We walk not of this world way, but by Faith.
For each of us has been promise different things.
Yet we still walk by the same Faith as the other.
We each are on a different path with him as well.
Some Faith may stronger today, but not tomorrow.
For Faith is by hearing, then believing it is true.
We all have the very same objective here in life.
It is to finish this race=Journey that we are on.
Thus then being told by our Savior well done.

He sat watching as the love dripped out of her,
like broth dribbling off the spoon back into the bowl;
each drop of pho causing ripples of warmth.

He wished to plunge deep inside of her soul,
to penetrate her mind and pause briefly, but
long enough to see how much love remained.

He watched as her hands became a swarm of bees,
her brown eyes turning to fire as she spoke,
and in this moment she was still beautiful.

His heart writhed while slowly realizing that,
it doesn't matter how much you love someone.
Sometimes love just isn't nearly enough.

Poetry, is not just
The rhyming of some words
It’s expression of a feeling
Which a heart shepherds

A rhapsody of heart and thought
Immersed in joyful bliss
Or dashed upon those rocks
Of agony’s abyss  

Pictures made of words
Painted by a quill
Words that dance and twirl
At the penman’s will

The fusion of a thought
With the gift of soul
Emotions that are freed
Without any control

The sorrow of a heart ache
Set in rhythmic prose
The rhythm of true love
Which two hearts compose

Visions sketched in words
For everyone to see
Desires and their dreams
In hopes that they will be

The harmony of lyrics
A mind and heart have spawned
Set, in melodies of verse
To which, we all respond
BOEMS BY JA 413

Bring forth the unknown .. The sweltering night , the call of the artillery round .. The tragedy of mans frailty , calculated in misery and pooling blood , the cry from the field of battle , the drowned upon the merciless shore .. Inveigh the opposing force , the ground beneath their cannon ,
the opening glint of Sun o'er the beachhead by morning tide .. To the sacrificial American warriors of antiquity , may the ghost of Sergeants and Field Lieutenant survey and secure our safe passage by the morrow ...

Oh month of bloom,
I wander through the greenery
To gather myself,
I see honey and fragrance
From half opened budlings,
I could not be any more sick!
          My beloved grey Winter mistress
          Gone to the birds
          And their songs that wake
          Me from my depressed slumber!
A bird flies from tree to tree,
And no windshield is safe!
      I salute the thorns of every rose,
      I wrestle with the inevitable
     Approach of Spring poems,
     An avalanche of sweet seasoned
     Words falling from villainous
     Repetition, seasonal song of the
     Lofty new flowers,
     Oh my nemesis Spring!