Cloud Drops

Remember it well. Largest Rain Drops

The rain we saw pouring down.

Drops bigger than clouds.



The Man in the Moon

Seeeth thou ever the man in the moon?

Searched as a child with never the boon.

In the crescent? I asked. Harvest, or half?

You see him? They’d say, with a half heart-ed laugh.

For years I squinted at the sphere in the air.

Envisioned him at leisure in his rocking chair.

Or was he standing? Or, walking? Or riding a bike?

Soon gave up looking, still as a tyke.

Years passed quickly, ne’er had I seen.

Throughout my boyhood, on through the teens.

Probably they were jeering, of me making fun.

Or, could they really see him? Guess I’m the only one.

I gave up ever looking, a sight I’d never find.

Rarely looked above me, to the moon I was blind.

Grew to be a man,  more important considerations.

Began listening to God —a lonely  heart, my only oblation—

I grew much stronger,  His love grew my faith.

Looking up to thank Him, and there it was—

His beautiful, love filled face.


Man in the moon 2 + 2

 Psalm 89:37

It shall be established for ever as the moon, and as a faithful witness in heaven.

“Coharie Slough”

From times of Colonial script ─ troubles, of Indian  lore ▒ A people then called “driftwood ,” along southern swamps and shores.

Strong enough to fight when pushed─ brave enough to stand.  Smart enough to live in peace─for a piece of what was once their land.

They fought one side or the other, in every “New World” war─ vested forthwith, the only gift ─ black-water, and the gift to drift no more.

Stories are endless, and many.  Archives of misconstrue… But between the lines of Carolina pines, The Coharie still stand true.Coharie Snake Dream Catcher 010

“Coharie Slough” Hand Carved Snake wrapped forked Bass Wood Branch with Dream Catcher… Snake  carved from woody river vine, Gator head carved into the Bass limb, and the spear head carved out of Red Cedar. Bass Wood and Cedar  stained with Red Oak, for the deeper, darker tones, and the snake stained with Natural. All leather is genuine leather made in Italy, including the wrapping on dream catcher. Comes with faux Eagle feathers, and two dancer bells. ( Inspired by the Coharie Tribe)Coharie Snake Dream Catcher 014Coharie Snake Dream Catcher 006Coharie Snake Dream Catcher 004Coharie Snake Dream Catcher 004Coharie Snake Dream Catcher 001

“Woods Art”

September Fall


  I Once  

Had A Chill

  One  September  Night.

     Granny’s Poultice Rub Took the

    Wheezing Away,Though It Was Still an

    Eighty Degree Dog Night, With Crops Still In

      The Barn.  I  Needed Rest, But Pa Forewarns.  Bank’s

  Taking The Farm, If  Something Isn’t Soon done…  Get Up

    He Said! Let’s Take Out This Barn. I Said I Would If  I could,

   But The Heat Hurts My Head. He Said if  Sherman’s Army

    Gets  Here,  We May All  Wind Up  DEAD ! So I Pulled

    Myself Upward, Staggering, I Fell Out Of The Bed.

     I Pulled All The Tobacco Out Of the Barn By

Sunup, And Rested Beneath The Old

Appletree. Sherman’s Army Took

 Another Path, And When Pa

        Came Looking The Only         

 Things Found Dieing

Were The Tree,

                                                                And Me                                                                                     joyceinumass

Paul Willis-2011       GlorymomGeneralSherman                            



Graceful  Arrogant

Clumsy,  as kittens, Fashioned

when grown it is You they have Smitten

More than lazy full day is written

Alternative thoughts










Song from Cindy ( Reposted For the One Who Inspired It)

Awesome prose. I find myself re-reading, and hearing a different cantata. Music from my inner self, watching me listening to another, instead of being led by the directive rudder… Which leaves me angling wangle, only to discover…The inner meaning, that someone writes from their song.

Sing pretty butterfly…sing Cindy sing                           

For a wonderful friend, and beautiful soul, Cindy Taylor
© – 2010 [tweetmeme source=”sonsothunder” only_single=false]

Special thanks to Mirella McCraken, and Jamie Dedes.        

“Paul’s Song”Damascus Road

Well it was on the third day when Ananias touched me, I could finally  see again, and oh what a light.

I could feel the wind blowing, though all the walls were battened down, heard the  sound of fluttering wings go by.   


It was such a strange feeling, looking back,  how blind I’ve been, could only see when my Lord covered my eyes.

Oh my God, Stephen, what have I done, I should have  run and just taken my own life.

(interlude)> But … oh,… oh,…    Damascus road.

I could not stop preaching, Jesus is the son of God, and His Glory on Damascus  road  I  saw.

I could feel their anger growing, my words had them confused, to avoid the wrath of  rabbinical Jews,  they lowered me down a wall.

He has shown me great suffering, and what I must lose, should I choose, His precious name and beckoning call.

I said my Lord, you know it’s true, I will do anything for you, lay down my life, as you died for us all.

Cause,  I was Born, Again…on Damascus road…

Chorus> ( And I thank God for you Timothy, and Luke for staying behind with me, Tim please come and visit me, before they end my life. And please bring my manuscripts, on the parchments that I wrote, and…oh by the way…bring my coat?  For Winter Is Nigh…

Acoustic gets heavy :> Electric Jams:> stanza 3> Now the Copper-Smith was ruthless, but Nero was a beast, A Small Still Voice said, they’re coming down the hall…

First they took my chains loose,then they beat my head till my soul was bruised, and rammed me into my own blood stained wall.

I don’t recall seeing a judge, I guess Satan still had a villainous grudge,

when they swung the sword that took my head……  ( Apregio )   Orchestra!!! ..~~~~~^609ISWK E_____——–@^@

(Wisper) but I just stared into heaven above, saw the Glory of  God, and the Angels above… and heard Stephen’s  sweet voice…say

..Welcome Home Paul… ( take it home boys….Jam)

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Where Are You ?

You wonder sometimes why no one ever shows;

You’ve created such wonders, a place for them all to go.

Hard to imagine, what else they expect to find out there;

When you’ve given all they’ll ever need, in one place for all of them to share.

There’s devotional time, insight, forums and news;

Yet the flock remains scattered, as words in a library, among books too numerous to choose.

There’s    creation,    drama,    action   and   love;

sea shores, mountain tops , even fire from above.

There’s conquest,  chivalry,  sermons and prayer;

Yet, still I am alone it seems, for in my quiet time, I alone am there.

Now, this may seem selfish, to those of you reading;

But,  fear not,  and do not think that it is just I pleading.

For this is not a letter from me  to  intrigue you;

But from  my own  daily forgetfulness to spend time with God;

These are the words that I hear, Softly, lovingly:    My son, ? ” Where are you” ?

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“Rosetta of Petra” city etched in stone


Oh, how sweet the words of  Burgon,

on  a city of refuge, said once more  to be;
Walls   glistening  as  Cabernet Franc,
Words of  antiquity, yet  fresh as   Chianti;
Hearing  quenches  the thirst of  the mind,
 Saying  more than ones eyes can   see;
Petra to my eyes, sweet Valpolicello,
And to my ears Burgon,  as to my lips;
the best of  sweet  Burgundies.


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