Tempting enough

thecourseofourseasons

You hold in your hand
A golden orb
Heavy with promise
The sparks fly
As you tear the thick rind
And the rich perfume
Fills the air
One by one
Luscious segments
Are revealed
Finally you hold the fruit
To my awaiting lips
Sweet juice overwhelming
My senses
Surrendering completely
To the sensual pleasure
Of the orange
In your hand

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Would love to read the paper after this…..

Thoughts Out Loud

A poem I wrote as a preface to a paper for a presuppositional apologetics class.

The Myth of Neutrality

Common thought in coffee shops,

 Where cream is stirred, along with thoughts.

This notion of neutrality. 

 

The battle with truth rages,

Suppressed indeed, ne’er evaded.

The foolish soul is restless still.

 

Minds swim in a caffeine sea,

“I’m not biased, be more like me!”

This foolish common argument. 

 

This loud thrashing, drowning man,

Red-handed caught with contraband.

He’s never neutral, nor are we.

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made me smile too

Kurt Rees

120330010630-older-woman-hands-flowers-sunlight-story-top
She picks flowers
and puts them in a vase.
It happens every day.
The arrangement
is different
every time I see her.
She tells me of dreams
about her husband
that died
a long time ago.
She always sees him
dressed in white.
How he stands there
with their dogs
and cats
that have passed.
He smiles
to let her know
things are going well.

She looks at the vase again
while we talk.
She speaks of how when
he was alive he would
cut flowers
and put them in a vase.
It was an everyday ritual.
She starts to cry and says
that the current flowers
in the vase
kind of keeps him alive
on earth
and that it’s her way
of smiling back.

©Copyright 2007 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved.

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Celestial…..way up there with the real good ones

in parentheses

Darkened Moon

Amidst the whispers of the night,
all alone, the mournful moon wept
upon the deepened world of dreams.

The woodland tears quivered
with circles of colorful leaves,
dances of indigo nocturne imprint into dirt.

In wheat fields of golden grain,
when summer days grew longer,
we used to play along the brook as children.

Peppermint leaves we used to eat
grew beneath lilies, sunflowers, rosebuds,
as the grand willow tree breathed shadows.

Silent midnight within spirits of cottonwood
wore tortured hours of heavy raindrops.
Moments passed in the love of death.

Cursed Blessing

Monitor electric lines go flat,
silence overwhelms, steady pulse
whispers death into my sleepless eyes.

I prayed for three nights, crying into her nightgown,
the ER remained keeper of bad news.

Flowers and miniature trinkets lined the bed,
Get well soon, only nothing existed.
I counted my breaths, pushed back heavy tears
and guilt that…

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Quite the ride

heartandsoulmatter

One day you finally knew

what you had to do….and begun

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice –

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles

“Mend my life”

each voice cried

But you didn’t stop

you knew what you had to do

though the wind pried

with it’s stiff fingers

at the very foundations

though their melancholy

was terrible

It was already late

enough, and a wild night

and the road was full of fallen

branches and stones

But little by little

as you left the voices behind

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of cloud

and their was a new voice

which you slowly

recognised as your own

that kept you company

as you started deeper and deeper

determined to do

the only thing you could do –

determined to save

the only life…

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