Knock Knock

 

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: The Late Beloved Mr. Magic Moo the talking cat...I...

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: The Late Beloved Mr. Magic Moo the talking cat...I...:

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: Wicked Game by Hauser on his wicked cello....omg

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: Wicked Game by Hauser on his wicked cello....omg:

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: Slow Dancing With You

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: Slow Dancing With You: I See Your Face Before Me I'll Close My Eyes The Very Thought Of You And I Love You So Rainy Night in Georgia ...

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: HIS MOUTH

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: HIS MOUTH: His Mouth His mouth Fascinates my eyes Draws them there against their will, Captures them, taunts them, holds them ...

Don't Nobody Love Ya

 

Don’t Nobody Love Ya
.
.
.
Don’t nobody love ya
When you down and out
Don’t nobody want ya
When you can’t give ‘em nothin' back
Don’t nobody need ya
When all you got is an empty hand.
.
Nah, they don’t see ya, man
Hangin' back in the shadows, waitin’
Heck, they don’t even see ya standing in the sunshine
If you holdin’ a beggin’ bowl
You not even a man to them
All you is, is a bag o’bones in a dirty shirt.
.
All of ya’ll is invisible, you hear me?
A buncha homeless nobodies carrying ya home on your backs
Little bags of stuff nobody else want
Little bits of trash and treasure to decorate the alleyways
And you think you gots it made
‘Cause you got more trash than others.
.
They call ya homeless
And they jump back like they gonna catch somethin’
Sometimes they even cross the street to avoid ya
See how they look at you?
Look at that fear in their eyes
And can’t you just taste that bad taste in they mouths?
.
Ain’t they somethin’?
They, with their fancy shoes
And roofs over they heads?
Hurryin’, hurryin’ here and there
Like they got somewheres to go
And especially away from you.
.
What they don’t know, like you know, like I know
Is that tomorrow, in the blink of an eye
They could lose them pretty shoes
And those cozy little roofs
And be out here walking these here mean streets
No better off than you.
.
The man, he giveth and he taketh away
He smile in your face and make you promises like a holy man
And you run to his shelter and stick out your hands
And he backs off and looks at ya, puzzled
Like you s’post to know he was just lyin’
Like you s’post to know it all just a game.
.
But you know what?
All them rich folks, them high and mighty and shady and greedy
They know somethin’ you all don’t know
They know that the rich gonna keep getting richer
And the poor gonna keep gettin’ poorer
‘Cause they gonna take all you got and you gonna give ‘em the rest.
.
‘Cause ya’ll just sheep
And they is your shepherds
Not good shepherds, mind you
‘Cause they don’t give a damn about you all
They don’t care if you die or cry or live out in the rain
And they damn sure don’t feel your pain.
.
But you know what?
One of these days all their houses gonna all fall down
A big ole crash, a big ole ka-Boom
And it’ll all be gone, like that!
And where they all gonna be, then?
Out here on these streets, walkin’ like zombies.
.
Nah, I’ll tell you the truth if ya got a mind to hear it
One day all them people out around the fire barrels
All them homeless, hungry people
They gonna stand up, raise their fists and they gonna say:
We want our homes back! We want our country back! 

We want our freedom back!
And there’s gonna be a horde 

Of homeless angry people marching like an army.
.
I can’t wait to see that day, can you?
Say, man, ya got a little sumpin-sumpin left in that bottle?
Any more of that soup left over there?
It sure is cold out here tonight, ain’t it?
We all gotta stick together if we gonna survive
Yeah, don’t nobody love you if you down and out.
.
We down and out now
But you just wait
You just wait………………
I already hear them high rises fallin’
And those golden bulls crashin’
And them rich shepherds startin’ to scream.
Come on now boys, let’s sing us a little bit a
“We shall overcome……we shall overcome…. someday……
Lawd, have mercy, shore ’nuff we is
Someday, someday, someday…..we gonna be some overcomin’ fools……
Boy, I tell you what!!!!
.
.

   

©by Voo
Nov 24, 08
8:20 p.m.

Space Weaver

 

put on full screen...oh my goodness!!!!

Astronauts And Ancient Dreams

 

                                               Valley of the Moon...Lisa Gerrard

 Astronauts And Ancient Dreams

On the dark side of the moon

We built a snowman out of dust

And watched dead rockets flying by

In waves of antiquated rust.

