Edinburgh Cathedral, 7, Thistle Chapel, ceiling.



Gary Sweeney – Richmond, Virgina


There ~ 144




I live in the future of the past, and the past of the future.

I play the star in this production of forever that escapes all rational thought.

I’ve learned that questions are uncertainty wrapped in a voice,

so I find no harm in giving myself the silent treatment.

If it weren’t for the instinct that stares with headlights on this darkened landscape,

I could fall impartial.

But who is truly blind? Is it the man who cannot see and must think,

or the man with sight who believes on visuals alone?

I live in the present. I see with experience, and would not insult myself by comparing the age of this fortress, to the kaleidoscope it locks away.

Once in a blue moon, twice in a red moon and a million times in the transparency,

I let the colors run free.







Inborn Happiness ~ 76




It’s hard to contain

this feeling of love

and happiness

as I walk into the kitchen

to make my coffee.


Sunlight casts a golden glow

on the wooden walls.

His teak dining room table

stands on my great grandmother’s

aging Oriental rug.


I savor the fragrance of fresh flowers

on the black lacquered altar table

with its inlaid Chinese scenes.

I turn on the classical music channel

as the coffee perks and give thanks.








Cherished Memories ~ 121




The mother sits serenely, a smile spreading across her face.

Her memories; her companions, her book of life. 

Like nurtured garden blooms, the memories surface,

scenting her life with beauty and joy.   


The mother closes her eyes, sighs happily,

recalls precious moments with her now grown sons.  

Gifts not forgotten, gifts they lovingly gave.


Three years old, cherubic face, sparkling eyes,

cheery countenance gave a bouquet of flowers he picked

from a neighbors garden.


Five years old, presented a smudged encrusted paper,

scribbled with swirls of peanut butter and jelly.

Happy birthday mom.   


Eight years old awarded mother with a chunk of hair

cut off from his brothers hair. 

Mother thinks hair is beautiful.


Remembered gifts.  Cherished memories.





Comments are closed.