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Misplaced Thought

This night and morrow they celebrate

with vim and vigour rare.

Morning brings the worldly things

and scents that fill the air.


Father and mother’s proud faces

speak of the money that they’ve saved,

not Christmas cheer, but relief that’s near

come the end of the seas’nal slave.


The kiddies with their goodies

sit by presents they’ve laid bare.

Boys’ planes now fly and trains choo by,

girls braid their dollies’ hair.


Yet through the glass, now eyes downcast

a lonely man stands there.

A tear rolls down toward his frown

from those saddened eyes that stare.


Now joined by another, these two brothers

on revelry look on.

“What is this? Something’s amiss!

What have I now done wrong?


“They’ve forgotten you, they think of me

and gifts and treats and trees.

It seems my good acts only distract.”

The first sank to his knees.


With broken, weeping hearts the two

now with flowing tears,

they walked away while the second said

“You try again next year.”




Post. 1 from James

If I should take another path

from yours, fear not

lest one be false

and one more true.

As you will mark

our journey thus

a joyful struggle,

upward soaring,

Velocity exacts a tax

and I too long have been the debtor,

hiding in your guiltless mirth

from the greatest gift companionable.


Farewell, my path of silence haunts

with soul-voices inextinguishable

as I seek the self I threw away

so many years ago…


James Titus Lowry and Lord John Roxton were both killed in a skirmish with wild natives in the interior of South America. It seems appropriate to share dear James’ final poem, which was to be carved on his gravestone.


Well that was fun

but now I’m done

and off! Fair Shanti waits.

I’ll soon spar lines

with those Divine

and pining wholly sate.


Thank you, James, for everything.

–Arthur C. Langley

Nos Carpe Diem

We are Passion! We are Glory!

Marvel as we seize the day!

Love and Laughter,

Fools Majestic,

Racing, Burning, Bursting Rays!


Dashing, Blinding, Dueling, Raving!

Snatching Life, our rightful Pay!

Mirth and Honor,

Gods Bombastic–

Marvel as we seize the day!


My Little Prayer

Lord, I lack a gift to give

to match Gethsemane.

Thou conquered death that I may live

for Thou believed in me.


Forgive, dear Lord, when I forget

and wander in my prideful ways.

If I could count the thousand drops

of blood, I’d never stray.


Forgive, then break and bind this heart

to love as Thou hast lovest me,

and I will serve, e’en offer all

through strife to be like Thee.



The Pasture is quite lovely

with grass and pebbled pond,

but now the mountains beckon me

to distant lands beyond.


The die is cast, the inkwell capped–

a purpose fills a void in space.

I walk upon the boulder path

and ne’er look back upon this place.




Parenting Tips

I have a little rose.

It’s here because of me.

I’ll trim and train, tie and restrain

and never let it be.

I have a little car

and it can really go!

Above the norm, it can perform,

but I just drive it slow.

I have a little ox

and he’s not too dull.

Does math and art, sings, cleans, throws darts,

but I just make him pull.

I have a little bird.

I put him in a cage

and when my things are what he sings

he’s reached the proper age.

I have a little horse

hooked up to my small cart.

I tantalized before his eyes,

then hide oats once he starts.

I have a little boy.

He dances by my strings.

I’ll shout it loud that I’m so proud

because he does my things.