Win/Win?

Competing interests /
Often call for some losses /
Before both can win

Sonnet XLI – Christmastide

It’s “Boxing Day” which means the season’s o’er? In ‘Murica, again, we have it wrong.

Then What?

In general, I find a great deal of peace and predictability in the turning of the liturgical seasons. In other ways, it’s tremendously troublesome.

Always waiting. Always looking for what’s next. “OK, that one’s done, and I guess it didn’t ‘work’ either. What do we wait for next?”

There Are No Rules – #SoCS

Opposites attract, Except, of course, when they Don’t.

On Advent – IV: Displaced Darkness?

Last night / We watched the candles / Lighted

On Advent – II: Evasive Peace

This week marks Peace; It still evades.

On Advent – I: Love Has Freed Us All

Life finds a way / Love finds a way / Amor nos omnes liberavit

awash in truer song – Sonnett XXXIX

My yonder wild still calls, don’t get me wrong; some days its Sirens all that fill my ears.

Somehow Sustained

“Admitting weakness makes us strong” A paradox for certain How can a “right” seem oh so wrong Revealed by open … More

Insides Out

I want to live with Insides Out / Is ever too much Out in doubt?

Ardently Reject the Counterfeit – Sonnet XXXVIII

Confounded why such phases bring sere blight; I ardently reject the counterfeit.

Into the Gray – #SoCS

These days, anyone who says the Bible is “crystal clear” on anything beyond “God is love” is immediately suspect in my mind.

I once thought bliss a baseless myth.

I’d scoffed at hints of mirthful pith; I once thought bliss a baseless myth.

More Than Just a Pretty Face – #SoCS (NSFM)

When I saw the prompt for this week’s stream of consciousness, I literally laughed out loud.

The Palette of My Life Some Colors Short – Sonnet XXXVI

These metaphors diverse I do intend; Results remain remote unto the end.

Freedom as Farce

The power we promised / But can’t deliver

it’s not my fault

It’s Friday, and I am not thinking

America – A Lament

Turns out the abbreviation for United States is spot on.

Too.

…that soothing balm / For which / All our Sore Souls / Cry.

This Thing Called Hope – Sonnet XXXIII

So pushing on, I live my Best Todays / And Trust Tomorrow’s Hope will Suit our Ways.