This then still, an update

This, then still

This, then still,

There he lies.

The stench of death,

It lingers by ...

It is the death, 

The one he has longed for.

Now I will rob him of the death,

the good death.

Soon will come the EMT, the ambulance too.

The stench of death to be removed,

from his room, as will he.

Doctors there will be, and hospitals too.

Soon, to be replaced,

By another room, in another place.

A living death, with a different smell.

The smell of nursing homes and people being stored.

The guilt than for the good death,

I robbed him of.

Grace and Mercy

We all carry the burden of sin.

You Offer Me Grace,
I will offer you Mercy.

Grace; is the space I need to grow from where I am now, to where he wants me to be.

Mercy; is the ability I will have to help carry your burden when I have grown stronger.

Facebook
May 9, 2015

Playing for the other team

She played for the other team now.

Why had it come to this,
screwed by every man,
She sleeped with.

First her brother when young.
Then another in high school.

Father blamed her for brother,
and little sister.

The day in court, his brother,
now in jail.

The family then, is broken.

So now she plays for the other team.

Will this, now, then be different.

A new cast of lovers, different team, same problem.

This new separation, and lack of intimacy.

Maybe now she can love herself.
Heal herself.

Then once more, real Intimacy?
With the one she loves.

Ode to the Poem

#1 Love Letter: Ode to the Poem

To my dear sweet poem

,

You are like a tiny seedling from a mighty pine tree, sitting fallow for years, on the forest 

floor, waiting for that majestic fire to set you free.

I wonder where you come from, little poem, this piece of magic, this gift from God.  You sat silent, for years at the center of my soul, bursting forth at that great fire, then at the coming death of the one I love and adore.

You were the first one to come to me, I never longed for you, as I longed for the birth of my children, yet here you are, my first creation. I was sitting on the back porch of our home when you first came to me. The family was sitting in the back, around the fire, enjoying a laugh or two. I struggled to see how I fit, into their world.  Always at work was I, seeking the funds to keep us afloat.

The gardener was returning joy to the ones, whose laughter I had not heard, in years. He had come, to produce the cure, an herbal recipe, growing in the garage.  I had no faith in the cure.   It was good to hear her laugh. Cancer would consume her soon but the children would be left with the memories from the gardener.  He had come to bring the cure, but joy supplied him also.

You came with your gift, lying fallow at the center of my soul.  It consoled me, supplied the strength to continue.  Years it would take to find my place, in their lives again.  The anger and guilt and shame came out in the poetry. First to Facebook and then to select close friends. Then to the one, I loved. This then to return to intimacy long lost. I am thankful for your gift, dear poem.

To Live 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 wife’s cancer when we believed she was terminal.

I was born sterile; my children were both adopted and they are the light of my life.

On the Birth of Poetry

Like a tiny seedling from a mighty pine tree, it sat fallow for years, on the forest floor, waiting for that majestic fire to set it free.

He wondered where it came from, the poetry, never a desire of his was it. This magic, this gift from God.  It sat silent, for years at the center of his soul, bursting forth at that great fire, the coming death of the one he loved and adored.

The first one came sitting on the back porch of their home. The family was sitting in the back, around the fire. Enjoying a laugh or two. He struggled to see how he fit, in their world.  At work was he always, seeking the funds to keep them afloat.

The gardner was returning joy to the ones, who's laughter he had not heard, in years. It was good to hear her laugh. The cancer would consume her soon but the children would be left with the memories from the gardner.  He had come to bring the cure, but joy supplied he also. 

You came with your gift them. Laying fallow at the center of his soul.  It consoled him, supplied the strength to continue.  Years it would take to find his place, in their lives again.  The anger, and guilt and shame, came out in the poetry. First to Facebook and then to select close friends.  Then to the one he loved. This then to return to intimacy long lost. He then thankful for your discovery of the poetry.

On Delayed Intimacy

Why can he not,
fullfill, this one request.

The stubborn, refusal,
this one, thing,
years of intimacy, lost.

