Things I wrote 14 years ago when retirement was never gonna get here.
My Secret Thoughts
Thoughts are the blueprints from which my words flow;
the source of the questions of what I would know
about life’s many lessons and where I fit in
to wend on the arduous path where I’ll win
the gifts of sweet Wisdom who shares willingly
with those who seek goodness and what that might be.
My thoughts drive my words which provide me a tool
to bring to reality what gives me rule
and a sense of relationship with all the lives,
the knowing of such is all that life gives.
© Arthur Ruger, 2000
The Form and Substance of Idleness
The body becomes idle by command of the soul
thru the mind and thinking that’s part of the whole.
Tis fear and doubt that hampers the will
by accepting an emptiness work might fulfill.
The Mother of all’s a great teacher with time
for planting and reaping a harvest sublime
in coming to know there’s a time and and place
to work or to idle with lack of disgrace.
Disgrace of the spirit’s what weakens our souls
leaving famine and drought to carve large gaping holes
in the form and the substance of quality life
torn to wavering shreds by the unholy knife.
When form becomes rigid, the style follows suit
and lazy is born out of idleness’s root
to thrive as a cancer giving rise to the doubt
that it’s better to work than to make do without.
The mind in its home is reluctant to quit
so long as to work is to make our life fit,
for the time and the seasons with wisdom we’ll know
that from idle to lazy is against Nature’s flow.
The garden of spring still awaits its renewal
tho summer be here, the unplowed has no jewel.
How long will you go with the soil left untilled
distracted by trivia with no purpose filled.
While anger doth dim the light’s life-giving boon
does reason enlighten to brightness of noon.
Take reason abroad where the field lies inert
unturned and unused serving nothing but dirt.
Turn over your anger and then plant the seeds
that reason facilitates in meeting your needs
to overcome idleness beset so with fright
by working your land from the dawn until night.
With reason and love you must plant your desire
to blossom with nourishment undimmed by your ire
and free to break forth to a joyous age
ignited by love quite untrammeled by rage.
Your wisdom bears fruit as by reason you’re wise
and discern where your passion expresses no lies.
To be idle in sulking will no harvest bring.
No time to be wasted with anger as king.
Make peace with your brother, let bygones be bye
for life’s much to short to live mad, then to die.
© Arthur Ruger, 2000
Curmudgeon at Work 