Travelling through the universe

We'd tired of outer space

And went to rest upon the rock

To touch the moon man's face.

We bounded down to craters

And jumped up to the stars

Spread our picnic on the ground

And made our plans for Mars.

For we were growing lonely

For the sights and scenes of home

Though the planet was deserted

And all the ones we loved... long gone.

Just you and I, for centuries now

Survived to man the ship

To go where no one has gone before

On a thousand different trips.

But we are tired, so very tired

Of sailing through the black

And we are longing for red soil

And dream of going back.

The face there of your father's father

The fallen statue lain

It begs us to return and raise

It to it's feet again.

That Earth would know our story

Stare in silenced shock and gulp

To lay the myths at last to rest

When that ancient one stands up.

It will be our last great mission

To restore those ruins and soon

And we sigh in unison with a million stars

On the dark side of the moon.

©by Voo

July 26, 07

midnight

Incident On A Thursday Afternoon

 

Incident On A Thursday Afternoon 

                      

                                                                                 

So this little punk walks in

To the Ivory Gardens Tea Room

Where myself and fifteen of my closest friends 

And monied members

Meet for tea and french pastries

Every Thursday afternoon since

The love of my life and youth had left me

Some nine years earlier

Due to death and not, I'm sure

Because he wanted to.

"Listen up, Grandmas!" he bellowed

And waved a wicked looking dagger

In the faces of my stunned and interrupted friends

"I want all your cash, your credit cards

Your life savings and family heirloom jewelry

And I want 'em put in this Royal Crown purple liquor bag

And I want 'em right now, right this minute 

Or there's gonna be hell to pay!"

Everything went dead silent and into slow motion

And my long and interesting life flashed before my eyes

In an odd fifteen seconds or so

As I thought about it later on, I'm pretty sure 

That everyone else's did, too

Even those with extremely boring lives.

One could surmise by observation that the man

(If he could be called that) was a junkie in need 

Of whatever they needed these days and did not care

About subsequent heart attacks or epileptic fits

Or fainting spells that used to be called "the vapors"

In the deep, deep South where I was born and raised

He wanted money and he thought us easy prey

The elderly rich with nothing else to do but sit around in our finery.

"Now, see here, young man," I started and stood to my feet

While my mortified group of widowed women friends gasped

And hid their thin and undefined mouths behind stained napkins

"How dare you come in here and accost the cream of society?

Fine upstanding people who have never spoken to you or done you harm?

Have you no shame? Where is the mother who raised you?

And the father who taught you manners in your youth?

Do not you know your Father in Heaven is watching you

And disapproving and ashamed of your behavior?"

"My father ain't in Heaven!" he sneered

"And if he was, it's only because he came in through

The basement window and knocked the angels unconscious!"

Momentarily at a loss, I stood there and cast about for ideas

The thirty or so attending patrons were already digging into designer bags

And brief cases looking for money and tugging on old and wrinkled fingers

To remove rings and unscrewing costly, time worn estate sale earrings

(Yes, they used to screw on!) from ears that could barely hear the demands.

Jewelry was flung at the scoundrel and chaos ensued as Elmina fainted

And fell at his feet in a graceful heap of lavender and lace and old money

I was used to Elmina fainting and was not so alarmed at that

As at the dagger now pointing at my ample chest and the rage

Of the twenty something thug directed at my person.

"Give me the cash, Blue Hair!" he snarled and lunged forward

As I stepped back and the females in the Tea Room oohed in unison

"No, I shall not! "I said defiantly and straightened my back as best I could

And met his reddened eyes

He looked shocked. Then frightened. Then amused.

"Got a death wish, do ya, Old Folks? I can help fulfill that for ya!

You rich old biddies with your holier-than-thou attitudes!

Who do you think you are? Give me that money, you senior citizen

I don't got all day! Give me that purse! Where are your diamonds?

Hell, write me a check for all I care! Give me the credit cards! Hurry up!"

As Chairman of the Ladies Club and President and Founder 

Of the Society to Protect and Preserve the Old Ways 

I felt the need to show myself strong in the eyes of this effrontery

Now before me and to stand as a beacon in the face of the dissolution

Of those old and cherished ways.

I was after all, held in high esteem by my friends and community

And I had never backed down (just ask my late husband)

From a confrontation or disagreement (especially about money)

Or the terrible handling of it and the wasting of it on gambling or such

And I would not do so now in the presence of my peers.