Does he not know,
I feel the loss, too.

He thinks not of my needs.
He thinks this is pain, I now inflict
To win, a battle of wills.

I fear more, for his loss,
our loss, if give in,
then do I,
as times, before.

Someday he will come to see,
my loss, our loss,
together.

I hope by then,
it is not, to late,
to recover, true intimacy.

on loving his wife.

He remembered why he loved her.
He remembered why she chose him.
The things that were special,
about them.

In remembering,
he sought forgiveness,
and warmth, and intimacy.

To rebuild and renew,
a life with the one he cherished. 

So grateful for the life,
she has renewed,
today, together.

The Last Lover

She, then this,
my lover be.

If not the first,
she then be?

Then ever such,
shall we see.

Then feed my soul,
thus will she.

Then this search,
this lifetime be.

No others lover's, 
then we see.

Then, thus the last,
we shall we be.

A poem Jose Christensen ask me to write for his wife.

Within it's shadow

He has lived within
it's shadow for nearly 55 years.

It was the first commenced,
and the last completed,
in the Utah Territory.

He has visited it grounds
many times.

Visiting the interior, only once,
for the marriage, of a family member.

These then visits to the exterior,
this, then continued,
for years.

Like yearly visits, to his soul.

Someday, to the interior,
he will go,
this, then to visit,
like yearly trips,
to his soul.

The First Loss - Together

Is a pain,
if cause not real,
less felt this day?

Their first loss come,
those first few months,
then twins she thought.

Deeply felt he the loss.

Not remember by now,
does she.

Yet deep in the journals,
are his thoughts, from that day.

Brother Bair, and the blessing,,
that day.

Years later, they would learn,
born not, able to create life,
was he, that day.

Still deeply felt he the loss,
that day.

Was the pain, and the loss,
felt that day, a gift,
from the one eternal,
who loves them, this day.

This he carries,
as an understanding,
to this day.

On Baby Fat

No baby fat, had she.

No stretch marks.

No signs of birth,
on her body that day.

Thus his brothers wife noticed,
on the beach, that summer day.

Jealous was she, this sister-in-law,
of her legs, that day.

Little could she know of his wife's desire,
for stretch marks and signs of birth,
on her body, that day.

The years of birth controls pills taken,
not to prevent birth, but to preserve,
the possibility, someday.

This life she has built,
my wife, this day.

Then with her mother, raised they
6 children, this day.

The two, from the handmaiden,
who loved them this day.

Then this desire,
for the fruits, of her womb,
was felt then, past days.

If you have them,
marks of birth, on your body,
this day.

Be grateful for the fruits,
of your womb, then, this day.

On Being Married to Martha

Martha was in the kitchen,
preparing the food.

Mary sat at Jesus feet,
learning the truths,
of the Gospel.

Mary studied the Gospel,
Martha lived it.

I am married to a Martha,
and Mary, then I be.

Dispointed am I,
that Milton discuss,
she will not.

Their are meals to prepare,
and a house to clean.

On those rare occasions,
it is finished,
an afagan she starts,
or a quilt she cuts out.

I knew she was Martha,
when I married her.

Then disappointed, why be I,
that Mary, she is not.

Remember I must,
why I chose her,
and she chose me.

Mary and Martha, one team
May we be.

Thru a glass darkly

We see through a glass, darkly .

This then a mirror,
of brass, not of glass.

This then, not a true, reflection,
of me.

If we marry someone who loves to swim is it fair to be unhappy they will not fly with us. Yes we grow together, but fish don't fly and birds don't swim. If you are a fish married to a bird, remember why you made that choice and be great full for the time you share together.

If I were you, Colin Raye

On the wedding

Here we sit,
in the church,

The Cultural Hall,
not the chapel.

We are Latter-Day Saints,
you see.

We marry, in the Temple,
or The Cultural Hall

This new life,
this new family,
has been, and is now.

They commence this journey,
together, this day.

My wife and I, this journey,
began together, a time ago.

