Do not teach me hate

Posted on May 26, 2022 by admin

 

Do not teach me hate

DO NOT TEACH ME HATE

 

H. W. Bryce

 

Do not t each me hate,

Hate is too much work;

It drains my mind,

Wounds my spirit,

And all for no good return.

 

For hate begets hate

and erases my better self.

I want to live, not destroy,

There is far too much at stake.

 

Hate takes but a moment to build into a rage,

And I don’t want to live with the guilt.

Hate takes but a moment to destroy

Everything that you have built.

 

So do not teach me how to hate,

For hate kills all that’s good.

No good ever came from out of hate,

Many have tried, but no one ever could.

 

Do not teach me how to hate,

For hate always cancels love.

Do not take temptation’s evil bait,

The gain lies always within that love.

 

So do not teach me hate,

For I am but a gentle soul,

So let me state and then restate,

Do not use your hate so as to control.

 

For hate is a killer that never stops to blink,

And hate takes but a moment to flare;

Take that moment instead to think,

Take that moment to stop and take that dare.

 

—H. W. Bryce

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Ylium – A dream continuum

Posted on April 27, 2022 by admin

 

Ylium pic

YLIUM

Grn mini comp Feb 5-22 – …………

A dream continuum

 

Yay and I shall walk into the fields of Ylyium

Where grow the blessed fruits of love

Among the flowers of compassion and of

Brotherhood, and Everlasting Joy, and I shall

Wear their petals and fly with the birds of

Hope to spread the seeds of Understanding,

 

And I shall walk through the tall grasses

Of Everlasting Peace, in the Fields of Ylium,

And when I walk through the sunset,

I shall live with Poets.

 

Yay, and when I walk through the

Underbrush of doubt, I shall sweep away

Consternation, and we shall all live

As one nation in moderation sans all the

Hate and aggression and want and greed

And imbalance, for there, in Ylium, thrives

The commendments of civility and loyalty,

For it is there, in Ylium, that lives grace

And the sharing of the profundity of Life,

 

And all the secrets of life,

Secrets that elude us mere mortals, so busy

With our own little existences that we miss

The glory of living, the joys of sharing, the

warmth of caring, even the thrill of daring

to trust our own kind when, after all, we are

all of a kind, and kind is the root of kindness,

and kindness is the path to the prosperity of

Humanity in full bloom.

 

Yay, and we shall inherit the best of the Earth

In communion with the fulfilment of the best

Of our dreams, and we shall learn the best of

Each other in love and protection,

 

For in truth, are we not all joined at the hip?

 

Yay, and we shall all walk hand in hand in

Peace, there, in the land of Ylium.

 

—H. W. Bryce

— —

At the other end of this contiuum lives nightmares and Chaos.

We do not wish to go there.

There lives the russian war. And all evil.

 

IMAGE: Yay, and we shall all live as one, there, in Ylium

Image by Altmann from Pixabay

Pixabay License

Free for commercial use
No attribution required

Posted in A Voice in the Wilderness, Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Caring, Celebration, Dreams, Poem | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

My Jesus Poems

Posted on April 20, 2022 by admin

 

My Jesus Poems - Scratchboard

My Jesus Poems
Apparently written in Istanbul, Dec 1963
In a letter forwarded by little sister Marjorie, Feb, 2013.

 

Reposted for Easter 2022, Apr 15

I Stood Where Jesus Stood

I stood where Christ stood,
I sat within His cell;
And at the Garden Rock
I felt His sad tears well.
I knelt before the Pillar,
His only friend when whipped;
I brooded in the Judgement Room
And felt how cheaply He’d been gypped.
I walked His road to Calvary,
And felt the weight that was His cross,
And I learned humility
On a path that had been blocked.
I kissed the star that marks the spot
Where my Saviour died,
And emotions filled me, oh, so full,
No strength remained even to have cried.
I dropped my brow on Jesus’ tomb,
Too confused to pray;
But then, like Him, I rose again,
My role in life to play.

— — —

Sunset Over Jerusalem

O’er Jerusalem the sun sets e’er in blood,
As though the Christ were dying still,
A rosy fire illuminates the hill,
A constant flow of Calvary flood.

For as long as Arab faces Jew
Each with safety catch uncocked,
And brother’s way to brother
By infamous wall is blocked,
Sunset brimstone hangs with fire
To spread aflame once more
A Sodom and Gomnorrah
By an angry God twice pricked and sore.

O’er Jerusalem the sun sets e’er in blood,
As though the Christ were dying still,
A rosy fire illuminates the hill,
A constant flow of Calvary flood.

— —
I wrote My Jesus poems while waiting for our money to arrive, mailed them off in the endless letters I wrote on our travels “circumnavigating the Med,” and forgot about them. It was most unexpected when my sister mailed them to me. Poor Middle East.
Happy Easter everybody.

