Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving for life, health, strength and the fact that we are able to smile for a little while.

Thanksgiving for who we were, who we are and for what we're to become to see to be.

Thanksgiving for the birds that without words sing on the wing.

Thanksgiving for the children who play all day only to sleep for the Lord to keep.

Thanksgiving for a summer never to be put asunder, a fall to recall and a winter to enter, leaving spring for the angels to sing.

Thanksgiving for a human race that has grown to want more than a nuclear war.

Thanksgiving for the dutiful mother who teaches her children to yearn to learn.

Thanksgiving for the preacher who is  a teacher who shows us the way to Yahweh.

Thanksgiving for a president who dares to care for all of us to have healthcare.

Thanksgiving for the dedicated doctor who is sure to help us endure with or without a cure.

Thanksgiving for those who stand behind us when others don't and won't.

Thanksgiving for the ingenuity and creativity that we have in all of our activities.

Thanksgiving for his only begotten son who did not stop until his good deeds were done.

Thanksgiving for the prudent student whose dedication is based on the predication of education.

Thanksgiving for the kinship of friendship where those around us help us to wipe away the tears of a frown so that we can smile for a little while.

Thanksgiving for another day that we are able to kneel down to pray and for the opportunity to hear what the Lord has to say.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When being thankful is something on which not to neglect to reflect.

November 29^th, 2013

 



Spok's Wife

Spok's Wife

Just because you've been methodical does not mean that you've been logical.  This court is steeped in confusion and your sense of justice is but an illusion and your politics is but an infusion of confusion.  You seek not proof and you seek not the truth.  Your singular goal is to find me filthy to be guilty and some of you have been paid to put on this charade but too many mistakes have been made and nothing short of  arrogance has been displayed.  So what I've said not once but more than twice is that I did not kill my wife with a knife.

Though swamped in an ocean of emotions I was there to feel her, not to kill her.  Our minds were as one when the deed was done and there was no sense for me to run and so what if you found a gun.  It was meant to have my fingerprints but that does not mean that  I did it and I'm not the one that hid it.  So it is my effort to be acquitted though found in a flood of blood.  This is like a Tholian web to which I've been wed, making it difficult for me to heave to breathe and which makes it even more difficult for me to be believed but why try to lie when it is obvious that I'm going to die?

It is with your last breath that you would sentence me to death but it is not because my wife is dead without a tear to be shed.  It is because she was Romulan and you still feel the jolt from such an insult.  You still feel that the reason is treason and you still feel that I've deplored to have ignored the Vulcan way of life and that it is good that I no longer have a wife.  This I say is the real knife that you use to cut me to gut me to rebut me.  Some of you were even amused at the news.  So here I stand the accused to be but a doomed bride's groom.  Never mind that there was someone else in the room.

Before I go I yell to tell you what I do know!  The Romulan senate was in on it.  Then there's the report sent to this court that we need to abort.  My wife and I were shunned because we were going to have a son, making it your sole goal to institute some kind of birth control so that only the pure would endure.  I have come to be labeled a sickness and you anointed yourself as the cure but you are the scourge that needs to be purged.  So this is why I will continue to fight with all of my might and this is why I will still marry her and this is why I will not let you bury her.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When love is one crime that you should commit to commit.

November 25^th, 2013

 



The Pickering Tree

The Pickering Tree

Everybody including me wants to get up under the pickering tree.  The belief is that if you catch a leaf you can make a wish and then what you want will rain down like Christmas.  None of us can get enough of this.  It's like having fun while being mischievous without being devious.

When the wind begins to blow we all know where to go for our hearts yell to tell us so!  It's like finding the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.  Perhaps only a leprechaun would be alarmed because it can replace any lucky charm.  It only grants wishes of pleasures to be treasured and will inflict no harm and from what I can see cats never get stuck in this tree.

