Sunday, April 16, 2017

Easter Sunday

Every year, my momma bear
Arranged selections of confectionaries,
Sweets and treats that symbolized the revelation of
The elation and celebration promised by God:
Eternal joy deployed through Christ as He
Rose from the grave on the third day.

Eggs brightly colored and smothered in stickers,
Gave our cozy kitchen a sense of Spring,
Gathering the family in play before Sunday service.

Honoring the hour when humanity was finally
Unified as a tribe of spiritual beings,
Nothing can steal the steel bond forged in

Times spent together, as a family furthering symbols of compassion.

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Alphabet Poem (Jesus Christ)

J esus Christ
K ing of the Jews
L ord of the Earth
M an for awhile
G od for eternity

Sunday, April 9, 2017

The American Dream

entrails torn out 
of cheap, Armani suits 
are the guts given up by men 
conquered and suppressed in wars waged daily, 
fighting for a spot in the race 
and losing the battle 
to hearts that are 

Monday, March 20, 2017


brings busy bees
pleased to be
buzzing between
fragrant flowers following
showers of

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Dangers of Florida

When I was younger, I had the opportunity to travel to the United States. At first I didn't want to, because of how dangerous and confusing it was. However, after speaking with my grandmother and some of my friends, it was decided that I was strong enough to endure such a journey and overcome any obstacles that might befall me throughout the duration of my trip.

Despite the relatively calm flight, I landed in a state of confusion. Coming off of the plane, everything was much different than I had expected. If the clock was correct, it was around XII and AII. What this meant, I had no clue. The many hues and shades of green further muddled my senses, terrifying me to such extremes that I fled the scene like a listless teen fleeing authority.

Florida was not at all how I'd imagined it. What I knew about its frosty tundra was given to me by my grandmother, Abui. Abui had warned me about Florida, its slick roads and chilly climate made for dangerous conditions at any point throughout the year. There were tigers and mooses that always got loose and who loved to eat little children.

Abui knew absolutely everything and she always shared her knowledge with me! She told me how the moon was held in place by a giant thread spun from the rays of the sun. She explained that blue was God's favorite color, which was why He kept it closest to him. And she told me about the dangers of green things, how they can lash out and bit you at any moment, if you aren't careful.

Her fear of green wasn't unreasonable. She told me that when she was a little girl her parents had taken her to a garden. In the garden, there were thorns that poked her, bugs that flew in her mouth, and all sorts of smelly flowers that stuffed up her nose. Ever since then, she's been careful to avoid such dangers. Which is probably why she lives in the desert.

Unlike her, I eventually grew to love Florida. My timid approach to nature blossomed into a love of all things springing from the ground. In my travels, I saw neither a tiger nor a moose. I couldn't wait to tell Abui all about my adventures. Upon leaving, I even learned that the clock read 1:37!

When I returned to Abui, I told her all about my experiences in Florida. She listened carefully, occasionally shaking her head and clucking her tongue. When I came to the end of my story, she looked very grave. With concern in her eyes, she indicated that the Americas had poisoned my mind. If I wanted to heal, I'd have to stay with her in the desert for many more years.

I didn't want to be sick for the rest of my life, so I followed her instructions. Which is why I'm still here, today, thirty years later. Sticking by Abui's side isn't all bad. My first grandson was born just two weeks ago. When he is old enough, I too will tell him about the dangerous Americas and that trickster of a place called Florida.

Sunday, February 5, 2017

It's All YOU!

The purpose of life is not material gain, or love, or enlightenment. The purpose of life is to recognize that you are alive right now. Seriously, look at yourself! Out of all the universe and its incredible span of time you are here, right now!

You are the doer, the knower, the thinker, the lover, the lost, the found, the timeless, and the bound. It's YOU! You are here reading this. You could be "not reading this," but that is impossible, now, isn't it?

Do you know who you are? You are way cool, that's for sure. Try to be something else...It's all you! It's all in your head. Let loose your eyes and see without judgement or strain, for you are judging nothing but yourself and straining against your own mind. 

YOU are the sum total of YOUr experience. YOU are all that YOU have experienced. All that YOU think YOU know is from YOUr experience.

Truth is not a clearly defined formation of words. It is a beingness.

Live it. Do it. Be it. See it. What will you do with it?

You will forget, but try to remember this truth again and again until it is permanent. Deny it, you will.

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Predators of the Night

Prompt: Write an ABC poem. It contains five lines. You may begin your poem with any letter of the alphabet. The next three lines must follow sequence. So if you start with the letter "G" the next line must start with the letter "H". The last line can begin with any letter of the alphabet.


Jungle cats stalk the night
Killing swiftly out of sight
Life for them is midnight quarry
Making many mothers worry
Gather your loved ones

Nocturnal villain's gleaming tooth
Opens flesh to end a youth
Prowling devil makes no sound
Quiet breathing holds no bound
Hope wanes in short supply

Roars are for the cats of day
Stealing silence in a way
That jungle cats never claim
Unless it ends their stealthy game
Intense stillness

Copyright 2015. JourneyHolm. All Rights Reserved.

Monday, January 30, 2017

Heaven's Poem

Forever flowing, the fragrant flowers of spring
bring busy bees, pleased to be buzzing
eternal echoes etched in earthly oms, 
homes for hearts and Heaven's poems.

Copyright 2015. JourneyHolm. All Rights Reserved.