Now the two, together,
plus two, began the journey
anew this day.

Let the cycle began, today,
and continue,
this now.

Devin, Tiffany  Lieshman wedding April 13 2019

When they married they had one son together and one son from a previous relationship.

Between the liquid and the solid

It began on that first day.

Delivery, from the canal.

The one, between,
the liquid, and the solid waste.

This then the human condition,
thus begins, anew.

Two Afghans

Their are two now,
afghans, on his bed.

One from one,
who, created his life.

The second from the one,
who shares it now.

Both now shelter his heart,
as they shelter, his sleep .

He seeks now to renew,
his place with each.

At one time , or another
he rejected both, afghans.

The first, too heavy,
Being double stich.

It was stored, by his wife,
and placed at the foot,
of their bed, in the winter.

The second, is similar to the one,
he rejected,
on that first Christmas,
together.

She made it for him,
on their many dates, that fall,
and winter.

Now to turn back the clock,
to shelter their two hearts,
as the afgans shelter him,
this day.

On the first night, together

It was their first night together,
as a couple.

It was a family hunting trip,
with his parents.

They shared separate sleeping bags,
together.

His brother, questioned,  their decision.

His brother, was enjoying the warmth,
of his sleeping bag,
with his new girlfriend.

Little did, his brother understand,
the nature,
of their future covenant's.

The promise of real intimacy,
if they kept that covenant.

The children that would come,
and their life together,
if they kept, their covenant.

On life Eternal, the coming day

She awakes in the morning,
to prepare for the coming day.

Husband, children
these always on her mind.

The coming projects,
and the ones past due.

These have been her life,
these past, coming years.

Now to be grateful for,
the continuation, of life.

This there was a time,
that may not be.

This then to be grateful for,
the comings days.

On the Gardener

He invited a gardner,
to plant a garden.

This then to renew, a life,
He adores.

The time for departure, comes soon
much too soon.

This then, the promise,
of renewal.

He lived with this dread,
this day, for decades.

The time of departure,
they thought not of, together.

Life was full, and this was future,
far future.

Then the bell does toll,
the time now comes.

Does he have the faith,
to trust in the gardener,
This, they will, then, see.

On living with Nada

There she is, at the family reunion.

Always present, though long gone.

She was missing, from, before I was born.

I have vague memories, of her children, from before, the separation.

I live with the trauma, and the tragedy, though not understanding, its cause.

My grandfather, Leo too, is gone, and Fred her brother.

These were long gone, before my birth.

They spoke often, of her, the aunts and uncles.

Young they were, when this loss, they experienced.

I suspect, PTSD, though undiagnosed,

runs ramped in the family,

Elnora, lost her mother, Lauretta, early in life,

Lauretta, choosing to take the last child, with her, in death.

These stories, of her, of them, I learn and share.

The house and apartment, built by Carl, her husband.

The first, to house the family. The second, to feed it.

How do I live with, the memories, of the ones?

I have never met.

On Prokaryote

"In the beginning, "
they were whole,
one, complete.

Then came the division,
when recognize, her, there,
He did not.

Prokaryote:  

Single cell lifeform, 

simple, whole and complete.

As a lifeform,
They share all.
No protective layer,
surrounding, their essence,

true intimacy.

Had the first ones,
Adam and Eve,
been Prokaryote?

"In the beginning, "
before the loss, of recognition,

and the division?

On Male PMS

He was the one,
in the family,
with PMS.

There, he spent,
the first morning, as a family,
on the bathroom floor,
the tears they did flow.

How many times, again,
had they flowed.

The loss of the first ones,
two she had said,
then a new family, they had been,
or so she concieved,
the loss, then real, or not,
then felt the same.

They were fighting, the morning,
when the first one did come.
and many days still, as one,
they become.

30 years past and the tears,
still flow, for him, for her, for them.

As now two separate homes,
they build together.

On the smell of new life, creation.

Let's make a baby, she said,
there on her waterbed.

