http://contemporarylit.about.com/library/weekly/aa120302.htm

Don't know when it happened, but Poetry magazine received $100 million dollars, from a subscriber and rejected submitter. Lesson to editors: Be kind to your rejects.

Mr. Rogers died Feb. 27. At age 74, from cancer. This children's television host brought decency to the idiot box. Shame our rural home didn't pick up the channel that broadcast his show when I was a child.

I'm giving Head in the Clouds Poetry another run, now refurbished under the rubric of Clouds Poetry Magazine. Take a peek.

by Randal Matheny

Ahead, a distant flicker holds my eye.
Your candle in the dark won't let me die.

----
There are times when a friend becomes our slender thread to tie us to life and reality. Through him or her, our glimpse of God burns, if not brightly, because of our clouded vision, at least, steadily.

Thanks be to God for such rare friends.

Maybe you'd like to send today's couplet to one of them.

Randal

by Randal Matheny

My feet have pounded pavement
to clear a troubled mind.
I sought to lose enslavement
and leave concerns behind.

The more I stepped my paces,
the more I came to see
No easy change of places
could purchase peace for me.

For true contentment rises
from thinking inside out --
No sun will shine, no prizes,
if I decide to pout.

But once I chose to master
my inner woes and care,
I gained a joy much faster,
that's cheerful anywhere.

I've done with futile motion
in search of inner peace;
Admitting self-devotion
has brought me full release.

If you are in the alleys
in flight from heavy weights,
Know you can skip the valleys;
a mountaintop awaits.

Just still those shoes from walking
to calm anxieties:
This journey's made by talking
to God upon your knees.

Copyright (c) 2003, Randal Matheny
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