Grandmas paintings

How late in life,
Did she begin, to paint?

I see them now,
She is gone.

Never an artist,
Yet a painter.

As never a poet,
Yet a writer, am I.

Did they bring her joy?

I have them now,
She is gone.

Will my children have my poems,
When gone I am?

To bring to bring them, joy?

A Christmas mourn

This then Christmas mourn,
then past.

This then many years,
To see the joy
Then to return

This then year's of sorrow,
Then be gone.

The cancer took its toll.
Never I thought the joy,
Could, return.

Now the cure, then to, the joy.
The sorrow, now, no more.

This then saught, but not believed.
Then to us now, be grateful for,
Here, then still ...

Now he sleeps

A trip this morning,
to the doctor.

A panic then,
the emergency room,
this fear, then panic,
averted.

The healing now begins,
then anew.

I feared the infection,
spread again.

This fear now quiet,
the panic then too.

Still concerne, for him,
for her, for them.

Still.

The wounds old and new

I wrap now,
then, his bandages.

This time do I then,
again

This then the service,
offer, then,  this day.

The injury, the accident.
Then the infection sets in.

The surgery to remove,
this infection,
as many in the past,
both physical, and spiritual,
then the time, now to heal.

I wrap the wounds,
to begin the process,
then to heal these wounds.
then, to begin, anew.

To heal this, new wound,
and the ones,
long past.

This service, now,
then does increase,
our love, for one another.

On the Final Judgement

I served a Church Mission to the Mississippi Jackson Mission in 1984-86.  I was called to an 18-month mission.  It was an experiment the church ran in the 80’s to see if it would improve the mission work.  I was called in October of 1984.  In December the missions changed back to the 2 years standard.  I was given the option to finish the 18 months or extend up to 24 months.  In consultation with my parents I extended my call to 22 months.  This would leave time to work through the summer and start college in the fall.  These four months were the hardest part of my mission.

I was serving in Vidalia Louisiana.  It is a very small town across the Mississippi River from a small town called Natchez Mississippi.  At one point my companion and I were not getting along.  He refused to keep any of the mission rules.  Not that I was a sterling example of be a hard-working effective missionary. 

One morning when it was about the time I should have gone home and I was starting my extension, I had enough of my companion.  He was using my Walkman to play non-church music and refused to go proselyting with me.  I called the Mission President up and yelled at him. Unhappy that I had extended my mission for this experience.  I was unhappy with my performance and was just generally very angry. 

My mission president asked me to calm down and he would find a solution, to my problem.   He asked the Zone Leaders to come and take us on splits for a weekend.   This was about an hour drive for them from Alexandra La.  This experience helped me to refocus and recommit to keeping the mission rules.  My companion recommitted to keeping the mission rules and improving his proselyting.

The Alexandria Stake President ask to meet with my companion and I.  This was really unusual thing for a Stake President to do.  We normally did not have any meetings with the Stake Presidents in our areas.  He shared with us some of the problems the Stake was experiencing and why the Vidalia Branch was so important to the Stake.  He ask the Mission President to devote more resources the Vidalia Area including assigning us a car so we could extend the reach of our proselyting. 

The next 30 days became one of the best times in my mission.  We worked hard and my companion and I got along a great deal better.  I learned the blessing of hard work.  When we departed my companion and I loved each other.  My next companion was a real joy and the best one I experienced on my entire mission.

The next part is the sweetest memory of my mission.  After I received my new companion, we had Zone Conference in Alexandria.  I was a little apprehensive about my one on one with the Mission President.  When he saw me in the chapel, he put his arms around me and cried.  He said Elder Bassett I understand.  That is all he said” I understand”

I now know what the final judgement with be like with Jesus Christ and I have no fear.   I know the Savior because I knew someone like him.  My Mission President.

On my grandmothers

I live with their pictures, now
I lived with their stories, then.

Recently discovered, 

more photos, still.

But the stories, I've been told,
how then to understand,

them?

This,
Now ...

Was it the baby,
Her and the baby,  yet unborn?
To return,
to their Eternal, home?

Another, her husband now gone,

died coming home, from his mission,
the children then to raise,
On her own.

These are their stories, 

I am told, shared by a Mom,
Her story, then yet,
Unknown.

On Mary and Elizabeth

In death they share chapel,

in this life, they share, a son,

and a possibility,

Their two countries separated,

by their two crowns

Mary sought, in rebellion to preserve a crown,

the crown of the Scots.

Now that crown rests on her son.

the infant child.

Elizabeth too had the crown,

thrust on her too,

the bastard child, of a king,

or was she?

Elizabeth, a child , of her own, 

never now to have,

or husband to share, one with,

Thrust on the child then,

was their crowns

Now sharing in death,

what they shared not in life.

Two countries, a child,

and then, a burial place ...

This poem is about Mary Queen of Scots and Elizabeth I of England.

Mary's Son James VI of Scotland became James I of England.  He  inherited the English Crown.  He had Mary and Elizabeth buried in  sepulchre's in the family chapel in Westminster Abby.

Schrödingers cat,

Here I sit, like Schrödinger's cat,
the possibilies open,
while the box remains closed.

To make a choice, then ...
or to be subjected to,
anothers choice.

Mistakes I have made,
paths I have chosen,
now subject to these,
remain I, this day.

Brokenness and the Fall of Man

Good morning Brother and Sisters.  It is my pleasure to be with you today.

I want to share with you my favorite scripture.  It has deep meaning to me and I reference it a great deal with life becomes difficult for me. It is 2 Nephi

2 Nephi 4:15-17 And upon these I write the things of my soul, and many of the scriptures which are engraven upon the plates of brass. For my soul delighteth in the scriptures, and my heart pondereth them, and writeth them for the learning and the profit of my children.

16 Behold, my soul delighteth in the things of the Lord; and my heart pondereth continually upon the things which I have seen and heard.

