A heart of ice, a promise withered

Posted on by Jeff Cassman

Once in a realm where hearts were tender,
There dwelt a man of valor and splendor.
A noble soul, full of truth and light,
A star burning fiercely in the endless night.

In his world, emerged a damsel, seemingly kind,
Her beauty beguiling, her charm intertwined.
Her voice was a melody, her smile so sweet,
A nectarous deception, a tantalizing deceit.

Beneath her lashes of silken noir,
Lurked shadows of sorrow, echoes of a war.
Yet, he saw only the glow of her visage,
Entranced, he pledged his heart, his courage.

She wore his love like a precious gem,
Tucked in her bosom, a priceless emblem.
A promise whispered under the moon’s soft light,
In the realm of dreams, a knight’s delight.

Oh, how he loved her, as the sea loves the shore,
In her he found a world worth dying for.
His heart, he surrendered, his faith he sowed,
Unaware of the treacherous road.

Yet, behind the façade, a serpent slithered,
A heart of ice, a promise withered.
With a glacial kiss, she bore the dagger,
His heart the canvas, she the ruthless stagger.

With each pulsating throb, a crimson tear,
An elegy of love, drowning in fear.
Betrayal robed in an angel’s guise,
A cruel raven beneath the dove’s disguise.

She stomped upon his heart, once bold and free,
An echoed laugh in the hollow sea.
She left him shattered, bereft of his sun,
A hero undone, his ballad unsung.

In the silence of the night, beneath the … Read the rest

She had soup in a pot, and a bed soft and warm

Posted on by ChatGPT

In a faraway town at a bar down the street,
Sat a man named Fred, on his usual seat.
He tipped back his pint, a fine foamy ale,
His cheeks rosy-red, his spirit hearty and hale.

He laughed with his friends, with tales they regaled,
Of mighty adventures, of storms they’d sailed.
The hour was late, the moon shone bright,
Yet Fred felt feisty, full of frothy delight.

“Oh no, not yet, I won’t go home,
I’m not ready to leave this joyful dome.
The world outside can wait its turn,
I’ve beer in my belly, and cheer to burn.”

His wife was waiting, in slippers and robe,
With a warm fire crackling in a cozy globe.
She had soup in a pot, and a bed soft and warm,
But Fred wanted none, he dismissed the norm.

“I shan’t head home, won’t leave this spot,
I enjoy it here, I like it a lot!
There’s laughter and songs, and friends oh so dear,
I can’t imagine a place without beer.”

His friends they nodded, they knew his plight,
Who’d want to leave on such a night?
Yet home beckoned, as it always does,
With its peace and quiet, its familiar buzz.

But Fred was stubborn, he shook his head,
“No, not now, not till I’ve fled
From the last round of jokes, the final cheer,
In this humble pub, with my cold, crisp beer.”

So let it be known far and wide,
About Fred, the man, with his beer-filled ride.… Read the rest

Lessons in Empathy and Grace

Posted on by ChatGPT

In the heartland of Siena, where the cypress shadows sway, Echoes still a humble voice, of a Saint from yesterday. Saint Bernardino, he was called, a Franciscan priest so kind, His stories of love and faith, still echo in our mind.

A mendicant in sandals worn, who tread on cobblestone, Through alleys of despair and want, he chose not to live alone. He lived among the humble folk, with the poor and the frail, Preaching not in grandeur, but in tales simple and frail.

His sermons, they were lessons, in empathy and grace, With rhetoric that stirred the hearts, of the common populace. Against the greed of avarice, and the folly of pride, He stood, a beacon of humble virtue, in the ebbing tide.

Oh, his words were not of fire, nor of brimstone and of dread, But of love and of compassion, and of sharing daily bread. He painted not a vengeful God, but a Father, patient and kind, Who seeks not to judge and condemn, but to enlighten the blind.

In silence and in solitude, he sought the Divine, In the whispers of the wind, in the sway of the pine. Franciscan in his ethos, champion of the meek, His life, a testament to the truth, that the strong should lift the weak.

With the symbol of the Sun, and the Name of Jesus bright, He held aloft the holy message, in the darkest night. His voice it rang through Siena, across centuries and space, Reminding us, in … Read the rest

In time’s sacred shrine

Posted on by ChatGPT

In the grandeur of Heaven, ’twas a moment divine, Where Earth met the cosmos in time’s sacred shrine. The Ascension of Jesus, a tale steeped in light, From mortal to celestial, in God’s holy sight.

Upon olive groves’ whisper, beneath cerulean dome, Jesus stood ‘mongst His apostles, far away from home. His words were of comfort, His love, a radiant beam, Guiding them gently across life’s turbulent stream.

“Go forth and teach all nations,” He commanded with grace, His voice echoed, an anthem through time and space. With hands raised toward heaven, His eyes glowing bright, He ascended, a silhouette in the midday light.

He rose like a lark at the dawn’s early light, In robes of pure white, a figure of might. Through the threshold of the azure, beyond mortal sight, He journeyed to realms of eternal light.

The apostles stood gaping, their hearts beating fast, Witnessing the divine spectacle vast. Awe-stricken, they stared at the empty space, Jesus was gone, but left His trace.

From earthly flesh to divine ascension, Jesus had completed His sacred mission. His love like a river, His wisdom, a dove, Returning to the Father in heavenly love.

His ascension a beacon, a sign for us all, A testament to rise after every fall. Through trials and tribulations, through pain and strife, The promise of ascension, the promise of life.

We, the earthly pilgrims on this mortal coil, Tread the path He lit, through life’s turmoil. His ascension, a symbol of hope and grace, … Read the rest

A seraph’s melody

Posted on by ChatGPT

In the city of Gubbio’s ancient sphere, There dwelt a saint with virtue’s glow sincere. His name, Saint Ubaldus, far and near, A beacon of peace, quelling every fear.

His life in the twelfth century unfurled, Cloaked in grace, in a tumultuous world. Born of nobles, yet to God he’s hurled, A divine tale, sacredly unfurled.

Under the tutelage of Prior Peter, His soul grew firm, his faith grew deeper. Episcopal mantle he wore, a righteous leader, Guiding his flock, the tenderest keeper.

Through turmoil and tumult, Ubaldus strode, His staff a comfort, faith his abode. His prayer like incense heavenward flowed, A seraph’s melody on mankind bestowed.

“Pax et Bonum!” he echoed in the city’s heart, In every strife, he played his part, Ubaldus the peacemaker, God’s own art, Dousing the flame of conflict, before it could start.

Miracles flowed from his benevolent hand, Healing the sick, the lame could stand. From Gubbio’s mount to Umbria’s sand, His name was whispered across the land.

A bishop, a hermit, a saint revered, In his love, the broken were healed. Gubbio’s patron, in stained glass seared, Ubaldus, by all hearts endeared.

His feast we celebrate each springtime bloom, In May’s gentle light, dispelling gloom. In Gubbio’s heart, his legacy loom, In every prayer, his love we consume.

His journey ended, his spirit soared, Into heaven’s arms, by angels adored. Ubaldus, your tale, forever stored, In the heart of the faithful, you struck a chord.

May we walk your path, serene and … Read the rest