Lost in reflection, I had no time to grab my handbag from the chair

Before our ragged and red haired robber snatched it away and howled with glee

"Let's see." he said, pointing the dagger with one hand

And opening the purse with the other.

And all my little everyday treasures went spilling out

Onto the table among the broken teacups and cake crumbs

Pawing through my things with dirty fingers, he scowled

Thumbed through my membership cards and photo albums

And threw them over his shoulder.

"Alright, High Society, where's the money?" he screamed

And my empty wallet went flying as everyone stared in amazement

"Where are the cards? The checks? Your bank deposit slips?

C'mon, GrandMaMa, I don't have all day! I got people to see

Places to be! Aha!"

 And his face lit up with a demented kind of joy 

As he pulled the pale yellow piece of paper out of it's hidden compartment.

"What's this? A receipt? Hmm. Let's have a look. Oh, looky here, looky here!"

And my face fell and I began to tremble because he had uncovered my shame

And the proof that I was not all that I pretended to be

"Alberto's Pawn Shop," he read aloud, "Paid to Mrs. La-Di-Da-So-and So....

$250.00 for one eighteen carat wedding band and one matching engagement ring

With three big old diamonds! Mmm. Mmm. Mmm."

And the chaos in the Tea Room hushed and I heard the intake of breath

In fifteen elderly bosoms and felt the eyes of all those who had known me

For half my life turn and question me in puzzled judgmental silence

What did they know!

 I had played my part well of a wealthy and respected

Society matron, the wife of a beloved and respected physician

Who had secretly lost all his money at the casinos and had the gall

To pass away without telling me what to do

I had sacrificed, gone without, lived meagerly and in secret shame

Haunted the poorer side of town, even, dare I say it? Looking for....cans

To finance my Thursdays at the Ivory Gardens.

And now this humiliation, this sting, this exposure at the hands of a hoodlum

"Pawn Shop patron!" the delighted criminal sang. "You're poorer than me!

You ain't got nuthin but your d-i-g-n-i-t-y!! Ain't that something?

Sold your wedding rings, did ya? How you gonna get 'em back?

Won't me to loan you some money? Here, I got plenty!"

And he thrust a fistful of stolen cash into my reddened face

Threw back his head and laughed

"Here, here's a tip for the limo driver, I'll tell one of 'em to wait for you

When I leave here. He can drive you to the shelter!"

(And it was true, there were several limos parked outside

(None of which were mine.)

"Let me have that mink coat. What's a bag lady like you

Doing with a fur coat? You old hoity toity hypocrite!"

And he reached forward and speared my cherished mink coat

With the dagger, cut a big hole in it and threw it on the floor

"What now, Old Woman?" he sneered. "Ain't so brave now, are ya?"

Well, that was it. That was all. The final straw. The breaking point

The end of the matter. The I- didn't- care- anymore

I cleared my throat, wiped my moist eyes and reached down

Into the bodice of the last new dress I had bought

Some ten years before, pulled out the pearl handled 22 caliber

And shot him dead.

Then, before the stunned and silent congregation of former 

And never again friends and ex members of the now defunct

And disbanded Society For The Preservation of the Old Ways,

I picked up my tattered and soiled mink memento of days gone by,

Marched out through the door of the Ivory Gardens Tea Room,

Past the waiting limousines with their bored, uniformed drivers

Thumbing through PlayBoys with one eye on the mirror.

I nodded good day to the door man of the hotel next door,

Stepped off the curb and crossed the street toward home

As usual, on foot, but this time not looking furtively behind me

To see if anybody noticed.

Stopping to admire my wedding rings in the window of the pawn shop

I sighed a bit and then on impulse went inside

And bought them back with the money that had been flung at me earlier

Money I had gathered unto myself, almost without being aware of it.

Happily I slipped them on my naked fingers and kissed them hello

Tore up the pale yellow receipt and threw the bits to wind

A kind of revenge, if you will

Then I hurried down the street on aged but wiser feet

The events of the day already dimming in my memory.

No longer caring about my lost reputation but for what I had regained,

I walked on toward my lonely but well kept three story brownstone

Humming a quiet southern melody in a noisy northern city

And with my head held high.

 

                          

©by Voo

March 9, 07 

1 a.m. 

