Miss you

Don’t think I don’t miss you-

For I know I do.

I’ve tried to forget you,

But each time I lose.

Autumn is making

Its way to the trees,

And half of a lonely

September agrees.

But in my hard hurting

Mind I can see.

That if I fall

It won’t be with the leaves.

If one more minute

Life would allow

I’d tell you to cherish

Forever and now

Time given to you.

Love given in need.

But forget moments

That aren’t yours, I plead.

I gave you so much

Just give me back this:

The pleasure, the bruises,
And each treasured kiss.

Thoughts

I have just started reading Frank C. Laubach's "Letters by a Modern Mystic" again. He talks of living in continuous conversation with God and responding perfectly to His will. He tried and succeeded in living in such a way that God was on his mind every half hour, and later even every minute. I am dissatisfied with myself and would like to try his method... if you can call it that.

Simple

I have a secret.
Many times I have been called an enigma, a conundrum...
and rough around the edges.
That is not the secret.
My secret is that I am not an enigma, as much as I'd like to be.
I am very simple.
People think that I am mysterious, that I think a lot-
and they would very much like to know what is going on inside my head.
Quite simply the answer is: nothing.
Maybe I am so mysterious and puzzling becuase of the lack of information flowing through my head.

Some might say I am wrong. And maybe so.
Maybe I do not know of the endless string of thought that swirls through my brain.
Maybe it is hidden from me.
Not likely.

I'm not saying I am dumb...
Although I have thought that before and would not hesitate to think so again-
if it were shown to be so.
I am simple.
In my simplicity I hide behind mysterious eyes.
That is all.

Uncle Dave’s Meatloaf

1 lb. bacon

1 cup chopped onion

2 cloves garlic

1 box corn bread stuffing mix

4 eggs

3 lbs. hamburger

¾ to 1 cup Sweet Baby Ray’s BBQ sauce

A little salt and pepper

Cut thickly sliced bacon into 1 in. squares, leaving 3-4 slices for on top. Fry all bacon. Fry onion and garlic in bacon fat until caramelized. Pour stuffing mix into bacon fat and mix everything together. Mix in eggs, hamburger, salt, pepper and BBQ sauce. Put in pans, lay slices of bacon on top.

Bake at 350 for 45 minutes to 1 hour in a 9" x 13" glass dish.

Drain off fat and enjoy! 

Go running so that you don't gain 5 pounds.

Melchizedek

This Melchizedek was king of Salem and priest of God Most High. He met Abraham returning from the defeat of the kings and blessed him, and Abraham gave him a tenth of everything. First, the name Melchizedek means “king of righteousness”; then also, “king of Salem” means “king of peace.” Without father or mother, without genealogy, without beginning of days or end of life, resembling the Son of God, he remains a priest forever.

~Hebrews 7:1-3

This Melchizedek guy is making me wonder... who was he for real, and where is he now? What a mysterious paragraph...

I keep seeing the small passages from the Bible that include him, and so I keep wondering.

Cracks in the Pavement

She tried to walk on the cracks in the pavement. They were curiously even, making shapes like a city skyline, a castle wall,or perhaps a broken road. She considered and chose the broken road; it was almost definitely the most appropriate option. Life had a way of breaking her down, and her road had been crooked. She used to think that maybe there wasn't anyone alive enough to have a relationship with her, but recently she had realized that the real problem would be finding someone dead enough. She passed a graveyard almost every day during work, which often inspired the morbid poems that used to seldom find themselves hidden on her page. Trying to walk on the cracks made her look funny, she knew, but she cared very little. Holding someone's hand over these cracks would not make it better. She felt that the cracks might open up farther into great valleys and separate the two of them anyway. No, she must walk alone.

Shadow of Death

Time has rendered the moon's rings soft

The clock is ticking in heaven's loft

Below, the cool lit wintry scape

Crouches with its mouth agape.

The mountains stark against the sky

Obscure the depths from traveler's eye.

The valleys covered o'er with mist

The moonbeams fail their earth - bound tryst

Stars are hidden; their pulsing heat

Lends no aid to wandering feet.

Cold increasing- no warmth is left.

Courage ceasing- of hope bereft.

The forest cowers under moaning wind

Deceitful strains to peace rescind. 

Vilest valley, shade of death

Stealing faith and stilling breath.

By: Elizabeth, George III, and Allie Osborne