Table of Contents

You meet them every day,
they are not hard to find.
They search for every way
to make the rough refined.

Their sacrifice in red
is known to Liberty
as those who dare to tread
that road which makes man free.

From broom to crown I sing
of those who strive to bear,
(in heart as well as ring),
the compass on the square.

Their wise have always taught
that kindness is a seed
which roots itself in thought
and blossoms in the deed.

This garden Earth will green,
(the deserts made by mind),
when man fills every scene
with care for every kind.

From broom to crown I sing
of those who strive to bear,
(in heart as well as ring),
the compass on the square.

My moon reflects their sun,
but not enough to grow,
or harvest by the ton,
the seed I need to sow.

That shoots of love may start,
I seek the Greater Light,
and call upon my heart
to rise and glow sun bright.

O let my heart strive on
and gather in the ways,
to serve my crop of dawn,
with joy from Beauty's rays.

From broom to crown I sing
of those who strive to bear,
(in heart as well as ring),
the compass on the square.

If I should win the lottery,
(And that's the way it otta-be),
Then I'd give up my never-be
And set myself forever free.

If I should find rare coinery,
(And that's the way it otta-be),
Then I'd give up my couldn't-be,
And set myself forever free.

If I should gain fine jewelry,
(And that's the way it otta-be),
Then I'd give up my shouldn't-be
And set myself forever free.

Never-be, couldn't-be, shouldn't-be,
How did they gain their mastery
To cloud my self-discovery?
(Is that the way it otta-be?)

If I should win my liberty,
(And that's the way it otta-be),
Then I'd give up my slavery,
And set myself forever free.

But what if my 'IF' should never-be?
Some rather 'WHEN' than 'IF' you see,
For 'WHEN' is like a future tree,
And 'IF' is just a doubt-in-me.

A real good 'WHEN' is gold to me.
A bad 'WHEN' is a grave to-be.
Now good 'WHAT-IFS' can set me free,
But bad 'WHAT-IFS' can bury me.

So how then should it otta-be?
It seems God left it up to me
To search each possibility
Within my heart's own treasury.

(Now that's the way it otta-be.)

Speak, we listen.

Act, we observe.

Teach us again

how best to serve.

Man can forget

(as snows grow deep),

(Without a net)

the climb won't keep.

"Love is the seed

for your success.

Bring what you need.

Leave all excess.

Your sun will dawn,

strive on, strive on."

It brings us joy

from deep inside,

Like kite and boy

with wind applied.

It brings us fun.

Hearts feel so light

When inner sun

breaks through the night.

It brings us hope.

There is a cure,

Where all can cope

and love endure.

Beauty will start

the healing heart.

In the northeast corner of my heart,
I found a large, unfinished stone.
I thought it was a work of art
(A gift of the First Mason)
Something kept under lock and key
That glows with every good deed done,
And cheers all striving to be free.
But prayer and praise are not enough.
(Much work was left for me to do).
Up close it stands unsquare and rough,
While working tools remain like new.
There's no mistake. I clearly see.
It's wake up time, and up to me.

Let Wisdom search the hills

Where ancient winds have blown,

And find what most fulfills.

Quarrier, liberate your stone.

Quarry your experience,
Where cornerstones abound
(Which hold a subtle sense)
To build foundations sound.

Let Strength support each hand,

As joy, in every groan,

Plays midwife to the land.

Quarrier, liberate your stone.

Quarry your experience,
Where cornerstones abound
(Which hold a subtle sense)
To build foundations sound.

Let Beauty smooth and trim,

And bring into its own

The lovely from the grim.

Quarrier, liberate your stone.

Quarry your experience,
Where cornerstones abound
(Which hold a subtle sense)
To build foundations sound.

Another wonderful and inspiring piece from Brother Tom Lyle. What a gift Brother Tom has. Not only does he share his insight but also offers inspiration in the way of teaching by example.

Brother Lyle writes: "I am enjoying the poetry on the URL. It inspired me to attempt the one below. Don't know how much you like rhyme, but this one has internal rhyme in addition to end rhyme. It also has the Shakespaerian sonnet rhyme scheme running through it. So it is really a poem in triple rhyme. It is in iambic pentameter as well. If you think it is worthwhile, you might consider it for sharing with our fellow Masonic poets."