You can even request a bird's nest with which to hear to endear sweet tweets.  You can even request the answers to a test only to yearn to learn to get the grades you earn.  You can even request to fly high in the dye of the sky only to sing on the wing as you soar to explore.  With this tree you can ask for nothing more.  Life is what you begin to adore.  The smell of roses you will never ignore.  You will find that living to be giving is what we are all here for.

It is rooted in all things good and helps us act as we should so I never have a problem knocking on wood.  What I've discerned to learn is that you cannot duck bad luck.  You make your own to do that which you pursue.  Ultimately we determine what we are going to do.  In brief the leaf is a symbol of belief where faith can defeat any wraith.  So soon you come to realize that the pickering tree comes to symbolize the fact that we are at large and in charge.  Our calling is like leaves falling.  The fun is in catching one.

I've come to recall every fall as we enter winter.  The leaves change to rearrange into beautiful colors and hues that captivate you.  In blustery weather they detach and so without a doubt we run out to catch a batch.  I once made a wish to kiss a fish only to come upon a mermaid that puts people in awe of what I saw to draw.  I've come to learn that warm hearts never thaw because loving souls never get cold.  That's why everybody including me wants to get up under the pickering tree.  Every witness has seen every day to be like Christmas.  So when you see the leaves fall catch one just for fun.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When I keep recalling beautiful leaves falling.

November 21^st, 2013

 

 



When It's Hot

When It's Hot

I like it when it's hot and the rain pours all over my whole soul.  It makes me feel so real that I can scarcely sit still.  There's a cleansing in the rinsing that I'm sensuously sensing.  How so I do not know but it makes my blood go like a  hot lava flow.

I like it when it's hot because the heat hits all the right spots that I've got.  My mind drifts and my body's no longer stiff.  It's like I've felt what it is to melt into a soothing oozing of my own choosing.  My wounds heal where there's been a bruising.  I rise like a vapor in a mist that I've kissed and all I want is more of this.

I like it when it's hot because I become fraught with warm thoughts that carry me away into the bliss of yesterday with no worry about tomorrow's sorrows.  I feel that I have more time that I can borrow and from what I can see this was meant to be.  It's like the heat I greet has become a part of me and from what I see this is what it means to be free.

I like it when it's hot because it evaporates all of the moans and groans from my ancient aching bones.  To be sure I've found the ultimate cure and all I have to do is absorb the refractive attractive ripples of waves that heal all that is ill.  It's like heat has some kind of sex appeal.  You don't have to talk to her because she communicates with as much as a touch and I thank her very much.

I like it when it's hot because I'm reminded of hot forget me nots.  It's when roses strike their poignant poses.  It's when the pretzel juxtaposes like a divine grape vine.  It's when the heart beats because it's replete with heat, never stopping in a rhythm that has its own sound with every pound.  I'm reminded that life is all around to be found.  Heat swipes to wipe away the tears of a clown.

I like it when it's hot for I was meant to lie over a heat vent.  The warm soft air pours over my whole soul.  It helps me sleep and it wraps me in a quilt that grandma built.  As I drift away into a land of bliss I will dream of Christmas.  There is no other place like this.  How so I do not know but it makes my blood go like a hot lava flow.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When being hot hits the spot.

November 20^th, 2013
 

 



Emma

Emma

At one time she couldn't walk.  At one time she couldn't talk.  They did nothing to please her and all they did was tease her.  They treated her like a disease that came in from a sneeze in a hot breeze.  She was treated like a void to avoid in that they thought there was nothing there but mangled hair.  When she cried they didn't care.  She lived in a world of deep despair.  There were no apples in her sauce and she was but a goose at which they used to gander.  Often her mind would just meander.

At one time she couldn't feed.  At one time she couldn't read.  They did nothing when her sores would bleed.  They laughed as if she were a gaffe and they even christened her their pet giraffe.  She was once admonished for breaking a carafe.  Never mind who was really drinking the wine.  Never mind what was poured on the floor.  Never mind that she had lost her mind and was simply crawling on the floor because it was what she was looking for.  She looked to be poor and they treated her as if she were rotten to the core.