Laurie Anderson....fascinating person, incredible artist

 

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: KNOCKING DOWN THE WALLS

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: KNOCKING DOWN THE WALLS:                                                     Knocking Down the Walls When I was born, They didn't know what...

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: DON'T LET THEM TAKE YOU TO ROOM 101

The Blue Vineyard Of Voo Shining Stone: DON'T LET THEM TAKE YOU TO ROOM 101:                                       ...........  music by  NatureWorld 1986.......                                    ...

Time Traveler In a World Without Time....pages from my diary written in an interplanetary asylum

 

Time Travel

by Daley

Time Traveler

                In A World Without Time

The plane set down in 1957

A Friday morning on a cold wet day

Even though I had left the day before on a warm dry Sunday night

And the sun had been shining for four months in Spitsbergen.

I was rather sleepy, having not slept

For twenty-two minutes or so

And my yawns sounded somewhat musical

In a braying donkey kind of hee haw way.

Peter Cushing was starring in the movie

They'd been showing on board, I remembered

Some horrible thing called a horror movie

No, that's not right, it was a terrible film

And it was silent. (Except for all the snoring.)

As a matter of fact, there had been

No in-flight movie of any kind that night

Only a couple of Saturday Evening Posts

And Photo Play magazines, muchly thumbed through.

I hailed a Black and Purple taxicab

That took me to my hotel, some modernistic thing

Called The Holiday Out

Where no one with even half a reputation would stay.

There were hardly any doors to speak of

Only thin slits in the bricks to squeeze through

And after you'd lost ten pounds in the effort

You found yourself, confusingly, somewhere outside Marrakesh

In 1965.

65???  What? I hadn't even been born yet!

Or had I? My mother hadn't told me, you see

Any details about that happy occasion

Or if, indeed it had been happy or if it had even happened at all.

I just seemed to wake up one morning

And there I was. Yawning.

Wearing soft white pajamas with little giraffes on them

Mysteriously holding an orange object that could have been a ball.....

Or an orange.

But enough about me. I'm a boring subject

The really interesting people are all in there

(In the places you come out of when you realize

You're in the wrong place)

I've met a few characters in there, believe me!

The bi-polar clown, the man with no heart,

The invisible woman who could only be seen

In the glow of the full moon,

The song that sang itself.

I rode through the desert on a horse

With no.......

Name? Yeah, that's it. No name. Or saddle.      Ouch!

Time travel can really be tiresome at times

Especially if you are travelling in the time before Time

Or before Timex watches 

('Cause Grandfather Clocks were just too big to carry around.)

It's always 4:30 when there is no Time to be told

I forget who told me that. Oh, now I remember!

A chap in a porkpie hat selling pork pies in Trafalgar Square

He wore a bowtie and short pants but only one shoe

(Probably because he only had one leg)

Ah, yes! The porkpie guy. Rupert Something.

In between times, you can't laugh

No matter how funny something is,

You can only weep

Bizarre, really, but no more bizarre than most things

I've experienced on those invisible pathways.

There's a very tall building in one realm....get this.... 

With absolutely nothing in it but seesaws

And unadorned Christmas trees

Looking for presents to hover over.

But December never comes there

That month is totally skipped over

No December 25ths at all

You go directly from Thanksgiving turkey 

To New Year's Day hangovers. Or thereabouts.

In one place, it was continually Halloween

And in another, it was always the day after tomorrow

Bankers in thousand dollar suits scrubbed floors

And poor people counted money.

I quite enjoyed that.........

(I was poor, you see)

I was always bloody poor

No matter what time period I ended up in 

(And I was always looking for french fries.)

I fell in and out of love several times, I recall

But always with the same fellow, oddly enough

He, too, was a time traveler stuck in a rut

Between here and there and he always carried a Polaroid camera

Heaven knows where he got his film!

We spent three glorious weeks in a library once

Camped out in the stacks, perusing books of all kinds

Trying desperately to figure out 

What the proverbial "Birds and the Bees" scenario was all about.

We had hitched a time warp back to that awkward age

When we were both going through and pushing past puberty

But without embarrassed parents to tell us 

What it was that we needed to know but did not know

We found books with ghastly pictures that implied

That babies came from a boy/girl conjunction but we were dubious.

