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This is a true story of one of my many experiences of God's Angels. This is about an 8week old little baby girl I was caring for who died of SIDS in my care. I was with her when the Angels came to take her home. On feedback: I have many stories like this one or similar in nature, I would like to compile them, please help me with my descriptiveness or lack of, etc., any help is greatly appreciated. this is a VERY rough draft.

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This morning TV news coverage of the Pope's visit to New York City's St. Patrick's Cathedral held my attention until Mother Nature lured me outside into the sunshine of my garden where I worked digging up weeds and planting perennials.

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All feedback welcomed. I am trying some of my son's style of writing. He likes to write about the divine. I thought I would give it a shot. Kind of like a psalm.

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Pogo said that work was the crabgrass of life. Does that make crabgrass bad--or good? The answer may be related to how you define your work--or more likely, in how important your yard is to you. However, I tried to look at some of the good characteristics of crabgrass while writing this.

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This work is an attempt to explore the emotions and questions that arise from human tragedy. It raises the questions, but not the answers. While the questions raised are specific to a situation, similar questions are eventually asked by all. //God is defined in the broadest sense--and I hope it causes thoughtful introspection only. There is also a bit of "Eastern Philosophy" in this, as we are all affected by our experiences--and I spent 19 years in Japan and four of my seven children were born there.// A thought to consider; either God loves us all(regardless of our specific religion) or he loves none of us.

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I had always wanted to be in a church that does what the New Testament requires us to do. Recognize the needs, love the people, help them to grow and get their needs met and be secure in who they are. Is that what you think of as church? I found that and this is how it is. Maybe you are not a Christian, that is okay and your choice, this post is about a Christian church that lives up to the calling of Jesus. Tell me what you think.

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The forth book in this series is about tribulation. I am not posting anymore of “A Transformation,” for it would reveal too much of the novel. Before I stop posting here, I want to thank all who have responded to my writings or who will respond to them in the near future. Unless I receive more reviews, I doubt very much that I'll continue posting. Many of you have viewed, but only a few have responded. To those who responded kindly or not so kindly I give you my heartfelt thanks. I also give you my best wishes and will continue to read your writings. Those whose readings I enjoyed, but did not respond to mine, I'll continue to read, but will not respond. My God bless you all.

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Mixed feelings about religion and nature clash in a short poem interweaving symbols of the cross and the seasons (among others). A reworked version that addresses some of the previous comments and is a lot less ambiguous and truer to my original intent. Any and all comments welcome.

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Read and enjoy, for this author is knocking on your door hoping you will invite her in and will give her a chance to tell this story. The name of the novel is "Nothing Is Impossible With Him - A Transformation." Please do not ignore this poem. I'll try to make it clearer. The principle character in my novel is Joseph. Joseph's father raped his mother, and he was born out of the rape on December 7, 1941, the day of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Joseph met his biological father, become his friend, and then, his mother murdered the man when she thought that he had come to take Joseph away from her.(Joseph didn't know that he was his real father)He saw him murdered a few days after his tenth birthday. All this and other happenings pertaining to death happened in the first novel, the second novel is about him meeting his first wife and his life with her. This novel comes after the other two. I aimed to use this poem as an inspiration to get others to read the novel. I personalized the word Death, and when I referred to God, I capitalize the letters. I hope this helps. Pat

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Man thinks he is being cajoled into marrying a Haitian woman by her father's voodoo potion

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I was listening to John Coltrane's immortal disc "A Love Supreme", and decided to add a poetic twist. During the time of this record, Coltrane was going through a spiritual awakening...this is my take on it.

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Easter brings many natural events and stories that renew hope for the afterlife. This poem jumbles them all together in one.

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A modern take on the 23rd Psalm (not many people know much about shepherding, let alone see them too often. But, a personal trainer, that we understand.

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I am a believer. If I offend anyone I apologize but I am what I am and this is my new beginning experience much later in life. I grew up in church but later found it on my own.

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A young girl finds comfort from Grandmother on the lost of her cat. ( To any readers, I have tried to get this poem to publish in the correct form over 20 times and it won't do it. So as much as it shows that the sentances do not indent and it all runs together I stll want your feed back) I have tried to edit and will not let me.

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This piece is presented solely to encourage thought. The questions asked-I suspect, have been asked since the emergence of conscience, thinking mankind. Obviously there are no definitive answers to these questions. However, as death is truly the only inevitable, universal experience that all creation experiences, perhaps it's worth asking these and many other questions. If nothing else realizing that your questions are shared is of value, isn't it? At least that is the motivation that prompted this poem. It is the last in a series of five poems that started with 'Why God?'

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It has been a fascinating concept, and I fully accept that Jesus was fully God and fully man. That he was one part of the Godhead in three parts: Father, Son and Holy Spirit poured out to become one sacrifice for all mankind who would humble themselves only to the point of saying I believe and I am sorry please forgive me....Life everlasting. This is about the man, Jesus asking the father if he can escape the crucifiction?

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Sometimes you just write. Something in your head wants out! That is the simplicity of this. I appreciate your reading.

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This piece is only an attempt to explore some of the continuing, unanswerable questions that face mankind. The stated answers are only intended to cause the reader to think. Obviously these questions have faced mankind since conscience thought became possible.

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I have a friend who has lost everything, She thinks that she has to face her demons alone, I am a believer and I have told her that is not so. This is open to interpretation. All feedback is welcome.