At one time she couldn't sing.  At one time she couldn't sit on a swing.  They did nothing to help her do her own thing.  They loved taunting the invalid worm that could scarcely squirm.  Once they pinned to her a scarlet letter and even covered her with tar and feathers and then acted as if they didn't know any better.  They did not know that she wrote to God a letter in hopes that they would act a little better.  They did not know that though they tore a hole in her soul that it was filled with goodwill.  They did not know that sometimes she did smile if but for a little while.

At one time she couldn't think.  At one time she couldn't blink.  They would pinch her and then cinch her with a rope of jokes while not caring that it made her choke.  Sometimes all she could do was cry and sometimes all she wanted to do was die.  One day the holy spirit moved and she began to improve.  It was because she was pure that she was able to endure and she had such a delightful demure.  All they wanted to do was to grab her.  All they wanted to do was to stab her.

At one time she couldn't heave.  At one time she couldn't breathe.  They did not want her to live to see what gives but such a desert flower was empowered.  She flourished because she was nourished with courage.  The water from her tears rinsed away her fears and it cleansed the wounds inflicted by the spears of her peers.  There are now apples in her sauce and she is still the goose at which they gander.  She feels free as her mind meanders.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When the meek aren't necessarily weak.

November 18^th, 2013

 

 



Ballroom Gown

Ballroom Gown

I will never regret the day our eyes met.  She had on a ballroom gown that could remove any frown.  She had a refined mind that had the taste of wine.  She was a soul that strolled.  There was elegance in her presence.  She proceeded unimpeded to whatever whim with which she chose to swim.  About her swells tales of dragon tails, merry fairies and a prince she's about to marry.  She was but a blossomed cheery.  Sweet songs sang the canary.

She was poised for noise and yet silent in thought.  I found myself staring at her and I didn't care if I got caught.  She saw me too and then we both knew that there was an ambiance and a chance for a dance and perhaps a chance for romance.  Her beauty hit me like an avalanche and I was glad to have been bowled over to have been rolled over by such a boulder.  I came to know that she was like snow.  She was a pristine queen that I had never before seen.   She was a picture whose thousand words did not have to be spoken to be heard and I listened as she glistened.

If I could and I should I reach for the Big Dipper to fashion it into a glass slipper just for her to wear, just for her to be there and just for others to stare.  Lovely is her hair.  Crisp is the night air.  She's like an effervescent moon that makes me swoon.  Now I know why the peacock croons.  Now I know why the eagle flies high in the sky and now I know to whom I must go.  In a blur it is her.  She is why my heart has begun to purr.  She is why the world swirls.  She is why there are beautiful pearls.  She is why doves cry and she is why I must give love a try.

She's like a lovely stream that flows down into my dreams.  She makes my jagged edges smooth and she makes steady my turbulent eddies.  In her I have seen what is serene.  If only I could have her for my queen.  Surely such a princess would think me to be possessed.  It's all I can do not to make things a mess.  It's all I can do to look at such a beautiful dress and wonder how she found such a beautiful gown.  Does she know that she can reverse any frown?  Does she know why I bashfully stand around?  Does she know what a diamond I've found?

I will never regret the day our eyes met.  I will never regret the day she found that gown.  I will never regret the day the sunset, not when the night was so bright with such a beautiful sight.  She is by far the brightest star, the shiniest pearl and the merriest of any blossomed cheery.  She is the one that I'm going to marry and sweet songs sings the canary,

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When the chance to dance is all about romance.

November 15^th, 2013

 

 



The Perfect Eclipse

The Perfect Eclipse

I think it's divine how she shines.  It's not just her hips.  It's not just her lips.  It's just that she makes for the perfect eclipse.  She blocks out the sun just for fun just so that I can perhaps see it to be it.  She has a coronal view that will enrapture you.  She is a sight to see that will set your mind free.  It is something special that she does to me.