As I have spoken to you in the past from this pulpit.  I am broken, from a broken family.  I have learned, from a lifetime of service, to love my family.  I do not always agree with them.  They do not always agree with them.  I have learned to both follow and lead them by example, to love the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I in my early youth, as I was developing my testimony, I read a great deal of Church History.  I kept a journal of my thoughts.  I prayed to love and serve my family.  I was not attracted to reading the Scriptures, especially The Book of Mormon.  I really disliked:

1 Nephi 1:1

I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents …

Why was I not born of goodly parents?  I was jealous of Nephi and his family.  His family was led by a prophet.  When I learned of the Psalm of Nephi, it spoke to my soul. 

2 Nephi 4:17

Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.

I really love my family and could not understand why were, like we were.  Fallen man, deeply fallen man.  It was my sin as much as there’s that deeply troubled me.   I wondered how Heavenly Father could love me when I was so weak and fallen.  It comforted me to know that Nephi felt the same way.

2 Nephi 18-21

“I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me. And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.

My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep. He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.”

How then to be rescued from this fall.  I am not a preaching man.  I had poor social skills.    People do not generally follow me because I ask them to.   How then to be rescued from this fall.  How to be a part of, and separate from my family.   This scripture then gave me a model of hope and faith.  I could be like a fallen Nephi even if my family was not led by a prophet.

What do we now think of the fallen state we are trapped in.  Just one small sin or act of rebellion with forever banish us from Heavenly Fathers presence.

Alma 45:16 

“And he said: Thus saith the Lord God—Cursed shall be the land, yea, this land, unto every nation, kindred, tongue, and people, unto destruction, which do wickedly, when they are fully ripe; and as I have said so shall it be; for this is the cursing and the blessing of God upon the land, for the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance.”

“The Fall was not a disaster. It wasn’t a mistake or an accident. It was a deliberate part of the plan of salvation. We are God’s spirit offspring, sent to earth innocent of Adam’s transgression. Yet our Father’s plan subjects us to temptation and misery in this fallen world as the price to comprehend authentic joy. Without tasting the bitter, we actually cannot understand the sweet. We require mortality’s discipline and refinement as the next step in our development toward becoming like our Father. But growth means growing pains. It also means learning from our mistakes in a continual process made possible by the Savior’s grace, which He extends both during and after all we can do. “

The Atonement: All for All Bruce C. Hafen General Conference April 2004

The lesson in the atonement that Lehi were left was not only for Laman and Lemuel but also for Nephi.  At Lehi’s death, and the separation of the family.  Nephi was left depressed and despondent at his failure to keep the family together.  He had failed at a task his father asks him to fulfill.  After feeling sorry for himself, Nephi remembered his father’s teachings and on whom he could depend on.  He recommitted to the teachings of Christ. He remembered Lehi’s lessons from the past and turned to depend on God again.

These past few years I have learned, that I can depend on Heavenly Father’s teaching and Jesus Christ atonement to carry me when life gets tough.

My wife’s health, my car accident, my daughter’s marriage have been tough for me to handle, these last 4 years.  I remember the lesson, The Holy Ghost shared with me as I struggled with my father’s family growing up.  I am not perfect. Heavenly Father does not need me to be perfect.  He needs me to build a strong relationship with him, my family and my ward members, to have the strength to fulfill the task he has assigned me.

"Broken" Kenneth Cope

To this then the covenant

To this day, we make, the covenant.
Not for time, only
but for eternity.

This then does include,
the children.

We promise to love,
when we are unlovable.

If we are commanded,
to pray for our enemies,
does this not include,
our families.

We often quarell,
with ones, who know us best.

Into the covenant,
with both eyes open,
we remain inside with one, now closed.

To the remainder of my days,
I keep my covenant,
as she keeps hers.

On Aeschylus

My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: "In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God."

Robert F Kennedy April 4 1968
Indianapolis Indiana

https://www.jfklibrary.org/learn/about-jfk/the-kennedy-family/robert-f-kennedy/robert-f-kennedy-speeches/statement-on-assassination-of-martin-luther-king-jr-indianapolis-indiana-april-4-1968

The son of the mourning

This then, the morning after.
the battle, here in her home.

Sorrow filled her heart.
That her chosen one.
The son of the morning,
Would do this.

Full of so much promise.

His, and their light,
would diminish now.

Now it begins,
the choice, the real choice.

She had loved them all.
But now her heart breaks.
One third gone,
unredeemable, of his choice.

She wished she could have kept them,
here, cradled them, in her bosom.

She had loved them,
from, Eternity.

Now comes their choice,
real choice.

Michael would become, Adam.

The first man, in the new formed world.

But this loss,
the first loss,
of many to come.

It may be the greatest.
This then breaks her heart.

The son of the mourning.

Shades of the choice

Thy will be done,

mine

Thy will be done,
Gods

Thy Will be done,
mine, or his?

* this is the song I was listening when I received this poem.

Thy Will

Artist: Hillary Scott & The Scott Family

Album: Love Remains

Released: 2016

The common-law wife.

To be the mistress,
or common-law wife.

Young she was when,
she came to the Swans.

Her parents, gone.

To be indentured then,
a servant girl.

Then love did come,
to the servant girl.

But this being Victorian times.
This uneven match, could not be.

He the son of the master.

Yet children did come,
acknowledged, by the masters son.

Then blessed in the church.

It was not a bad life.
good food,
a warm bed,
children educated,
and later, the masters home.

30 years she waited, but marriage did come.

To this, then the wife,
she becomes ...

* This is a true story grandmother, Elenor Broome

Lucifer the first broken one

Their he was,

that first broken one,

unable to return,
and, unwilling to change.

Pride, vain pride.
to lose the followers, he misled.

How simple,
to bend the will,
to the one.

Both in debt,
and discharged.

This god, will not forgive,
I will not forsake,
I would then to return,
This course, of action.

Then on to the new created world,
to deceive mankind,
by this choice,
this divided kingdom, 

to rule with God, 

this day.

John Milton

Paradise Lost 4:1-113

The screw'in stool

Their it was,
in the kitchen.

The one where so many Martin's,
were provided,

a start.

Used daily to reach the highest shelf.

That is not, why it was kept,
their.

Late night,
when children were in bed.

The senior Martin's would reunite,
to renew again,

a covenant.

And occasionally a new life,
a Martin,
would be planted.

On arranged marriage.

Was the marriage,
arranged?

It was time to marry,
now.

He had been home long,
enough.

His syblings,
they were married.