This, then, installed last week,
when her things, they moved in.

She was the first,
and would remain, the one only,
to make such a request.

Her Dad had feared,
the roof would collapse,
on the family home,
when her trousseau,
She, removed.

It contained all,
the ingredients needed,
to create a family,
cept, a husband.

Thirty years, she waited,
for this day.

It was not the first night,
but second.

The first night,
a pajama night,
had been.

The temple wedding,
the reception, in Franklin,
with family, and friends.

These had taken,
all her energy,
that first night.

That first morning, he spent,
crying in the bathroom,
at this apartment.

She left,  the Family Breakfast,
early, to the temple,
with her best friend.

She thought,
she was offering,
a kindness.

He thought,
she preferred,
her best friend.

Then were the smells,
on the morning,
of the third day.

they awoke early,
to prepare for this
their new life,
together.

No time for a honeymoon.
That would never come.

He was needed,
at the repair shop.

She, a home,
to organize.

Coming home that night,
the apartment clean
a fridge with food,
dinner on the table,
and clean laundry.

These things,
his mom,
did not ...

these then, new smells,
then did surprise him,
that morn'.

Like the smell,
of the ice cream bucket,
in their friends truck,
containing the nauseous, contents
of a nights dinner.

The one held to celebrate,
the arrival of the couples,
first child, that next spring.

the smell of new love,
and stale sex.

like two moose,
rutting in the woods,
bringing new life, to the world.

or two socks,
sitting in the bottom,
of the hamper,
waiting to be renewed,
at next weeks laundry.

The gentle nibbling,
on her ear, as they sought,
to start, that new life,
together.

These are the smells,
that surprised him,
that second morning.

The large righteous, posterity,
God had promised him.

Create not together,
they would.

These babies would come,
from one, who loved, them all.

This, new source
a handmaiden, she would be.

In the Torah, a handmaiden,
is the one, to supply a new life,
when no life, create, the couple,
together.

Hagar, Ruth, and Mary,
such handmaidens,
had been to God
and the family.

In time, her sister,
then one, would be.

Still the smells, the next morn',
he would forget not.

The life, this then, they nurture,
together, this day.

On Coyote Sex

There he lay,
howling at the hole.

How had he driven, her.
To this place.

This lack of , intimacy.

Once young love,
they had been,
together, and apart.

The first time,
on the second day.

This nibbling,
On the ear.

This request is then,
To help, to make a baby.

This then request, had failed.

Then did come, the babies.
From one who luved them, all.

Then life gets , busy, complicated.

Then the cancer, and the anger and the loss, of real intimacy.

By then, much time, has passed.

Now begins the third marriage,
To the first wife.

Does he court her again?

Two homes they create, together,
Again.

The nightly phones calls.
The weekly visits,
To remind her again,
How valued, she is,
To him.

Now tobe, renewed,
intimacy.

This then, is his task.

She painted the ceiling blue v1

She painted the ceiling blue.
How many times had she been in this position,
Late night sharing an intimacy.
Young love when it was good for her.
Before the children.
Then later when to fullfill his needs.
Now it all became routine.
So she painted the sealing blue.
How to then return to the love of youth.
When it was good for her, for him, for them?

On Vulgar Notions

Part the First: The Blue Ceiling.

How many times had she been in this position,
Late night sharing an intimacy.
Young love when it was good for her,
before the children.

Then later,
when to fill his needs,
it all became routine,
So, she painted the ceiling blue.

How to then return,
to the intimacy of youth.

When it was good for her,
for him,
for them?

Part the second: A vulgar notion.

A lover says, 

it was good for me.

A prostitute says, 

was it good for you.

A wife says, blue blue, 

I think I will paint,

the ceiling blue.

"I believe firmly in the value of all vulgar notions, especially of vulgar jokes. When once you have got hold of a vulgar joke, you may be certain that you have got hold of a subtle and spiritual idea."
(G.K. Chesterton, All Things Considered)

The town square.

The town square,
Was a triangle.

