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Poems

Soul Song

Drifting, drifting, slowly like a snow white cloud on a summer day.

Sitting beneath an old, old tree. Mind wanders, just finding it's way.

The warmth of the sun and the songs of the birds lift my spirit free

Communing with nature, becoming as one with all. Just to be.

 

I hear water dancing somewhere near, and the distant call of a Loon.

Deep, deep down inside my soul I feel the emergence of a tune.

Lifting flute to lips, fingers moving without thought, breath becomes a song.

Clear and pure the notes flow out, carried on the wind, which seems to sing along.

 

Eyes closed, feeling as one with all creation, music fills my being.

Lifting, lifting, until I am soaring above the earth, but still unseeing.

Eyes open, looking down on myself, still playing, animals have stopped to hear.

Deer, rabbits, squirrels, and others, the music calms them, they have no fear.

 

Then I am back inside of me. My soul song has been shared. Now ended.

But still I hear an echo, a few notes here and there, hang suspended

in time and space, to flow on forever carried by winds to realms above.

This piece of wood, crafted with skill and prayer, can fill many hearts with love.

Mo©2003

 

Man

 

The world would be a better place

if it didn't house the human race.

Man destroys all forms of life,

forever causing war and strife.

 

We hunt the fox and kill the whale,

shoot the birds and crush the snail.

Destroy the links of natures chain,

retribution is hunger and pain.

 

The leopard dies to make a coat.

Gloves and shoes from a baby goat.

Young seals battered for their skin.

Populations are growing thin.

 

Mink bred just for women to wear.

Does anyone know? Does anyone care?

Vanity, murder, pollution and war,

it can't go on for evermore.

 

The world would be a better place

if it didn't house the human race.

As man destroys all forms of life

degeneration's running rife.

 

No flowers, no trees, no birds, no bees,

if they aren't alive then man WON'T suvive.

 

Mo. ©.1997

 

Who am I?

 

This body that other people see,

the face in the mirror, that isn't me.

I am more, I am spirit.

Spirit is young and flies free.

Mo © 2000

 

I'll Not be Too Far

Don't mourn for me when I am gone.

I will not be too far.

Just think of me and I'll be there,

in every tree in every flower.

In every little buzzing bee, in every breeze that blows.

No longer will you hear my voice,

no mail by land or sea.

No messages in cyberspace.

That's not where I will be.

Just think of me and I'll be there,

in all the fields and streams.

I'll walk with you along your path.

Just remember me sometimes in your dreams.

Mo ©2000

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