Thursday, July 29, 2010


I make my way upriver to that green and holy place
then sit atop the hill so I can think
the sun and wind take turns caressing my contented face
and I truly feel I stand at heaven’s brink.

So many thoughts assail my mind, much like a manic mob
and all they do is clamor to get out,
‘We only want to be expressed’ I hear one of them sob
“Well first you have to go through me!” I shout.

My head is crowned with careless clouds, my roots embrace the earth
my soul is soothed by nature’s splendid bliss
I don’t know if there’s an afterlife, or a ritual rebirth
but if there is, I hope it’s just like this.


Shirley said...

I hope so too. I do believe you write best when you're at peace. This is so beautiful... in substance and form!

Carrie Van Horn said...

I know that manic mob to...:-)
Beautiful writing!

Dimple said...

Hello Bob,

Nice title and composition!
Each word is well-placed... It is real example of good writing! Hats off dear...

The 2nd paragraph is "THE BEST" :)


rch said...

Thanks to you three fantastically talented ladies!!