Then now must he start,
to date.

He prayed,
and out with a few girls,
he went.

Dad had a friend,
a girl at work.

She needed a good,
friend.

So off to the young adult activity,
swiming it was.

Little did he know of her fear,
of water.

Six months later,
to the temple,
they go.

This goal now met,
together.

So arranged was the marriage?

Or thus working on,
still.

On Casting Crowns and the wider Body of Christ.

Last night I attended a concert in the Abravanel Hall, In Salt Lake City Utah. It was performed by Casting Crowns. They are a group of musicians from Atlanta Georgia. They would be best described as Christian Contemporary Band, a Christian Rock Group. It felt like church. It felt good to meet with the church. If one accepts the wider definition that the church is the Body of Christ, a collection of his believers. To hear a Christian Pastor, speak in humbleness of his own sin, weakness, and brokenness.

To see the beards, tattoo’s, and scars of the followers of Jesus Christ. To feel the spirit flow as the word was preached in humbleness. That Heavenly Father could use the tool of loud raucous rock music to preach the Word of God, to his people.

To spend the day with my sister who has her own brokenness. This is a blessing, I will not forget.

That I may always follow the example of this pastor, and reach out in humbleness to preach his word and bless the life of every person that I meet would be the prayer in my heart today.

"And also those to whom these commandments were given, might have power to lay the foundation of this church, and to bring it forth out of obscurity and out of darkness, the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth, with which I, the Lord, am well pleased, speaking unto the church collectively and not individually—

For I the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance;"

(Doctrine and Covenants 1:30-31)

"Finally, the restored gospel is a gospel of liberality and generosity. It took my former-Catholic wife Fiona to teach me that the church John saw did not disappear; it retreated into the wilderness. Joseph Smith saw the Restoration as a bringing of that church back out of the wilderness, a restoration of the “ancient palace” now reduced to ruins, a reassembling of all the good and beautiful in the world and in the Christian tradition, that had been lost or corrupted from Eden forward. The church I love has invisible borders, and reminds me of what was written of Spinoza, that “he rejected the orthodoxy of his day not because he believed less, but because he believed more.” Or as Joseph wrote, “it feels so good not to be trammeled.”

For myriad reasons, but these five principally, I choose and affirm this path in order better to live as what Elder Uchtdorf calls “a disciple of the gentle Christ.”

https://www.fairmormon.org/testimo…/scholars/terryl-l-givens

"When the dragon saw that he had been hurled to the earth, he pursued the woman who had given birth to the male child. The woman was given the two wings of a great eagle, so that she might fly to the place prepared for her in the wilderness, where she would be taken care of for a time, times and half a time, out of the serpent’s reach. Then from his mouth, the serpent spewed water like a river, to overtake the woman and sweep her away with the torrent. But the earth helped the woman by opening its mouth and swallowing the river that the dragon had spewed out of his mouth. Then the dragon was enraged at the woman and went off to wage war against the rest of her offspring—those who keep God’s commands and hold fast their testimony about Jesus.

Revelations 12:13-17 NIV

"I hope no reader will suppose that ‘mere’ Christianity is here put forward as an alternative to the creeds of the existing communions—as if a man could adopt it in preference to Congregationalism or Greek Orthodoxy or anything else. It is more like a hall out of which doors open into several rooms." ... "But it is in the rooms, not in the hall, that there are fires and chairs and meals The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try the various doors, not a place to live in. For that purpose the worst of the rooms (whichever that may be) is, I think, preferable. it is true that some people may find they have to wait in the hail for a considerable time, while others feel certain almost at once which door they must knock at. I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into your room you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good which you would not have had otherwise. But you must regard it as waiting, not as camping. You must keep on praying for light: and, of course, even in the hall, you must begin trying to obey the rules which are common to the whole house. And above all you must be asking which door is the true one; not which pleases you best by its paint and paneling. In plain language, the question should never be: ‘Do I like that kind of service?’ but ‘Are these doctrines true: Is holiness here? Does my conscience move me towards this? Is my reluctance to knock at this door due to my pride, or my mere taste, or my personal dislike of this particular door-keeper?’

When you have reached your own room, be kind to those who have chosen different doors and to those who are still in the hall. If they are wrong they need your prayers all the more; and if they are your enemies, then you are under orders to pray for them. That is one of the rules common to the whole house." C. S. Lewis Mere Christianity: Preface

On the new haircut

They complimented her,
On the new haircut,
The ladies of the ward.

Little did they know,
It was coming out,
In handfuls now.

Six months left,
The doctor gave her.

Then the husband,
And the children,
No more.

How to leave this,
Then.

The family she had,
So longed for.

To hear her voice.

To hear to the voice,
of the one I love.

It has been too long,
nearly.

This long time,
to hear her voice.

Their was a time, I was not sure,
she would come.

These days I longed for ...

The first diaper.
The first word.
The first step.

These I thought would never come.

We shared a hammer,
when she was three.

It was our first home in Logan.
She helped me to remodel the entrance.

Now I wait by the phone,
as my Mom did for me

To help her in her time of need.

May I ever be grateful for the gifts,
she has offered me

Thinking of Vicksburg

How I long to be with you again?
Among your people.
This 30 years.

I learned so much,
the last time,
I was with you, there.

I think of Gloria,
cancer took her from her family,
for a while, to be together, again someday.

What of the truck driver?
Traveling with the one?
Who was not his wife?

Seven days, to make the sacred covenants.
The mission president who changed his schedule, to interview the man.

Are they married now with grandkids?

I long to be with you again.
I am needed here, so here stay.

But part of my heart remains with you.
For Eternal Things.

From whence does it come?

Still the poetry,
From where doeth it come.

But come'th it does.

Till I come,
It reaches me.

Forever more
And then the same.

Doeth it reach you?

Posted Facebook Sept 2016

The Church as an AA Meeting

To sin, the choice,
This I have made.

Sin is a choice
And to this I do.

Of ignorance comes,
the transgression.

But this sin,
I must choose.

Of foreknowledge, And desire.

I have chosen this, Sin,
for so long. A pattern it is,
And I know no other.

Other sinners, Must I seek.
Like two drunks, In an A.A. meeting.