Grandma was on a bar crawl.
Saturday, in Kemmer Wyoming.

Grandpa was the drinker,
In the family.

I think grandma,
just needed a night out.

By then Grandpa was gone.

With most of the family,
Grown, with their own babies.

Still there were young ones,
At home.

Off to bed, were the kids,
Or so she thought.

When left, she did
They started their own,

Bar crawl.

Got advance notice of Gramma's,
Journey.

Then off to a new bar,

One bar ahead,

Of grandma.

This story,

Aunt Nancy, 

luved to tell.

Now I tell you.

Link Willard Stephen Byington Personal History

Willard Stephen Byington Personal History

The Letters in the Cedar Chest

Now we return, from the burial.

Nearly fifty year's has it been.

He was not the first,
he would remain,
the last.

Nearly 50 years, the covenant,
she then, kept.

Lordy lordy, then how this day.

A  promise, she made.
A promise she kept.

Still the letters,
she kept, from the first one,
in the cedar chest.

Were they dreams,
of an everyday housewife.

To hold to the promise,
while remembering,
the past?

Life was difficult with Daddy.

This I learn now,
as I share the burden,
this day.

This luv we share,
this promise we keep,
then, this day.

So if keeping the letters,
from the first,
help renew, the present,
then who I am to judge,  the choice,
For the strength, it provides.

This day.

On ironing and waiting

Their she waited,
By the back door,
Ironing clothes, to pass the time.

This having something do,
While, she waits.

This young one,
This product, of love.
The gift of the body,
Like the others, too.

How to help him,
Be a man.

With a large brood,
Time with each,
Is hard, to come by.

When he left,
Such words, of anger,
Between us then.

Never coming home, he said.
I am a man, he said.

Does a man, do this to his mother?

Maybe come home,
He will not,
Then this my heart, will be broken.

Still I wait.

As so many others wait,
Their by.

Always the light on,
And a lesson to share,
This then child,
Becomes a man.

To the Generations

I care for my oldest child,

now 

as he cared for me,

then.

I mature, 

He has not.

How to luv, 

and care,

For the one, 

I adore.

this that they, 

may care for me...

When?

*I am my father's legal guardian.

The Motel and Dance

Made it home,
early, then,
the vacancy sign,
was lite.

Come home now,
to clean house,
for your Daddy
this day.

Maybe Daddy will work,
half a day, their being,
no burial today.

Daddy loves to dance,
it may kill him,
someday.

The Elks have a band,
this day, this Saturday.

Ten children,
to feed,
the motel to clean
and Voyle's wedding,
come soon.

This then the fight with Nancy,
the dishes this day.

I know Voyle's needs to help?
But this battle is a fight, I have lost,
long ago.

Lordy child,
how did I go so wrong,
with this one.

What my brother did was wrong,
so wrong.
This then the guilt,
I carry this day.

Lynn too, we will learn to love.
That child, I wonder if mature,
he ever will,
someday.

When come the babies,
to that two.
We will love and cherish,
and mourn this day.

Then another house to clean,
for their babies ,
a fresh start, that day.

To clean this,
a house, seams woman's work,
this day.

As men work,
to clean their lives,
this then,
love finds a way.

To make the dance,
this day.

Forsaken not, me

Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani.

I believed in the end,
that a lamb would be found,
in the thicket.

did you not find a lamb,
for Abraham.

Thus alone, now,
am I.

this time has come,
now i pay the price,
the full price,
for their sins.

Then am I,
the lamb in the thicket,
you found, for abraham.

then this cup I shall drink,
this penalty I shall pay.

For you love, them,
as do I.

-- 

Steven Bassett

On Personal Revelation

Revelation comes on the Lord’s timetable, which often means we must move forward in faith, even though we haven’t received all the answers we desire.

Alexander D. Hale, Personal Revelation: The Teachings and Examples of the Prophets, General Conference, October 2007 |

John Milton also learned this lesson the hard way.  Toward the end of his life, when the English Republic failed and he had not received his epic poem, he pondered if his life mission was a failure.   He then received this poem.

