A Quest for Truth

My thoughts on what beauty is, originally performed as a beatnik poem, complete with bongos.

A Quest for Truth

The moonlight breaking through the clouds

The sun peaking through the gray mist

One man running through many crowds

Ambiguous as a clenched fist

A sign waiting up in the sky

A bright spot amidst the darkness

One man ready to jump and fly

Conflict asserts her agelessness

The joy of first discovery

The pain of not fully knowing

One man deep in recovery

The Search is forever flowing

A quest for truth

A search for life

Conflict brings us

Beauty in strife

A Christmas Gift

A gift to my parents this past Christmas. 

A Christmas Gift

Dedicated to Mom and Dad

Two people dedicated to creating life

Not just giving it

Two people shaping, molding life

More than just giving it

The role of a parent is more

Duty dictates (demands?) diligence

Watching, guiding, pushing, prodding

What can only a child know?

The limits are set

The bounds are given

Life begins, but it’s all livin’

How much freedom is mine?

Respect, obey, but why?

Fear? -No

Duty? -No

Love- from them, for them

An outstretched hand

A warm embrace

A firm command

A whisper of grace

Not everything was great

But it did the trick

I am who I am

Thanks to some saints, not Nick

Two people dedicated to creating life

Not just giving it

Two people shaping, molding life

More than just giving it

Horace Gill Hilton: In Memoriam

I wrote this after my grandfather passed away last fall. A more serious turn to my musings than usual.

H. Gill Hilton: In Memoriam

Horace- lover of the sound of a full chorus

Horace- enjoyer of flowers perhaps even an orris

Horace- grateful his name was not Boris

Horace Gill- a man of untold skill

Horace Gill- twice climbed that old hill

Horace Gill- shied not away from the quill

Horace Gill Hilton- denied help to none

Horace Gill Hilton- devoted disciple of Thy Son

Horace Gill Hilton- against death he has won