Will Bill and Bob, Help me to change.
To sin no more, A day at a time.

Then  is this, the church real,
This then The Body of Christ.

Sinners in a great AA meeting.

The selling of hate

The world is it now,
becoming?

They seek to divide,
us.

To better sell,
the goods.

Hate sells better
then love.

To advertise,
they must shock us.

Murder, theft, and robbery
sell better than,
kittens and new puppies.

To entertain, us.

They must divide, us.

By all measures,
the world gets better,

When I walk away,
turn it off,
and seek to serve.

Facebook poem 09/18/2018
Revised 09/19/2018

On our first day.

That day was our first,
together.

I so longed,
for that day.

That day you created,
a new father.

Born less then,
perfect.

As a father,
I am less then perfect.

You learned to,
overcome ...

I learned to,
be a father.

We both overcome,
our imperfections.

As we seek for growth,
Redemption,
and forgiveness.

On being Samwise Gamgee

This then the walk,
Mr Frodo and I.

How long have we,
journeyed thus?

My burden, not The Ring.
My burden, Mr Frodo.

To standby,
then to wait.

Never the glory,
Ever the burden.

But journey we will,
standby I have.

Meet then our goal,
to the journey, we thus,
The Ring then destroy.

This then our task.

On my Moms

Do they carry us,
Or do we carry them.

The are all gone now,
but one.

The one who was my mom,
And the one's who wanted to be.

I feel their luv.
I understand their fears.

Now I take their lessons,
And make them my own.

To father the ones,
Who remain.

They are gone now, but remain with me, to share.

* At one time, or another, all of my aunt's expressed a desire to be my mom

Sept 11 2015
Facebook.
Update Sept 20, 2018

On poetry

Forth comes the poetry,
Doe'th it naught.

For what purpose,
comes the poetry.

A new found prayer,
a thought,
or a hope, for the future.

Wriggleing forth,  on upward.

To bar it now,
unable or unwilling.

I am.

But share it I must,
endure it you might.

The way then is thus,
to bless us ...

Both.

To hear her voice

I called today,
to hear her voice.

Not the angry,
Or sullen, or dying voice.

The voice from when,
We first, fell, in love.

I have luved her,
This many years.

But how long since,
Have we, been friends.

The separation heals,
It drives me to the longing, years.

To luv, is a covenant,
Down through, the years.

Mom and Dad,
Luved, for nearly, 50 years.

Can I reach out, to rebuild.

This friendship, 

Now we've luved,
This many years.

She came, in her own special way.

I have mourned you, now
This many years.

The years we could have had,
The things we could have shared.

God did promise, you to me.

Have I closed that part, of our hearts.

One who loves us both,
offered us, two,

They filled the void.

Still the life, I sought,
did not come come,
and never would be.

Did you not did come,
on a different path,
in different way?

You and your brother both?

There is new found love,
heartache and pain.

The times, we share,
the lessons, we learn.

The joy you bring,
as you learn to fly,
in your own special way.

On letting go

This past decade, or two,
She was their,

My greatest desire,
Husband and father.

Now she takes flight,
and trust her I must.

Once I left my mom,
three years nearly.

With narley a call or letter.

Yet love me she did,
From a distance.

Now trust her I must,
that return she will,
as I did too.

Noah let loose three birds,
and the rescue was sure,
when return, they did not.

Yet return I did,
and rebuild we did.

Now to my Father and Daughter,
do we thus now begin,
anew.

When joy returns

I am thinking thinking about pain and suffering and endurance, grace, gratitude, cancer, remission, being run over by a cement truck, steak knifes and forearms.

Ever wondering when joy will return. Angry, very angy and gratitude still.

Wales and Duck Billed Platypuses and the joy of Gods humorous creations. Quasar, dark matter,  the smile on my sons face when I come home.

That their is light and God will send many Samwise Ganges when Mr. Frodo can no longer carry the load.

https://youtu.be/9hN9c3RQpZs

The ring we share

It was a simple sterling wedding band purchased at a pawn shop.  It was discarded by another when its value in cash exceeded its value in sentiment.  He wore it daily as a reminder of the covenant they shared.  It was not the first band, that band stayed behind in the jewelry box.  It was too valuable and easily damaged.  The first would not endure long, in the room where he washed clothes to feed their growing family.

She is gone now,

yet they are one.

This we share, now.

The three of us.

A covenant,

a promise,

a ring.

Once it was shared,

by two, then came two more,

and the temple ceremony,

then two more,

Dad gave me the ring,

years ago.

Now four more are bound,

by the ring, the promise,

and the covenant.

My father gave me his second wedding band, which I now wear.
I have three siblings and two children.

He lives with death.

He lives with death,
Or is it life.

T'is life to love,
This all it is.

He does it all,
To come to this.

To this I come,
Or do I leave

To leave and come,
This life is all.

Steven Bassett

Wrote this in Aug 2015 in the midst of my wifes cancer when we believed she was terminal.

Things tobe Grateful for

Grateful for the amazing gift of doubt...
Being run over by a cement truck, and being alive...
For the gift of poetry that follows ...
No firearms in the house on my darkest day ...
The gift of courage to help preserve my wife's life...
For a wife and two beautiful children ...
For a surgery at birth that allowed me to live more then one week.
That my parents learned to forgive, forget and luv again for nearly 50 years...
For being born sterile and the opportunities this gift offered my children ....
That they learned to luv their birth mother ...
That she was an important part of their lives ...
That my brother and sisters learned to forgive, forget and to luv again ...

That I worship a limited god who is blessed with sufficent power to redeem my soul.  ...

For John Milton, William Tyndale, John Bunyan, Isaac Newton,George MacDonald, G.K. Chesterton and C.S. (Jack) Lewis.

* My god has freely chosen to limit his own power to allow me the fullest expression of will.

On incomplete poetry and revealed thought

Why doe'th he write it,
Or doe'th it right him.

These thoughts incomplete,
They revele'th their in.

To fill in the blanks,
Tis but given them now.

T'is his not to seek,
but to them to reveal.

To both, come'th now,
And it filleth their in.

Facebook July 2015

Only to believe

To know, not now,
to believe, then only

So certain, I was,
in my youth

Now then does,
begin old age.

