The closed door

at the departure gate. 2006



A door closed.



A friend left.



How final was that closed door-



How sad to see the blank wood.



I knew it might be the last view of my friend,



And I hoped that the door would open; if not immediately then as if the friend had re-considered a departure.



But later that friend did not return to the empty space left in my life.



I became a friend without. But, I was ready;



No return, that door closed forever.

 
 
Jean Neale

The sinister minister from Westminster

The sinister minister from Westminster



Prayed heartily for our souls



He had no idea what he was doing



Our souls were contained in our minds and our bodies



But he was sure we were failing our duty to god



But what we were doing did not work for him



So he kept on with his spell



For sinister minister was not working for God



But worked for the devil in hell.



So we decided to take things in hand



And solve this old man’s dilemma



We fell to our knees rather than stand



And we prayed for him to be healed.



His ideas were confusing most of all to him



We had our hearts in our work



But he resisted he knew no better



He was sure our fate was sealed.



The sun came out and a miracle happened



He knew he was being defeated



We won the battle we were secure



The old devil in hell was unseated.



So the sinister minister lost his title



And now walks the straight and narrow



We are leading him away from



the way he got lost



And his eye is now on the sparrow[1]



JANE NEAL

Patterns in the River

Water over stone

Patterns ever changing



Sunshine and shadows

Blue sky reflections.




Wild mint by the shoreJoe Pye weed color



Cardinal flower adds a pleasing red

And rarity.




Blue bottle gentian

Respectfully nodding

From under the sweet fern



And the river still tumbles over stones

Unchanged and unchanging.


And they say, don’t look back .


but we always take one more look.


Jane Neale



May 16, 2004

THERE WAS A KNIGHT OF BETHLEHEM

THERE WAS A KNIGHT OF BETHLEHEM



WHOSE WEALTH WAS TEARS AND SORROWS



HIS MEN AT ARMS WERE LITTLE LAMBS,



HIS TRUMPETERS WERE SPARROWS;



HIS CASTLE WAS A WOODEN CROSS,



WHEREON HE HUNG SO HIGH;



HIS HELMET WAS A CROWN OF THORNS



WHOSE CREST DID TOUCH THE SKY

 
HENRY NEVILLE MAUGHAN