By the time we had  figured it out and got caught doing it

We were kicked out of said library by a cross and startled librarian

Who appeared to be from a seventeenth century nunnery

Even though she was wearing a Fitbit and sole-less shoes.

Once, we had a mere fifteen minutes together

It was in Paris and we were drinking frozen wine

At some little outdoor café called Vin Congele´

(It was very romantic but it was January and twenty below.)

We never knew where we would run into one another

Or if we would or how or when or why

Time travel is a game of chance, a draw of the cards

And often not exactly a pleasant experience

If you haven't gotten over that quarrel during your last encounter.

The most bizarre I suppose, took place in 1849 in the wild Wild West

When I found myself coming out of a teepee clutching a tomahawk

While my love, a sexy and disheveled cowboy, lay staked down to an ant hill

Begging for mercy and a Bud Light.

I will not tell you how that turned out

Neither will I recount several centuries of incidents

That will either turn you against me

Or make you fall madly in love. Maybe both.

Oh, look! A squirrel!!!

Let's just say that the Earth looks pretty from Mars

And that there is one planet out there

Totally inhabited by women that look exactly like me

(Except they are blue and speak in a Swahili/Russian dialect

 They giggle a lot and wear bikinis made entirely from their own hair.

Perhaps I should end this saga here, my faithful readers er.... reader

And take the tale up again when you have digested everything thus far

And wrapped your mind around the incongruity of it all

And when you are sober............or sane

©by Voo Shining Stone, Poet, Writer

And Involuntary Time Traveler

In the year 2020

(possibly)

(probably)

(They told me there would be a year like this

somewhere in the future) So yeah.....this must be the year

It's so 2020-ish

Proof of Time Travel, ya'll.... Peter Dinklage Uh huh.

👀😝

But just wait for 2021!!!!!!

It shall be 7000 days and 18 nights long!!!!!

KFC will run out of rubber chickens,

the cows will all become bulls

White Castle hamburgers will be re-named

something less offensive,

donkeys will run wild in the streets

and there shall be no ....uh....

no....uh......

Um. Nothing. There shall be nothing..................

The Song In My Eyes

 

The Song In My Eyes

The violin cries

And I catch each tearful note

In my outstretched listening hands

There they lay, sparkling like diamonds

Dazzling like dewdrops, sharp as swords

And healing like the potion of a medicine man.

I drink in the music

And let it fill me, overfill me, drown me

In it's beauty and heartbreak

A tidal wave of motion and emotion

That sweeps me clean of pain and sand

And deposits joy there on my empty shore.

The musician pauses, bow in midair

And I voicelessly scream "No!"

And will him to continue playing until I am spent

Dissolved in tears and filled once more with hope.

Hope that only beauty discovers

And beauty fills

The violin cries and the song in my eyes

Is composed, is played, is shared, is done.

by Voo

Copyright ©2007

You Can Leave Your Hat On.....yes, yes, yes!

 

somewhere there is a video of me dancing to this.......um....yes. .with a hat

Dream Lovers

Dreamin' bout you
by Prince

Dream Lovers


You were my dream lover
And you loved me in my dreams
But we could not hold onto that
In reality it seems.

For love here in reality
Is a hard, hard game to play
And people run away from love
And almost never stay.

And I don't know why that is so
Or why it's always been
It's almost like true love's a crime
And wanting it's a sin.

People using people
Is now societal norm
Discarding them when they're of no use
From the moment they are born.

And yet inside each human heart
Is the burning need to know
The touch of love, not knowing that
Love needs our love to grow.

So people hide in shadows
And lurk at love's closed doors
Watching for love to open up
With welcome mats on it's floors.

But rarely does that closed door open
No matter how long you wait
For love's as frightened of you out there
As you are scared of it's fate.

And most of us, from youth to old age
Sit in darkened rooms alone
In a house that we have built ourselves
That will never be a home.

We live in virtual reality
That will never be a fact
Clinging to CGI people on screens
That will never love us back.

I don't think God made this world this way
Nor did He desire us thus
To live in lonely isolation
With no happiness or trust.

He made us to need one another
He made us need the things others have got
He made us to share the uniqueness we have
With other sad seeking souls that have not.

But you and I, we never met
On this lonely, orbiting rock
We waited inside our own closed doors
On which love just wouldn't knock.

Instead we dreamed ourselves a love
That visited at night
And who loved and lived in astral realms
But at dawn, kept out of sight.

