"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ~
A WORLD ADRIFT AND MIFFED® Caringly, honorably and patriotically written by Donna J. Fennel.
Quilled from my balcony on August 24, 2003 especially for thee.
Revised on May 4, 2006. I submit this as my peace offering.
Following a rhapsody of rain playing on my waking windowpane ~
While Pavarotti and my latté accompany this dawn I now claim
Wherefrom my sill, I commit to quill during this hour ere still ~
As fantasies fly far, and memories cascade like candies from a jar.
Knowing it is eleven hours hence since I wrote my last sentence ~
I yearn to introduce new play of poetic foray to soulfully cleanse.
As I transcend towards a heavenly harbor of this lullaby of lair ~
Inner peace spawned from spiritual release I now appease to share.
As blustery breezes from my bygone days blow through my hair.
I find my mind is entwined with sunshine memories ere so kind ~
As generous grapes of sumptuous summer hang low ‘pon bough ~
Pacifistic phantasms of my history here are guiding me there now.
I awoke from a dream, where I was walking with a peasant girl ~
Beside a scintillating stream that flowed 'round a woeful world.
Ah, we spoke of a good many things, tho her mouth ne'er moved ~
While most peculiar of dream scene emerged to pacify my mood.
She told me God was thankful for my trying to right some wrongs ~
By producing poetic song, hoping to soothe weary souls who long.
While we strolled, she warned me that mankind I am not to judge ~
Nor should I begrudge those whose self-complacency does not budge.
O, enraptured in dream I was then, beyond reality’s realms of whys ~
While the most beautiful of beings manifested 'mongst sumptuous skies.
The Lord appeared, drawing me near, assuring all will become clear ~
During sunset in ten years, when leaves evolve into a thousand tears.
Then a vision of ivory doves took flight, resonating a most joyful noise ~
While angels 'pon high rejoiced, I hearkened the Lord’s virtuous voice
Announcing hour draws nigh, when man will witness in a sunrisen sky ~
His Savior has come to prepare daughters and sons for heavenward ride.
He advised that man seek peace while he can and forgiveness implore ~
Eradicate hunger, greed and war while generously giving to the poor.
It was then when I awoke, and this dream became smote with smoke ~
And my dear mother was standing there, with white ribbons in her hair.
Tresses unfurled, curled into palest paths that surrounded and swirled ~
Like His holy crown had ascended down to abound an imperfect world.
I was now wholly convinced this illusion was beginning to make sense ~
If our race accepts His Holy Grace He will, indeed receive our penitence.
Now my mug of abandoned latté reminds me it requires abundant heat ~
While army of apples in yonder orchard assure they are available to eat.
Soon a squire of squirrels will be appearing from my captivating clearing ~
Not giving thought to how evening behaved, or how blustery wind raved.
How I yearned to quench my poet passion’s thirst on this meadow morn ~
To reach beyond approaching storm and sinister specters of sinful scorn.
For I understand that my Holy Sire requires I hearken hallowed dream ~
And relegate same through poetic scheme, however strange it may seem.
And mother’s frame of face ere chaste, who appeared in my vision space ~
To me embrace, along with God ‘pon this humblest sod of genteel grace.
Especially now, when our country fast approaches noted day of infamy ~
The September 11th tragedy, when anguished angel tumbled to his knees.
Akin to one’s billowing breath bestowed ‘pon a bevy of bellicose embers ~
I borrow a moment, pausing to remember season speeds towards September.
When most heinous of acts evoked our nation’s pact to punishment enact ~
'Pon those who struck with Satanic blows, while raging ramparts flowed.
Lo, our country’s pride had died on that morn when we mournfully cried ~
And knowing not we would hereto be overwrought with assassins who plot.
Envision now his cherubic face, whereupon fitful fire frenzied and shone ~
While those who watched from home, knew God was crying from His throne.
Henceforward, hearken as our brethren will, autumn’s approaching chill ~
And as I reflect here pondering from my sill, hearing their mournful cries still.
O, we tread heroes’ paths their feet have worn, much so like today’s storm ~
Relaxing 'neath their orchard trees, while listening to the harried hum of bees.
While soon arrives the rustle of bladed corn, recollect our terrorists’ scorn ~
For to harbor this horrid memory of their cemetery, is to be dutifully warned.
Insofar as promising poets of our history, do absorb from their pages you read ~
Their heartfelt message, heeding the intent to honor heroes whom they lament.
For time will come when sun casts no shade, no voice is heard, no sign made ~
No steps to be paved by us anymore; yet the Lord will welcome with open door.
My recent dream instilled that I quill from my heart what is so right and just ~
Reminding all to protect our nation’s faith and grace, for it is in God we trust.
We need not remain hopeless and hapless, while routinely laying our dead away ~
Nor continue our brutal battles or forays, for salvation is spared when we pray.
Life, love and liberty can never lose its own, for God reigns 'on His holy throne ~
And someday where the sun once shown, will beam White Light of Heaven home.
O, how peculiar it seems with so much of mankind's history decaying in dreams ~
That some do forget the Trinity, who welcome all with eternal life, love and liberty.
Praying that man not loses respect for those who bled, honoring their 9-11 dead ~
Knowing beyond where His angels fear to tread, awaits His blessed homestead.
My precious brethren of man, we still can change, for it is only through our kind ~
That since we are left of all who circle now, His Divine Love is our mission to find.
Now pelting raindrops plummet on my sill, while all beyond my panorama lay still ~
And while I come to closure with my quill, know that it is through the Savior’s Will
I guide with pride, here, to instill there is hope awaiting those who seek His Love ~
For He is always waiting for us to knock ‘pon His door from holy dominion above.
In my dreamscape, there was a blind man who played guitar that had no strings ~
Yet the titillating tune he played touched the stars, enticing God’s angels to sing.
May you accept my precious world peace gift to you, while your day is blessed in every way ~
As we pay honorary tribute, offering prayers to those who died on 9-11-2001 and their survivors.
"The first step, my son, which one makes in the world, is the one on which depends the rest of our days."
~ Voltaire (Francois Marie Arouet Voltaire)
Historian, philosopher, writer and poet (1694-1778) ~
"Though apart, our spirits remain united
For our dreams are now well combined.
Embraced by the wonder of this season
Hosting the treasures of heart and mind."
~ Donna J. Fennel - December 19, 2005 ~
"Strum a calming chord into the hearts of many ~
From the One’s loving lyre that is Heaven-spun.
For the asking price is not an ounce or a penny ~
To offer mercy aplenty for world peace to be won."
~ Donna J. Fennel - July 15, 2005 ~
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