Differences of Another

It’s our children that teach
And it’s we that must be reached
For our children
They mingle among each other
with no cares for the differences of another
For their hearts have not yet been beached
by fear’s hateful reach
We thank God for this
that they still know this bliss
Now we must not interfere
And bestow our hate filled fear
Yes it’s our children that teach
And it’s we that must be reached


Color speaks without words
There’s a relationship that speaks beyond words
There’s a story not quite sure
that color tells for those to hear
It’s in the relationship
not in words
That color speaks
Through it’s many hues

Returning home

(Spoken with an Irish brogue)

There is an Irish lad
who had misgivings he had
until the day he swore
to trace his ancestry all the more
And now that he has atoned
his misgivings are forever gone
He speaks his native tongue
which he long ago sung
From the Irish hilltops to the meadows below
he revives his long lost ancestry
to begin his long journey home
He writes this poem
for now that he has repent
his life is heaven sent
He’s returning home for there is much to keep
in his heart where his ancestors do speak
And to his joy and his wonderment he remembers somehow
where they found merriment
And until his dying day he will speak
his native tongue his ancestors always keeps

Robert L. O'Neill