And that sufficed for a span of time
But never truly satisfied
The hungry hearts inside of us
Who screamed at us and cried.

For something real that they could feel
To hold there in our hand
Not fiction, fantasy or film
But a real woman, a real man.

But we held onto what we had found
Just as passionately as we could
For fantasy was all that we had
And that dream world was safe and good.

Until the day came that we awoke
And could never sleep again
Till we embraced reality
And took it's hated hand.

And it led us out into the sun
And showed us skies above
Showed us life and all it's woes
And told us to look for love.

Not love in fairy story books,
Not love on movie reels
Not love in songs that just end wrong
But love that hurts and heals.

So we walked away from dreamland
Into the waiting arms of others
Who've longed for flesh and blood people to come
And take the place of their dream lovers.

And though we may not ever meet
And it may not ever seem
That we were true, I did love you
In the world that was a dream.

©By Voo
July 22, 2019
10:15 p.m.

Dreamsome

                                                                                                                                You Are The Dream

I've got dreams to remember
Michael Grimm

 

BROKEN ARROW

Broken Arrow

"I don't want to fight with you,"

He said as he drew near

"These fights are tearing me apart

And they're drowning you in tears."

"I don't know why you cannot see

And why you cannot feel

The love I have for you alone

Is good and strong and real."

He tried to turn my face to his

But my heartbreak wouldn't turn

He tried to cool my raging heart

But I just stood and let it burn.

And silence grew as he walked out

His sighs trailing soft behind him

I knew that I should beg him stay

But I knew where to find him.

And when the day had gone to dark

And foolish fled my eyes

I went in humble apology

To lay beneath the skies.

Before I approached, before I spoke

He jumped up to his feet

Brought out a present wrapped in fur

And handed it to me.

His hand, my protest, brushed away

Then shook back his long dark hair

And when I'd opened the mysterious thing

An arrow lay broken there.

My eyes sought his in pale moonlight

And questioned his silent face

He took my hand and closed it over

A heart shaped stone in place.

"This arrow is my vow to you."

He said defiantly

"I will not fight the one I love

And you won't fight with me."

"This heart of stone is what I had

Before I learned to trust

And now that you've taught me how to love

See, this stone heart turns to dust."

And he crushed my hand around the stone

And the stone to pieces flew

"This piece is me all lonely broken

And this piece here is you."

"Our people fought a thousand wars

With bow and arrow bold

But this one battle I will not fight

Though I die alone and old."

And he took me in his warrior's arms

And kissed the silver tears

Shining on my lover's face

That had not smiled at him in years.

The broken arrow crushed between us

As we melded into one

No longer remembering what the war was about

But knowing the fighting was done.

I brushed the dust of the powdery stone

Away from my hands and my face

Turned to the man with a smile like the sun

Our two crushed, broken heart stones replaced.

©by Voo

Sept 18, 07

2:53 a.m.

Broken Arrow by Rod Stewart

Like Evangeline

 

Like Evangeline

Like Evangeline I will search for you henceforth

Through dream and world and life and death and beyond

Through valleys low echoing with my calls 

And mountain peaks shouting back my cries

I will go on and I will not lose hope........

The birds may take my pleas to you in pity

The wolf may howl my heart song in the night

But I will never stop my journey towards you

I will not concede my loss and fight.

The world is not so large a place that you are lost forever

In it's jungles, streets, it's woodlands and it's glens

The eye of my heart will surely find your hiding place

And joy will overflow me once again.

I search, though foot weary and soul tired

I search, though humbled by the lack of sight

Very little in the way of clues has guided me thus far

But still, I look for you, my love, and I swear, will not turn back!

And if, like Evangeline, I find you there at death's door, waiting

I will not say that my journey was fruitless or call the searching

Wasteful of my life.......

I will say, as that one did, in anguish and in joy incomprehensible:

Father, thank You for the beating heart that beat in time with mine

And for the warmth that slipped away to cold there in my hands 

The love I felt one last sweet time as sweet as that I bear you now.

Still searching, still looking, still walking.......

The roads of the earth that will, one day, lead me back to you.

©by Voo

Feb 9 2005

10:30 p.m.

https://explorepartsunknown.com/southern-louisiana/a-cajun-myth-an-oak-tree-and-a-search-for-meaning/