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Please forgive me if I should post more than twice today, I do not intenet to bump anyone from places. I just have a heavy heart and feel that are just some things that need to be asked and said. all feedback welcome. Opinions welcome too......I did not write this with expectation of publishment, I'm just trying to figure out this Crazy world.

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if you are a perfectionist, surrender to wabi sabi and be happier - share your thoughts on imperfection

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This suicide poem of a Samurai is an attempt to underscore the cultural differences between western culture and eastern culture. The west is largely Christian. In Japan Christians amount to less than 3%. The culture is largely agnostic--Buddhism and Shintoism are the primary 'religions' although they are more philosophies than religions.//Imagine not believing in a supreme being and contemplating the end of your life as an absolute ending, by your own hand?//This poem is the creation of the author's imagination and is not at all authentic. I'm not Japanese but I've lived in Japan for nineteen years over a thirty five year period from the mid fifties to the late eighties. I graduated from a Japanese grade school in 1964.//The Japanese have a deep sense of honor. They are particularly sensitive to anything that reflects negatively on themselves, their family or their company. Most suicides in Japan are over issues of honor.//Personally, I'll never forget receiving a hand delivered wedding invitation on Monday, only to have it have it retrieved the following Monday, because the father of the bride opposed the marriage, and executed his wife, son and daughter with a Samurai sword, and then took his own life. The groom was the President of a large Japanese distribution company.//This poem, and many other cultural differences and nuances, are what inspired me to write the novel Corporate Samurai.

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I don't know how to do this without giving too much away. A man loses everything, including his faith in God. His sister is there, never waning, to help him. His life changes and if you believe him...so could yours. There, how's that for a hook.

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I asked a priest who teaches Ethics at my school if this had been fact in the 12th century, what impact would it have had on the Church? He said, “Very little. There would be enough evidence to discredit it, regardless of the source.” He also said it would have been a good thing. Debate of an issue should always be welcome...

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This is the story of a young girl's experience after surgery. It was born out of my own experience as a mother watching her daughter code. (For all of you non-medical people, coding is when someone's heart stops.) This is my imagination about what it the event is like from point of view of the person who is coding. Please let me know if it is confusing. I appreciate your opinions and input. Thanks for your help. Sincerely, Fi

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Please permit me to share my thought with you here at TNBW. Today I was informed that my Reverend Mother Bernice— died suddenly. I suppose she was called home to Shepard her spirit flock in the International Temple of the spiritual Universe. Today I wish her God speed... Farewell dear Reverend Mother, friend. Until we meet again.

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The “I” in IDEA is the biggest dare. It’s the oldest message in the greatest story ever told. Read on my dear, have no fear, just tell me what you hear.

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One night I was deluged with a storm of images in the form of a beautiful dream. As the months and years go by the images hasn't faded. As I struggle in the vast sea of creativity, this dream has come to symbolizes the struggle of my consciousness to find beauty and order in the chaos surrounding life and death. In the chaos of living recording dreams, shifting prospective and sorting truth from lies is a great outlet for my creativity. It provides a stable place in which I can be outrageous. I found "NIGHT VISION" in my created dwelling place between sleep and wake. Enjoy.

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I wrote this the first Mother's Day after the death of my daughter. I have shared this with very few people, but feel it might helpful to someone who is going through a similar circumstance... so I'm finally sharing it. I don't write much poetry, so I'm open to any help you may offer. Please let me know if you believe it could be helpful. If so, where should I send it? Thanks, Fi

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I wrote this poem in the weeks that followed my "disciplinery" removal from my old church because it "came to their attention" that I was divorcing my wife "to have a sex change." In truth, we were divorcing, but it was by mutual agreement without malice. The church's view is that being transgendered is a sin. The psychiatric and psychological associations are now leaning toward the viewpoint that it is a form of intersexism, but as yet, our diagnostic capabilities with regard to gender and the brain are insufficient to define a test for brain gender. But, from a practical standpoint, if the individual is driven toward suicide because of the cognitive dissonance between body and mind, it's clinically appropriate and compassionate to help that individual live their life in a manner that best fits their psyche. I wrote the poem using a fictional character who is intersexed, one "born" with indistinct or ambiguous genitals, who encounters the church and interacts with their opinions in a way that I was not allowed. Surely, one born with that condition has committed no sin and is innocent. The poem alludes to another who was innocent, yet who was sacrificed because of the cruelty and rigidity of his persecutors. If you know that story, you should be able to see the parallel from the very first paragraph and through it to the end. This is a long poem because it parallels this archetypal story. I beg your indulgence. If you do not like meter or rhyme, let someone else review this, as you will stumble over the form and miss the message. I chose the form because it benignly sucks you in, then puts you in a position to choose at the end of the "parable." Will you be offended? Will you be compassionate? We shall see. Btw, one allusion at the end to "sexaholics" is because the church decided I was a sexaholic and I should go to Sexaholics Anonymous. My normally dour psychiatrist belly laughed over that one. He said, "I don't think they will do much to help you, but if they find out your issue, you may be a cause of stumbling to them." Suffice it to say, religious "counselors" should know their boundaries and avoid the deep-end of the psychological pool or they will discover that real professionals, with medical and psychological sciences training, will see them as fools.

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Iron spikes and a wooden cross

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This is a story about a girl who, after being abused by religious fanatics, learns to Astral Travel and discovers many secrets of the Universe with the help of a guide.

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