#76: A Beggar

Have you ever noticed the way a beggar positions his hands? It is in such a way to receive a gift from someone above. This is a posture that is important as human beings, to be willing to receive something when asking for help. It is not an easy posture to take as it requires much humility. I know we tend to look down on beggars, and pity them, but there is much to learn from how they ask and receive. 

The desires of this life shackles my soul

Now I am just a beggar

With nothing to offer

Now I am just a beggar

With nowhere left to go

Now I am just a beggar

Who will sell his soul

Could anyone love a beggar

Who lives the life of a fool?

There’s nothing left in me

Except a poor man

There’s nothing left in me

Except a bitter heart

There’s nothing left in me

Except a wretched soul

If there’s nothing left in me

Then what can make me whole?

#75: My Father

This one is for my father. A great man with loads of wisdom and love. He has taught me a lot about life. Happy Father's day

My dad showing me his Leadership Award from Work  

I hear you Dad,
For your words resonate
Based with wisdom
Sprinkled with grace

You often say
What needs to be said
A kind word, when I'm down
A firm word, when I'm wrong

But it's not just me
Your words impact everyone

Why?
Because of your integrity
Because you do the right thing
Because you are led in the way that Jesus leads

The depth of your words are eternal
Your words are etched in my mind
And I am a better man for it.

#74: Your kindness

In the wake of the Orlando shooting at the Pulse Nightclub, my heart aches for the pain and suffering this terrible act has caused. Even worse, there are those that praise this act of terror. 

In light of such a dark day, please love others selflessly, commit acts of kindness as often as you can, and see your world change for the better. This poem was written for my friends who have shown great kindness and graciousness to me over the years. I am eternally grateful.

Your kindness so contagious

Your acts of love, outrageous

It is the place where bells will ring

Where children laugh and dance and sing

The sights and sounds of glorious things

Found in reality of perfections being

It is the place where no one is rotten

Where all wrongs are quickly forgotten

We will shout and sing our songs

#73: Pollock’s Canvas

Sometimes scientific discoveries are born out of madness. Take Jackson Pollock's famous fractal paintings for instance. It doesn't seem too brilliant at first glance, but the scientific community has been studying and learning from them. He may not have been a physicist or mathematician himself, but he did help us in understanding our world and the visual beauty that can be found in it. 

Check out the below 2 articles about how Jackson Pollock's work has been studied.

http://discovermagazine.com/2001/nov/featpollock

http://www.wired.com/2011/07/pollock-physics/

The poem below is written from the perspective of the canvas.

Jackson Pollock

The easel is a stand

That holds me, a canvas

A canvas as white as a winter storm

A blizzard

I've heard the stories

Of canvases transformed 
Into masterpieces

Their painter’s brilliant strokes

Brush in hand
They stare and stare and stare

Till they could see what their canvas could be

Their brush a tool of precision

Every meticulous stroke

Every dip and every dab

Until the canvas became perfection

Today I meet my master

Jackson Pollock

He throws my easel in the trash

He gently sets me on the ground

Amid buckets of paint

And brushes strewn about

I’m perplexed

His brush would never touch me

Nor would his hand

He paced around me

Circling around and around and around

His brush soaked with paint

Drip, drip, drip as he circled me

He’d grab another brush

Sopped in paint he’d fling it across me

Cigarettes and booze

Maybe they were clues

To his genius

I thought to myself

Is this the work of a master,

Or a crazy person?

Perhaps both.