Hypnotic is such a narcotic that spreads bliss with a kiss.  It's like she will grant you your every wish.  She makes for my favorite dish.  I love to taste her face.  She just walks right into my crawlspace.  She is meant to be of a tint so as to paint a star just so you can see where you are.  Some think of her as a dragon that has eaten the disc.  Such is the mistress of mischief who loves to play all day.  She turns out the light so as to brighten the night.  In full view she will swoon you to moon you.

I don't care as I stare at the glare.  All I want to know is that she's there.  She provides for a crispness in the air that I heave to breathe.  She's like an undercover lover that's slipped up under the covers.  She provides for a solar ballet that needs no  improvement in its movement.  She can make you feel that time stands still.  She has a dazzling sex appeal.  When you see her you will wonder if she's real.  She's like a goddess who makes you want to kneel but you don't pray to her.  You stay with her for in the greeting of the meeting you come to know that her presence is fleeting.  Do you feel your heart beating?

Understand to admire her while you can for the shadow of the moon will leave soon.  Melodic is the tune of her galactic dance.  She puts me in a trance.  Every time I see her it's the start of a romance.  To kiss her is to miss her.  When she leaves you will not shun the sun.  You become enlightened as the day again brightens.  Your memory of her will never decay.  She has an aurora that will never go away.  Her lasting impression chases away depression and if she could she would make you always feel good.  She's the sight to see that  makes me full of glee.

I think it's divine how she shines.  She's the reason why I'm able to see.  She's the reason my heart's been seasoned with a kiss always to be reminisced.  She's the reason for a Christmas season.  It's all there in the glare of her stare in which I'm reminded of the colors of her hair.  She is my personal solar flare.  Crisp is the air.  She is why my mind is free.  She is the perfect eclipse to see.  It is something special that she does to me.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When in the darkness there is light, making for a beautiful sight.

November 9^th, 2013

 

 



On Time

On Time

One concept that in and of itself has always persisted to have existed is time.  Before no other it always has and always will be.  It in itself is infinity.  It is the eternal concept in which all things are, have been and will be.  It is not something to be created.  It is there whether or not you are aware.  There will always be time to spare.  It's just a matter of how long you can live to see what gives.

Scientists say that its soul can be controlled by a black hole.  They do not see that this cannot be.  It has no fabric to etch to stretch.  It does not stop because the hands on a clock no longer move in a groove.  It is a characteristic.  It is the ultimate actor who is universal without rehearsal.  It does not speed up and it does not slow down and it is not like a wristwatch that needs to be rewound and it is not like a trinket that has been lost never to be found.  It's always around.

Time is a divine pantomime that does not move backward and it does not move forward.  It is the unchanging variable no matter what event occurs when it occurs or how it occurs to change to rearrange.  It's like a pocket that never has loose change.  There is no traveling back in time for it is only present in tense momentarily with which to move into what was the future.  The past is but a photograph in which to look in an old dusty book.  There is no paradox with which to meet to greet yourself when you were here because you are no longer there.  The rock has skipped across the water.  The sun has set.  What you have to look forward to is what hasn't happened yet.

Time can exist without space.  It doesn't occupy any of it.  There is no jar to put it in to every scientists' chagrin.  When you measure it you're actually measuring a concept with which to provide yourself a frame of reference with which to do what you can before you kick the can.  Without a sun how many hours are in a day?  Does this question hold you in dismay?  How long does it take for a tooth to decay?  How was the universe built this way?

All's well that ends well and only time will tell the tale.  It is universal without rehearsal.  It is the first concept and the only one that will never be undone.  What truly ticks is only the device that attempts to measure it.  There is nothing that it is composed of for it to be disposed of.  It is a characteristic that has always persisted to have existed.  There is plenty to spare because it its always there.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When there is one thing you will never see that will always be.

November 3^rd, 2013