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."

John Milton, On his blindness, 1673

We never know what God has in waiting to bless us.  We must be willing to wait and serve and listen to what he desires us to do with our lives.  With the Baptism of my only child, I thought I would never perform a priesthood ordinance for another child.  Little did I know the blessings that would follow with the adoption of my son.

So wait but also move forward and seek to bless the lives of his children, while he seeks to bless us with things in the due, and proper time.

On Proper family size.

A portion of this quote has been moving around the web and on Facebook. 

“"The most merciful thing a large family does to one of its infant members is to kill it." Margaret Singer

It took me less time to find and locate the book this quote came from, thanks to Google, then it took to format, and compose this response.    

My mother faced the same dilemma in creating her own family.  My youngest brother was born impaled by an intrauterine device.  She had seen the effects of having many children on her mother’s family.  It was one of her biggest fears. She knew she was fertile, like her mother, and could have a very large family, with a child born every 14 months.   Her first three babies came between January 1964 and February 1967.  Still, she mourned the loss of Dana Allen Bassett the remainder of her days.

“Thus, we see that the second and third children have a very good chance to live through the first year. Children arriving later have less and less chance, until the twelfth has hardly any chance at all to live for twelve months.

“This does not complete the case, however, for those who care to go farther into the subject will find that many of those who live for a year die before they reach the age of five. Many, perhaps, will think it idle to go farther in demonstrating the immorality of large families, but since there is still an abundance of proof at hand, it may be offered for the sake of those who find difficulty in adjusting old-fashioned ideas to the facts. The most merciful thing that the large family does to one of its infant members is to kill it. The same factors which create the terrible infant mortality rate, and which swell the death rate of children between the ages of one and five, operate even more extensively to lower the health rate of the surviving members. Moreover, the overcrowded homes of large families reared in poverty further contribute to this condition. Lack of medical attention is still another factor so that the child who must struggle for health in competition with other members of a closely packed family has still great difficulties to meet after its poor constitution and malnutrition have been accounted for.

The probability of a child handicapped by a weak constitution, an overcrowded home, inadequate food and care, and possibly a deficient mental equipment, winding up in prison or an almshouse, is too evident for comment. Every jail, hospital for the insane, reformatory and institution for the feeble minded cries out against the evils of too prolific breeding among wage workers. We shall see when we come to consider the relation of voluntary motherhood to the rights of labor and to the prevention of war that the large family of the worker makes possible his oppression, and that it also is the chief cause of such human holocausts as the one just closed after the four and a half bloodiest years in history. No such extended consideration is necessary to indicate from what source the young slaves in the child-labor factories come. They come from large impoverished families—from families in which the older children must put their often feeble strength to the task of supporting the younger. “   

Sanger, M. (2014). Woman and the new race. Middletown, DE: Creatspace Independent Publishing Platform.

Now I am in no way advocating abortion for the regulation of family size.  Every child has the right to be raised in a family that has sufficient resources to care and raise them.

I am an adoptive parent.  I was fortunate to be given two babies by a woman who loved her children.   She still does. She sees them on many occasions and follows them on Facebook.

I am saying let us regulate our families sizes and if necessary make the hard choice to place our children where they have the best opportunity to thrive.

To return the boon

I'm journeyed forth, from the cave,
once more.

To return again, with the boon.
Thus to share, saught I,

But all they saw were the images,
on the wall.

How many times, must I return,
to the place, of there confinement?

It would be so much more manageable to go.
I have the tools. I have the boon,
yet I can not leave them.

So I return,
again,
and again,
and again.
With the boon.

Until the images, for them,
become unreal,

and we leave once more ...

Together.

on being one

Male and Female created he them.

First they were them,
one, in Adam,
then Eve was removed,
for his sake.

Now they are two.

Then when, do they now,
become one?

Then?

http://www.sojourngsd.org/blog/intersex

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.