This, then, uncertainty.

T'is a good thing?
This uncertainty?

Comes a stretching.
Thus a reaching.

Rest, not, now.
No sense of piece.

Must now strive,
to gather then thus.

The pieces.

Not to rest,
then to strive.

The answers, then come,
increasingly still.

Thus then, now.

Only, to believe.

On harvesting truth

4 For behold the field is white already to harvest; and lo, he that thrusteth in his sickle with his might, the same layeth up in storethat he perisheth not, but bringeth salvation to his soul;

5 And faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of God, qualify him for the work.

6 Remember faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, brotherly kindness, godliness, charity, humility, diligence.

7 Ask, and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Amen. (Doctrine and Covenants 4)

It struck me today an additional meaning of this scripture.  I am learning some of the process Joseph used in restoring the church.

He gathered it more like Ruth the gleaner then fully firmed ex nihilo. 

The notebooks where the early text begin to form show signs of collaboration almost like he was seeking spiritual confirmation from others he had learned to trust.

Joseph saught to democratize the prophetic voice.  He wanted all to have a revelation.

On becoming friends.

This is where we first,
became known,
this one and I.

We where not friends,
far too long.

Too much alike,
to ever be the same.

We exercised our demons,
together,
a-part.

It is asphalt now,
as it was then,

this the playground,
and our friendship.

Have we changed much,
this parking lot,
and I.

Does difference, make us the same?

How much of our distance was of my fault.

Then the comes the letter,
we are different no more,
now always the same.

I mourn now the choices we make,
the pain I did not remove,
the light I did not bring.

Till we meet again my friend,

I exercise my demons
and seek the light.

*revised July 2018 from a poem posted to Facebook in July 2015 on the suicide of a friend Kelley Niederhauser.

It is a parking lot made from the playground of the old. Woodruff Elementary School in Logan Utah.

Kelley wrote me a letter when we left on our mission's.  I still long for the memories we did not share.  If we had reconciled sooner or I had shared myself more, their might have been a different ending.

When I had my darkest day no firearms were in the home.  Still understand do I and greave the loss of what might have been.

On grandpas anvil

Grandpa's anvil
sits in the garage.

He used it to create,
horseshoes.

We use it to repair,
cars.

Dad tells me it left home, once.
Grandpa went to fetch it home.

A neighbor had a need,
then returned it, not.
Grandpa pulled out a switch,
and beat that anvil.

Grandpa was a small man,
over the shoulder he carried it,
told that anvil never to leave home again.

This story my Dad tells me about of his granddad.

Passed down through the ages,
the story, and anvil.
Always together,
never apart.

What will they, carry, down.
My children, when gone, I am?

This my Luv, and the truth, I share.

The poet

This, did I not ask,
for.

to be a poet

not like a violinist,
or pianist.

A talent, to be selected,
and matured.

It is imposed,
when it comes.

This newness,
this muze.

It comes to me,
unapposed.

Like the morning rain,
to the flowers.

The mouse seeking,
for the cat

This then does,
feed my soul.

*C.S. lewis said as an atheist his search for God was like the mouse's search for the cat. "Surprised by Joy"

-- 

Steven Bassett

Luv is a verb

This new word, com'th to me.

This verb, this new thing,
that comes to me now.

Is it naught?,
this new thing,

How to do it,
Not.

This thing, this new thing.

It is painful, and with it comes growth.

When I choose it, we both grow.

This thing to come,
years now.

When it does, I am greatful,
for the gift.

We share, now.

Difficult things, and the dance

Difficult things, I seek then to know.
Yet thus to explain, then able,  e'm not.

I ponder them now,
this many years

These thoughts, then to share ,
thus, desire I now.

Why do you not,
understand me then?

To win an argument,
seek, I then not.

I want to share, a truth.

Maybe the day, will come,
when prepared to receive, you are

Or better able, to explain, I am.

Till then, shall we dance,
and be friends.

The Negotiation

Now begins...

The third marriage,
To the first wife.

Began then the first,
Young love,
full of possibility.

Two comes the babies,
when no life, we create,

Together.

From one,

who luvs us,

All.

Then three comes the time,
The babies now raised,
Our parents come now,
To the end of their days.

That this now complete,
The promises kept,
The cycle complete,
The covenants shared.

Tobe Unborn and Luved

Dana was my name.

Dana Allan ...

Prepared, not was Momma,
for my birth.

This then, the I.U.D.

Four others already had she,

and with Daddy that made five.

Luv'd him, did she,
and them, too.

Life is hard, real hard.  

She saught to fill his needs,
and there's too.

Young she was, and maturing too.

Now I understand,
I hope they do, too.

Then comes grace,
and forgiveness.

I hope you are luv"d,
remembered,
and mourned.

(Note an I.U.D is an intrauterine device designed to prevent conception.
My Mom was wearing one the day I was born. 
She desire not my birth, yet name me she did,
and mourned my loss the remainder of her days.)

.

The Handmaiden ToBe

Their she lay, at Boaz foot ...

Tobe covered, by the hem,
Of the covenant.

Then on to bring forth the child,
of Naomi, and Boaz.

That the inheritance and covenant,
may continue.

This then the promise was made,
and the promise was kept.

To the bring forth, the Kings.

First David, then Jesus,

To serve them all.

What Remains

Caught by the grandkids ...

mak'n out, at the cemetary.

Their, were they,  
tobe, with their daughter,

and what remains.

It had been long, too long

this last, separation

Luv takes time ...

This long time.
it simmers, and bubbles, and over flows.

Then what remains, in old age?

How to rekindle,
that midnight cigarette?

This then, they do now, here,

with their daughter, son, and grandkids.

The Other Handmaiden

What of the other,
handmaiden.

She who bore,
the Son of God.

Was she like the former.

Ruth bore, the son of Naomi.
The grandfather, of David.

So to the handmaidens,
now we do ...

This then honor,
the Mother Of All.

"Entreat me not to leave thee ...

Thy people shall be my people ...
Thy god is my God."

He who bore the sins of the world.
Born of a handmaiden.

A gift to The Mother,
Eternal, in her home above.

We speak not of her,
this then, must we change.

