I shall live within the grasses my ashes cause to grow.

I shall live within the beasts grazing on them to and fro.

I know I shall live again.

I shall live within the trees which are nourished by my rest,

in whose arms the birds of heaven will build their needed nest.

I know I shall live again.

One day a treasure will come to me,

given freely, willingly.

Diamonds will shine with radiant light

bourne on the wings of devotion bright.

There'll be thoughts not just of self-hood

but how to assist and lighten the load.

Sapphires twinkle a deep navy blue

bespeaking affection abiding and true.

Gifts not of things and worldly possession

but thoughtful deeds of a tender persuasion.

Emeralds green will add a sweet glow,

the desire to be one the desire to grow.

To support another as one is supported,

the tender hand offered when all is thwarted.

Glittering rubies adds to the grace

founded in passion's loving embrace.

The aching need to have and to share.

Embraced in the arms of someone who'll care.

As I walk life's path from day to day,

I hope a treasure will come my way.

Larry Copeland

Copyright ©2005 Larry Gene Copeland

Grass upon the Hill

See the grass upon the hill,

Waving in the wind?

Beautiful it is indeed,

But 'twill soon be end.

Like grasses are our lives on Earth.

Pretty in its youth.

We're grown strong and blossom,

Then time comes with telling truth.

Let's enjoy the sunshine,

Each bright and shining day.

Like grasses we will one day wither

and wholly fade away.

Larry Copeland

Copyright ©2005 Larry Gene Copeland

I Am Human

Heap upon me derisive foul names and I shall be hurt.

Deny me my right to work and I shall be homeless, like so many others
.
Strike me with clenched fist and I shall feel pain.

Stab or shoot me and I shall bleed and die.

See the anguish mirrored in my face?

See my open gaping wounds?

I am not so different.

I love and laugh and cry.

I have ethics, morals and faith like many.

I am human...and I belong to this race called humanity.

I am a relative, a brother or a cousin or an uncle.

I am human...and I am gay.

Larry Gene Copeland

Copyright ©2005 Larry Gene Copeland

Woodland Symphony

A flute like breeze is blowing

through boughs of birch and elm.

While rust'ling leaves bring gentle tones

up from the earthly realm.

Cicada are the violins

with both chirp and tweet.

Tinkling waters of a brook

are bells with notes so sweet.

Sir robin perched belts out his song

in purest harmony.

'Tis a pleasure just to hear

a woodland symphony.

Larry Gene Copeland

Copyright ©2005 Larry Gene Copeland

Gold and Silver

Gold and silver pretty be,

gold and silver beckon to me.

But will they buy an hour of life

or end a struggle, conclude a strife?

Will they buy tranquility,

honest pure sincerity?

Will they together truly make

an ounce of kindness for kindness sake?

Will they cease the feuding and the war,

make us brothers as we were before?

Will they cure the sick or heal the lame?

Will they grant us mercy in our shame?

Will they yield comfort and a helping hand,

and cry out "peace" through all the land?
Gold and silver, they give quite a show.

But where they lead, do I want to go?

Since they can't do the least of these,

why should I yearn for their glistenings?

Larry Gene Copeland

Copyright ©2005 Larry Gene Copeland

My Sanctuary

When the present rapid pace is beyond bounds

I search out my sanctuary.

Found far from the busied haunts of men,

led by a corridor laid by passing deer.

Myriads of colors on a green backdrop,

murals that delight the eye, scent the air.

Onward to the hallowed place,

a sanctuary where solace and rest await.

Pillars rise to the ceiling,

each a different height and jade balcony.

Steps softened by a floral carpet,

I take my place at the ancient timber pew.

Softly the feathered choir begins a hymn,

which swells in a harmonious crescendo.
Accompiment bubbles quietly from a brook.

In a place not hewn by man, my spirit renews.

Some prefer the rush of a world gone mad.

I prefer this chancel against a harried life.

Larry Copeland

Copyright ©2005 Larry Gene Copeland

Gone, But With Me Still

In memory of my mother

T'was nearly now a year ago I said to you goodbye.

You said " I love you" as teardrops filled your eye.

How was I to know, that soon then you'd be gone?

To see you lying there cold, your life was finished,done.

Yet each day hence, when the moon rides high in the night.

I feel you press my shoulder with a maternal touch so light.

Or as I gaze at your picture hanging on the wall.

I sense your presence next to me, standing staight and tall.

The illnesses you had have vanished as with the ravages of age.

You've entered ,now, another realm,a new and glorious stage.

I sense you near me, your forceful strength and will.

You may be gone my mom, my friend, but you are with me still.

Larry Gene Copeland

Copyright ©2005 Larry Gene Copeland

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