Saturday, January 28, 2017

Pointless Story

In a quaint, quiet forest a mole went around, tilling the earth and digging the ground.  He was searching for worms, his slimiest prey, when he discovered a farm that would fill him for days.

There were so many worms, he ate himself fat.  On writhering thrones, he slurped and he sat. When he was finished, there were still many worms who attacked him in strong, slimy squirms. 

Sifting the soil, the worms trapped the beast, bathed him in grime, and made him their feast.  The mole was too gorged to put up a fight.  An ironic twist to his utopic night. 

The worms then thrived for three thousand years, devoid of thought, worry, or fears.  They evolved into a race of omniscient beings, finding all answers and gleaning all meanings.

One sunny day, a boy dug them up, washed off their dirt, and filled up his cup.  He used them as bait when hunting for fish.  Catching a trout was his number one wish. 

Grabbing a long, wriggling worm, the boy set to stick the hook through its form.  Just before the point pierced its soft side, the worm told the boy, "I want to survive!"

The boy dropped the worm in startled alarm, stumbled backwards and tripped over the farm.  The pile of worms slopped out of the cup, raced for the edge, and dropped in a plop. 

In the cool water, they raced for the shore, unaware of what the fish had in store.  Within a minute they were swallowed up whole, which really was this story's one goal. 

You see, the fish were part of a plot to show you what the mole begot: the beginning.  And the moral of the story is this, my dear, faithful friend, nothing matters when it comes to the end.

Friday, January 27, 2017

Forget Your Own Name

If I was God,
I think I'd be bored
because if I knew all
there'd be not to look toward.

Like watching a movie
for the one millionth time
I'd know the all the scenes
and speak every line.

Which would make perfect sense,
since I played every part,
from beginning to end,
in every moment and every heart.

I even transformed
into a limited being.
The pain of the world
had somehow been freeing.

If I was God,
I'd feel like a parent
who was raising a child
with a loving impairment. 

I'd want the world to know
how close I could be,
but then I'd think clearer
and see only me.

I think that God's lonely,
so he forgets His own name,
joins His creation
and plays out the game.

If you look into the heart
of any possible thing,
then there you'll find God
and merge with His being.

Once this occurs,
nothing's the same.
You see that you're God,
and forget your own name.

It's scary at first,
but once it moves past
you come back to earth
and try to broadcast.

Alas, the masses don't understand
and the message is never quite clear.
But in the end, it was all meant to be
exactly as it was written here.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

The Illusion of Time

Imagine a world with no time.  If you reflect, I think you’ll find that truly there is no specific date and that being late is just an illusion to eliminate confusion as we try to understand the world in canned form.  It has become the norm to believe that we exist during a specific year and hour.  We adhere to the power of the clock and allow it to lock us into place, creating slaves as we race to and fro with thoughts that we will go somewhere other than where we always have been.  A proper zen might snap us out of this delusion.  Alas, the infusion of the hourly circuit makes us work it until our fingers are numb.  It’s making us dumb; the thumb of the man holding us down so we can sparkle his crown with rocks that the flocks confuse as wealth.  All the while, their health is depleting as they lose fleeting moments to the ticking tock that mocks every moment of their lives. Time.

Friday, January 20, 2017

A Lone, Lost Lad

It was, from the start, a terror stricken heart that caught my throat in a chokehold.  I'd been bold, wandering so far from mom and her friends, and, now, it seemed my end was near.

Fear burned my mind as I tried to find the path from which I came.  Alas, they all looked the same, and no matter how loudly I called her name, she did not hear my cries for help. 

Long legs and sagging purses made me feel like I was drowning in a sea of strangers.  The stampeding masses sounding like nightmarish morasses reminded me of monsters and other things that could go wrong in life.

I remember just sitting on the ground, hoping to be found by someone who could help.  Instead, I was accidentally kicked by those too busy to look around, continuing to shuffle like sheep that baa this way and that, seeking the promising pleasure of consumer goods.

Finally, a man in blue wondered who I was and why I was alone.  His tone was tough, so before he could rough me up like Uncle Jim, I bluffed and said I'd hurt my shin and that mommy was just ahead. 

I jumped to meet her, but accidentally turned toward a dead end.  Now trapped, the man snapped a walkie-talkie off his belt.  I felt the cold pain of my own misdoings bubble up in my belly.  My legs turned to jelly as I felt the welts from so many times before pour back into my mind.  Fearing his firm fists, I pissed my pants and started to cry.

In a final, desperate lie, I told myself that everything was going to be ok. 

Later on, the all-call echoed throughout the mall, beckoning my mother to come retrieve her lost boy.  Like a tossed toy, I sat in a corner wallowing in self-guilt, which had built upon itself throughout the drawn-out day.  There was nothing left to say.

She arrived, dismayed; insisting that I should have stayed by her side.  Half of me wanted to hide away, while the other half grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go.  Like an undertow, I'd been swept far away and was barely saved.

Despite having braved the wild concrete jungle of society, I still felt lost--no longer a child.  Perhaps it was then when I crossed the threshold into a more mature mold of myself.  Forever, my play would hold a hint of awareness for my surroundings. 

The pounding of my heart dissipated as I related what had happened to her and her worried soul.  Her lost foal, finally herded home.  Carrying me to the car, I rested my head on her chest, ending the day better than I would have guessed.

Copyright 2015. JourneyHolm.  All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, January 19, 2017