Author: Jeffrey L. H. Naylor

What do I feel when I kneel to heal?
What do I break when I take for my sake?
What do I care if I swear on a dare?
What do I seed when I feed on greed?
What do I know if I go too low?
What do I say whether to stay or go away?
What do I mean when I preen with green?
What do I do to remain true to you?

Yankle Doodle Dandy went to town
Looking to buy Mr. Lapley’s hound.
Not a hound, a weird dog, says he found,
The word then surely got around,
That Y. D. Dandy caused such a frown!
So he stole the mutt and sold him to the pound!

slain by the
vulnerable emotions
of unfeigned love,
and finding all hope
piteously cornered,
the spirit ruptures.
like the whaler’s final harpoon
that strikes
the supple heart of the hunted,
and the harrowed.
reason is a memory.
peace is a luxury
dispensed only in the absence
of maudlin
prepossession;
an elusive,
infrequent eye
within the quiet
uncertainty of the storm.

There is a valley of heartfelt truth where sometimes we walk.
Entranced by nature’s lush, green carpets, we begin to talk,
And our hearts beat with the rhythm of love’s embrace.
We come to a brook and within its space we see one face,
‘Tis the face of patience only unfeigned truth can release.
In the valley, we walk undesigning in pure love’s increase.
A future for us beyond the valley’s verdant slope gently waits,
For a time when the waters of truth no longer its power abates,
But endears our bond to the valley and brook of truth.
Give us time to build our lives in this garden so sooth.
A heartfelt place where we will walk in hope without our fears,
An honest place where we talk and fill the valley with our tears.
In the valley of truth we’ll find our dreams of castles in the skies,
Bound in truth so strong and pure. Love is the sum of all our tries.

Undertows begin with the clash of distant oceans
Phantom muscles force striking waves across
Space and time furtively seeking usurpations,
Disturbing the ageless bearings
Set by the Mariner of the Ancient of Days.

Blinking sunshine
Shatters my dreams
Brings me to reality
With its morning love beams
Up I scamper, my babydoll so fine
Sly to seek morning’s first kiss

The paradox of life undeniably
Seldom catches us
Waiting, Wanting, Willing
To understand the circumstance
By which it quite surreptitiously appears

Yesterday casts its shadow upon my tomorrows
Today is a reflection of all my yesterdays
And that is why tomorrowland will only and always be
The mirror of hope into which I shall look for all my dreams.

To hope not or hope for all.
Profound is the life so enthralled!
Is it thrilling, one’s life so beneficial?
Or abysmally chilling, one’s life so superficial?
To have the dark, not the light.
To think of death, not the life.
To dream of tomorrow,
Forgetting today.
To weave only sorrow,
Yet, always living in dismay.

To hope not or have all
Profound is the life so enthralled!
Is it thrilling, one’s life so beneficial?
Or abysmally chilling, one’s life so superficial?
To have the dark, not the light.
To think of death, not the life.
To dream of tomorrow,
Yet, always forgetting today.
To weave only sorrow,
Yet, always living in disarray.