This then to honor,
them all.

That then all of the handmaidens,
to the Mother, Eternal...

May they share. The fruits of their womb.

Eternal.

A Handmaids Tale

Ruth was Naomi's handmaiden.
This fruit of her womb, given as a gift,
and a sign of love.

I have know Naomi,
I have know Ruth.

I choose to luv,
them both.

One for the gift of life,
the other for the gift of her life.

For to cherish the children,
both they do.

The danger, was there.

Slow down He said.
There is danger ahead,
slow down.

No danger was there
I saw it not.

Thus, I slowed down.

I have learned to heed his council.
That is why I preside now,
over his mission,
and 240 of his children.

That nothing happened.
Did I hear Him wrong?

This I did not!
I know his voice,
as a child knows his father.

Then on I go,
to preside again.

Because I headed his voice,
nothing, was there.

On this Mother's Day

To this, to then.
This Mother's Day,

To then, to this,
Go forth, and now

To Joy go forth,
to share it now.

To rise, to fall
then onward go.

To luv, my Mom,
and then my wife.

To bring the joy,
then, now we share.

Then on, to forth,
to our daughter now.

On Mothers Day

To Mothers, this day,
Then not my best.

To this, then Mothers,
Then tobe.

She loved me, then,
Now, both they do.

The first, then Mom,
now then, my wife.

To honor, both then
This then, I do.

Then to another,
She then, will be.

Mothers, till then,
They all, then be.

This then , this poem

To separate God, from my culture. 
This then, this poem
Is, tobe....

Caffeine and the Word of Wisdom

He said not to drink caffeine,
the minister did,
if i wanted to go on a mission
then drink it not,

it is law 
Gods law,
the word of wisdom.

I was then faithful.
To the law.

or was I?

I potted the plant

Nephi, cut off, the head of Laban ...

I potted the plant.

if I were but more, faithfull

would I still pot the plant?

Death comes knocking at our door,

urging me to let it in ...

but then I potted the plant.

Nephi lopped off the head, 

to preseve,.

the history,

of the family.

I potted the plant

to preserve,

life, of the one.

I then free to choose,

my actions this day.

The consequence less,

and the price,

I too pay.

On mommas poem

I found the poem, today.
the one to daddy,
before he was daddy.

Momma had the prettiest penmanship,
but spell, she could not,
to save her life.

I loved to read, mommas letters.

To me, she wrote one,
when I broke my arm,
as a child.

I found it in the baby book ...
the one she started,
but never completed ...

Their was a shadow, on the book,
left by the trauma, of my surgery,
at birth.

Momma luved Daddy,
the kind of luv that stays,
and works things out.

I want that kind of luv,
for my wife and children.

To stay and work things out.

Maybe someday,
they will find my letters, and poems,
and feel my luv for
my wife, and their grandmother.

When we started the war

It began in Daviess County.

We the persecuted ones,

we left New York

we left Kirtland

we left Missouri

we left Illinois

then came Utah, and Mountain Meadows,

but then we started the war.

In Far West, on July 4 1838, we said no more.

Sidney Rigdon, and The Salt Sermon.

We warned the Missourians,

what would happen,

if thy continued, 

then, we burned their homes,

and destroyed their goods

Because we said, no more

Now we are alone at Hauns Mill,

because, He said no more,

They are My children too ...

our homes destroyed, because,
He said no more.

Now we learn at Liberty Jail-Temple

to say no more, and learn to serve and protect

This, then, his way, now.

Then on, to be alone, 

no more ...

Into the Danger Zone

It was a Kenny Loggins night,

There by the banks of the old canal,
behind the elementary school,
theme from "Top Gun",
on the WalkMan.

This place, full of memories, bad ...
and good, on the highway,
to the danger zone

She was his first, and still his only ...

Tomorrow, at the Temple,
they will covenant to be one.

Together, they will share,
This ride, into the wind.

But for now, He thinks
Of the dance, to come.

This life, together, and apart.

They Danced

Why continue, the dance.

Nearly 50 years, separated only by death.

She really wanted the 50, years.

Come together, separate, then together ...
Again.

Their had been other lovers but only one
Real, luv.

Why continue the dance?

She really luved him but life,
With him, was hard.

She never let anyone close, really close

But the dance they shared,
The life they shared.

It ment so much, to them, and the children.

Is love then truly an act and not a feeling.

To endure the heartache and pain.

This then the dance, together and apart.

The scars we carry

We both carry the scars,
the ones from our darkest day.

I for the life I lived,
He from the life I lived.

Dark with dispair, was I.
To carry my dispair, did he.

How I long to speak, to him,
of our scars.

He must have luved me,
as I long to luv them now.

This is a dream we share,
the scars that bind us ...

Eternally.

On learning new things

Difficult things, I seek to know.
Yet thus explain,  I cannot.
And little understand, do I yet.

I ponder them now,
These many years

Long do to I desire,
to share these thoughts.

Then why do you not,
understand me thus?

To win an argument,
I do not, then seek.

I want to share, a truth.

Maybe the day, will come,
when better prepared to receive, you are

Or more able, to explain, I am.

Till then, shall we dance,
and be friends.

On her paintings

She painted,
In water colors and oil.

Whence she started, I do not know.

Late in life, I do suppose.

In life, I did not appreciate them.

Long gone, she is now.

Charlene her daughter in law
She was living with, when grandma died.

She sent them to my sister.

We have them now.

I long for her presence,
the paintings will do..
for Now.

Maybe my children will have my poetry,
when gone, I am, too.

Will they long for me, as I do, for her ...
Now

The Castle

Their is a castle set
In the middle of our town

A castle built
To house a God.

Their are battlements,
But no keep and bailey

I have seen it,
from my bedroom window,
this lifetime.

We build temples,
so God can be with us, in our midts.

Emmanuel.

Long before I understood,
why we built them,

I wondered,

Why? battlements.

They were Englishman,
The first ones.

But Swedes, and Swiss , Germans too.

Refugees from their homeland,
Come to build Gods Kingdom

My people left The United States,
to gain religious Freedom.

Having been conquered, in the Mexican American war,

They then became territory.

The Utah Territory.

