On a paper with pen
Remaining as it were
In the stem of the poet
 
We will never know them
Or recite them from memory
But will be moved to take note
And not repeat that act
Because no one deserves
That type of neglect
 
Stanski
March 19, 2020 ^