Music to Fall Asleep With

Helen Jane Long can take me to Dreamland.

Not that she bores me — quite the contrary:

Every night, she paints over my mind and

touches up dull with brightness and airy

glimpses of places I've never yet seen,

pictures of a world that needs to be true.

Through her work, she tells me she has foreseen

that not all is lost, the world can renew.

I need that in Dreamland, to not get lost

in crumbling mazes built on shifting sand.

The music guides as the border is crossed,

when Helen Jane Long takes me to Dreamland.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

Not a Poem

This is no poem; it’s only a test.

If it were poetic, it might be the best.

Or, then again, not. You just never know:

Until I am dead, I’m not known as a pro.

In the meantime, is this printer working?

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

Written while waiting for Tech Support to get my office printer configured.

This Day

Five trillion days ago,

when there was no when,

where there was no where,

an infinitesimal quantum hiccup

belched forth all

time, space, energy, laughter;

started making days.

This day

was the intended effect.

This day.

The Word spoke, created, that this very day be.

Into this day, He placed you; He placed me.

And I like the idea

of spending this day

with you

and with Him,

laughing,

in the space and with the energy

that He gave us,

five trillion days ago.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.