Their first governor, a prophet,
battled Johnston's Army,
to a stalemate.

For fourty years they battled to leave and then to rejoin The United States.

So the first four temples in Utah all have battlements.

A sign of victory, through defeat.

The choice

Why choose,
to end a life.

Mistakes he had made,
and been forgiven.

Then came, new life,
a wife, and 2 children.

Still the demons haunted him.

The seizures, waking,
have returned again.

He tried, so hard,

To begin life, anew.

I have had dark hours too.

I know the despair felt, that day.

Luckily no access to guns, did I have,
on my day.

Others live with our choices, too.

Now two babies have no father.
The world has one more widow.

And I am a loss,
to explain, the choice.

On creating midrash

She had told him,
The young life, had been wasted?

Or did she.

He ask momma,
Why his daughter died.

His daughter being less then 6 months.

Crib death they called, it.
No explanation, no answer.

He ask Momma,
Why.

To help you be a man.

He said I am not a man, I have not changed.

He heard, "Your daughters life's was wasted"

He then became a man, and changed.

This is the story, I heard,
as I studied,
at his table.

Two lives improved, by her short life.

Now I tell you the story.

This is the power of myth,  as it becomes midrash.

The poems

To this then the poems.

Come forth unannounced
Unaware.

I call them forth, naught.

From whence do the come?

Come forth thence do, they.

To bless, and to share.

Thus,
therapy, could be they?

Share them, do I,
Then.

In hopes to bring forth,
The light.

For all to share.

This, Then, be Sacred

It was oil, olive,
Then was it, naught.

Together, they nelt,

Together, they prayed.

How does one seek forgiveness,
of the self.

To then hallow, the vulgar, choice.

To remove,
this, then, the pain.

Thus, to bless the oil,
and then the act.

To make this, then, sacred, the choice.

To the moment they shared.

That peace may come,
and the pain,
be no more.

For to remove, is to restore,
and safeguard life.

This then, the choice, he made.

When to plant, the pot.

Nephi had done it.
Many prophets did it
Defied the culture
To save a life.

Now we plant the pot.

It is a risk.
The risk we bare.

He who plants, 24 years.

We who grow, our home, and freedom.

We risk it all.
For the one we luv

Now to bare fruit.

The cure it came.

To share another day.
With the one we luv.

Acts 10:9-16

The blanket,
it was spread forth,
on the roof top.

All the unclean food.

"Take eat this is my body"

Three times the command was repeated.

Then the meal was removed.

Three times he had denied Christ, before.

He had been ever faithfull,
Ever since.

But this seamed a bridge, too far.

He pondered thus.

Can anything be impure,
What God has made pure.

When the men came,
from Cornelius,
he journied, thus.

Have I denied,
the pure,
unpure.

The pot was planted,
the pure,
unpure.

The prisoner, in his jail cell.
The unloved.
The unwashed.

To have not left,
The cave.

To leave behind the burden,
the expectation of his culture.

To be with, and strengthen,
the impure.

Those with heavy burdens.

This was his task,
and desire.

The scares, He bore.

The knife, it was not sharp,

Just enough,

Serrated, thus it was,

Small in size.

Designed to portion a steak

into smaller pieces.

It had rested on the table.

Left from a previous meal.

It was a tough morning,

leading to a tough day.

One was dying, was she?

and one was taking the covenants,

of marriage.

Both performed,

one the marriage,

one the promise.

He was uncertain of his place, in both lives.

Luck had it there were no guns in the house.

Still,

Would they really care in the morning?

There was a lot of blood,

Still..

On Plato's Cave

Success and family was what, then he saught, always.

Long lived they in the cave.

The images that surrounded, them.

Were they real, or naught.

The others, outside, had such expectations.

He wanted to be with them too.

To be with them, this he could naught.

So he lived two lives, between the real and the cave.

Someday he would be naught.

Maybe his God would judge him naught.

But leave them, in the cave, he could naught.

Until they freed themselves.

Was it not the cave, Plato's cave.

Escape it once he did, almost.

But return then he must.

They could not see the real for the image.

For to leave them he could bare, naught.

So this then, was his task.

To be with them, and strengthen them, until they freed their own chains.

Then together they would leave the cave...

Tobe their naught.

On Mr Frodo and Gethsemane.

What be their task.
Here in the garden.

Know they not then, this burden.

Come to gloat, had they now,
Or only to mourn, this one.

If this be the failure, final.
All will be lost.

How to strengthen him then.
Thus now they confired.

This burden, could carry, they not,
For man
For God.

The blood it flowed, drop by drop.

Once before their had been such a scene.

High on Mount Doom, in Mordor, a task almost too much, for this one to bare.

Mr Frodo, all spent from burden, thus carried.

It had all seamed in vain.

Till came the friend, who walked the path.

Samwise Gamgee

"Come, Mr. Frodo!' he cried. 'I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you."

So do angel's imitate men and hobbits.

This lesson they share.

On Celtic Bishops.

What of the Celtic Bishop's.

Born so long ago.

How long did they preserve, the church?

... after the fall of the empire.

This long time, they served humanity, and transmitted culture, and learning.

St. Patrick's grandfather was one.

How they loved and cherished their wives.

To nourish the church in the wilderness,
was it not, their lives vocation.

Till in her beauty, she came forth, in all her strength, and magistry.

From whence doth it come?

The poetry.

Like a fountain.
A Volcano ,
A perrenial flower, that fails to bloom ,

... when neglected.

Long do'th it question me.

Like a Jungian apparition. 

... uncalled for it comes.

To the answers I seek,

Only questions, are provided.

Like a twisted, Douglas Adams dream.

The answer is 42, but what of the question.

Still together we dance,
The poetry, and I.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Jung

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_Adams

Douglas Adams wrote "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy". In the latest version we learn the Earth was created by the mice to learn the eternal question, the answer, to which, is 42.

On Being Vulgar ...

I am a Vulgar man.
Less common with the coming years.

I learned to swear, like Brother Brigham.

Life does that to you.

This life happens, as you are making other plans.

Promised a large righteous posterity, by one who knew I was sterile.

Never to create new life in this world.

How does one become less common, more vulgar.

Feeling less mormon, and  more christlike each day.