Posted in Caring, Friendship, Grief, Hope, Jesus, Memories, Mystery, Peace, Poetry, Remembrance | Tagged Blogging 101, Caring, Hope, Jesus, Love, Remembrance, War and Peace | Leave a comment | Edit

To the Copts: A String Poem

Posted on April 14, 2017 by admin

TO THE COPTS: A STRING POEM

This being Easter and only a few short days since terrorists bombed two Coptic churches in Egypt, I want to share an experience I had there many years ago. It speaks of brotherhood and universal love, much needed elements today.

I wrote this string poem in open style, rather than in my usual rhyming formats. I didn’t feel that these unsettled times and that hideous act of terror deserved rhyme.

It is written that St. Mark founded the Coptic church about 42 AD. It is also written that it just may have been the very first christian church…

“The Egyptian Church, which is more than 1,900 years old, and most likely the oldest Christian church in the world, traditionally believed to be founded by St Mark at around AD 42, …”

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Ode to the Rifle

Posted on April 10, 2022 by admin

 

ODE TO THE RIFLE

 

O ye instrument of death,

A thing of beauty to behold,

We owe you an everlasting debt,

 

The one you serve now

—for the Good,

 

Now that you are broken.

 

–H. W. Bryce

 

Image: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/556546466443006282/

 

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This Won’t Last

Posted on April 7, 2022 by admin

This won't last - pic

THIS WON’T LAST

 

H. W. Bryce

 

For Deborah Klein-DeJong’s photo-painting

This Won’t Last

 

The acid rain of vitriolic speech

Falls down upon us, one and each,

The angry fist now pummels cheek,

It often picks upon the weak,

But pain can be endured, I teach,

And peace will come because you reach

And all the pain will go, although perhaps not fast,

Because this acid rain can never stay. This Won’t Last!

 

These troubles down on Trouble Street,

Where depression and despair both meet,

Where drugs and smokes and fear entertain

At the crossroads of Lost Avenue and Main,

Where Happiness and Hope are ever banned,

And every plan that was ever planned

Is lost and never to be found…but hark!

A distant sound comes near, saying never fear, This Won’t Last!

 

This won’t last, this fear, this being lost,

Life will endure, no matter what the cost,

We will return, we still will thrive

And we will    live life full alive

Because these troubles cannot last.

We’ll relegate them to the grave called Past.

I know because the die is cast.

The gods in heaven say, This Won’t Last!

 

The faded rose of hope will die inside the falling rain,

But storms do blow themselves right out, the gain

Is in the calm that follows on, for hope and will will rise,

Because this won’t last, no trouble can, life can and will surprise.

 

For all of those in this dystopian disease,

Living in the cloak of deep despair with never any ease

But for the carers, this won’t last, and peace at last

For the sufferers, for their seat in Heaven’s cast

In gold and set before their God, because, This Won’t Last!

 

 

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I was happy

Posted on April 1, 2022 by admin

 

I WAS HAPPY

©H. W. Bryce

I was happy, up there, all was calm.

I had a good job, I felt fulfilled.

My wife was happy, too, with our new

son. We wanted for nothing, up there.

 

Down here, it is dark, and deathly

silent. The time drags on with nothing

to do but rest. I thought I would go

to Heaven when I died, but I shot

people…

 

People when they opened fire and now

I must wait, down here, for the train to

Purgatory, to be debriefed. I don’t

remember the shot that killed me…

 

I heard the medic say it tore out my

heart. I heard a padre say I wouldn’t

need a heart in Heaven, I would have

my soul, and that would be my passport

 

into Heaven. He said my wife was safe.

The corporal said as he carried me

out of the square where the rocket

took out the memorial of peace,

 

that the line was holding the tanks at bay,

that our flag was still flying. I am glad

for that. I was happy, up there, seeing

our sacred flag flying so high and brave.

 

As I lay here, still dying, I pray for

my son, that he will not have to see war.

 

I was happy, up there. Why did death

send rockets to tear us all apart?

https://pixabay.com/fr/photos/ukraine-drapeau-banni%c3%a8re-paix-ciel-7044827/

I was happy - pic

Blogged Apr 1, 2022

 

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Where Lies Peace

Posted on March 29, 2022 by admin

 

Where lies peace - pic

Where Lies Peace

BLOGGED MAR 28, 2022

©H. W. Bryce

 

Where lies peace, we constantly demand.

Do not go eager to another war,

We hold the peace in the palm of our hand.

 

Though revenge and jealousy are close at hand,

We crave, we talk, we recommend and more,

Where lies peace, we constantly demand.

 

We worship money, answer its command,

In the fight for it, we become a whore.

We hold the peace in the palm of our hand.

 

It’s alway peace or war for evermore!

Do not let the wartime bands stir your core.

Where lies peace, we constantly demand.

 

We ever pray for peace within our land,

The answer lies within our hearts, in store,

We hold the peace in the palm of our hand.

 

Will we ever learn to shake each other’s hand

For gentle ways, respect, dignity and more?

Where lies peace, we constantly demand.

 

We hold the peace in the palm of our hand.

We hold the peace in the palm of our hand.

 

— —

–Written several years ago. circa May 2019

 

 

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