I planted the pot.

I adopted two children from one who could create new life, special gift, from one who loves our family.

A gift, I hope to repay someway.

I helped to prosecute a young man who misused his reproductive powers.

Then purchased a van to visit him for several years.

To let him know he was not his crime.

This commoness
This Vulgarness

Trade, with the coming years.

Till I become less like me,
and more like him.

On the light of Christ

What of them, the Other,
Who never learned his name,

nor sacred covenants made.

Dammed to hell,
thus we're told.

Alvin Smith was the Other,
so was the Buddha.

Both came before the restoration,

of all things.

What is this Light Of Christ.

A power sent, and a gift offered,

To guide Them, to him, and lead, 

Them, to the Father.

Then comes the temple, and a chance,

to offer, the covenants to all.

The past, and the future children of God.

Prepared are they now, for his presence, and to preside in the Divine Council.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alvin_Smith_(brother_of_Joseph_Smith)#Death

On the importance of tolerance ..

They said I must be, tolerant,
of the Other .

The Catholics were tolerant,
of the Protestants.

The Whites were tolerant,
of the Blacks.

The Missourian's were tolerant,
of the Mormon's.

I am told, tolerance,
will be enough.

How do I learn to need ...

the Other?

The newly married,

same gendered couple,
on the back row.

The One addicted to,
Porn,
Booze,
Food,
Sex,

The unloved.
The unwashed.

The Bishop unwilling to accept,
the one child, who no longer believes.

I, Myself, 

Who now struggles,
to hold to a belief,
I have luved from youth.

My Momma has taught me to luv,
the Other.

Can we learn to embrace, and need ...

The other,

till we come,
to a greater,
understanding,

Of the Other, like me.

Does the song remember when?

Does the song?

Know when, to remember,

Or when,  to forget.

Memories of Momma, on my mind.

When will come the children.

To long for them we do.

Do I remember the future, or is it the past.

This time too, shall pass.

This road to come, long it is,

Here I am in Momma's van.

Trisha Yearwood,  playing on the tape deck.

"The Song Remembers When".

When to love, when to cry, and when to try again.

To still the anger, then be one/won

He was angry with one of them.
With which one, he was not certain.

He had kissed them both.

In his life, their had only been two.

One gave him life, the other shared his bed.

Why spread the anger at the first, to the second?

The second had urged him, to settled the anger , with the first.

He was unwilling, to do the same.

So it spoiled his time, with the second.

Before the death of the first, their was reconciliation, and real forgiveness.

Now how to return to the second, to diminish the void, he created.

... this then is his quest.

On the cemetery, at Grants Ward.

I went to the cemetery today,
in Grants Ward, to see if Momma, was there.

Momma and I had been there, together, many times before.

This was not the first place I checked.

I  First, went to the one in Swan Lake.

The place of her Grandma and Grandpa's remains.

The baby they lost, and grandmas sister, they were not there.

My family has lived with death, for so long.

In ten years grandma lost,
Nada, Ken, Grandpa, Fred, and a grandson too, Willard's boy.

I lost my wife, too then, nearly,

This cure then, to be grateful for ...

There are wild roses near the graves, in Grants Ward.

My family still comes each spring,
to clean the graves.

Long gone but not forgotten.

My Grandmas's favorite song was My Wild Irish Rose.

My Aunt's and Uncle's sang it each year, at the family reunion.

Their tuning was wild, like the wild Irish rose.

Still, I felt the love in their hearts as they sang for their parents.

I have some of the wild roses, in my yard.

From the cemetery, in Grants Ward. 

Like the wild Irish rose, that was my grandmother.

Transplanted they are, like the memories, of my Mom.

The experiences with Mom, are like the roses, a little bit wild.

They grow best when left to their own, unmolested, but remembered.

Grants Ward is a geographical designation,

Between Swan Lake and Downy Idaho.

Bannock County, Idaho

Latitude: 42.4012694

Longitude: -112.0380434

It is the place my Grandparents homesteaded,

before they lost the baby and moved to Logan Utah.

It is near the Byington Family Grave site.
http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~idbancem/downey_area_cemeteries/grant_ward/grant_ward_cemetery.htm

On the other, moms

She wanted to be his mom,
She did.

They all did.

All of the Aunt's
Wanted to be his mom.

He luved his Mom
Or so he thought.

But still tobe angry,
And very angry, still.

If he choose an aunt, to be his mom,
life would be better, so much better.

But which grandma, would he lose.

Thinking of the lost husbands, and babies, too.

The ones they had lost, to create what he was,

He will pay the price, to forgive and be forgiven.

That his children may have a father, they may choose to honor.

This then, is, his prayer.

To the end of, his days.

On the importance, of the poetry.

It was long his dream,
To write the history.

He tried once,
So long ago.

The journals in high school.

The letters to his children.

They were too complete,
in his brokeness.

How to help you to luv them,
He saught.

Then comes the poetry.

Poetry is broken, and incomplete.

This is the blessing, and a way, to show,

The luv.

A man and his murse ...

Why does a man need purse?

I knew a man, who had a jewelry box.

I have been accused, of being that man,
Little Eddie Jr.

In my purse, I have 5 Android devices,
And their chargers.

O' and my wallet too.

It was purchased for a small netbook,
But now it is a murse, a man's purse.

We go many places, together.

I always have it nearby.

Once in the hospital, I had no charger.

Now like a good Eagle Scout, I am always prepared.

It has a spare battery powered charger, two bluetooth headphones.,
And lots of good USB cables .

I hope you are prepared with a murse, or a jewelry box.

On Mommas, twin sister

Momma had a twin sister,
they were born 18 months apart.
Where one would go, the other would follow

for years they shared a bedroom,
and a bed too.

Momma had the babies
her sister helped to raise them.

having three children,
in a short time,
momma needed help, with the babies.

momma, took her sister, on their vacations
they shared a bed then too.
momma was in the middle,
just so daddy's eyes did not roam too far.

they luved the babies together,
momma and her sister.

in the summer's, after her marriage
momma sister would take a child, for a week or two.

her sister ached for her unborn child
momma's children helped fill the void.

I luved momma and I luved her sister,
They really completed each other.