Worthwhile says he; well I hope to spit in your mitten it's worthwhile!
gsl.

A Brother In Freemasonry

A brother's Heart

beats warm with hope for all.

He does his part,

no matter large or small.

A brother's Mind

must serve his fellow man.

His thoughts are kind,

he helps all those he can.

A brother's Soul

is bright to those that see

His loving goal

is truth and charity.

Who dares to care

will find the time to share.

A couple of love poems now. Not included in the main index, so these non-Masonic items are a bonus.
okl.

From Me To You

I'm searching for a metaphor
To bring the beautiful to you --
An image never used before.
A swan that's made of gold would do,
If it could spread its wings and fly
Into an orbit of your heart.
(A sun to warm your inner sky).
One golden song and it would start
Its kind to wing from distant ponds
In flocks of golden wedge to bring
To nest the best in joyful bonds,
So you may turn each fall to spring.

Now share these golden thoughts with all,
And watch who migrates to your call.

This Is How I Really Feel

You are the green leaf.

You focus the sun

into the pink petals

of the morning rose.

You are the melody.

You create the softness

in the memory

of the ancient woodwind.

You are the incense.

You fill the universe

with the secret perfume

of undying hope.

You are the warm feeling.

You touch the timely moment

of our emptiness

with magnificent humility.

You are the nectar.

You wait in the human heart

for those who search

with infinite compassion.

You are the insight.

You cut the Gordian knot

of worldly confusion

with immaculate simplicity.

You are the door.

You open my inner room

onto the million sunrises

of your waking galaxies.

You are the conductor.

You guide me through

the starry vastness

of my being.

You are the Being of beings.

And in the in-between

of our forgetfulness,

You sing Your song --

of love.

Instead of the usual bio of the poet, we'll close this with Tom's piece on the Masonic Coach that he dedicated his earliest poems to.
okl.

I'll Never Forget You

His wife directed me to a wood working shop in his backyard. He was sitting on a tall stool, bent over his wood turning lathe, creating a master's gavel from a portion of an old plum tree stump which a neighbor had given to him. I would discover in the coming months that his work was as precise as his memory, and as beautiful as his heart.

He was to be my first friend in Masonry. He shared his knowledge with me. He knew what I had to do to strive for the higher degrees in Masonry. I called him "Coach", and that's the way he wanted it.

To him it was a warm and friendly nick name, but to me it was far more than that. I spoke it with a friendly, enthusiastic, and often times reverent tone of voice. Although he taught others, I still referred to him as "my coach". He was dedicated to Masonry. He was dedicated to his lodge. He was dedicated to coaching, and it was quite obvious to me that he was totally dedicated to getting me through my degree work in the most efficient yet friendly manner possible.

As you can "probably" tell, I was greatly impressed back then as an Entered Apprentice Mason, but this soon evolved into a very sincere gratitude when, after a word perfect proficiency, I was passed to the degree of Fellow Craft Mason. You see, I was never one to get involved in memory work. So I had to ask in prayer for help in memorizing my degree work. My prayers were answered through the friendly encouragement and hard work of my coach, for, I was raised a Master Mason on October 31 - yes, Halloween!

The Master of the lodge decided to raise me on Halloween because then I would never forget my Masonic anniversary. I felt then (and even more so now) that it was an honor and a privilege to be a Mason and sit in my lodge with my brothers in Masonry, especially when I sat next to my coach. It was one of the greatest moments of my life.

Yes, I worked hard for that day, but so did my coach. He was there for me. I will always remember using the old push broom to sweep aside the sawdust and plum wood chips on the floor so that we could set up our two wooden stools to sit on. When he asked me where I was first made a Mason, it gave me a very warm and comfortable feeling to be able to say, "in my heart." One session, after going through my questions and answers for him (yes, I learned the questions as well as the answers) coach surprised me to the point where my chin hung down to my chest. With the biggest grin I ever saw on him, he shared with me that, "Just yesterday the Grand Master sat on that very same stool that I was now sitting on". It turned out that coach and the Grand Master talked about Masonry for a long time.

It was then that I became aware that coach did work with the Grand Lodge as well as our lodge. I wondered where he found the time, then it dawned on me that he was using his working tools, especially the twenty four inch gage. He created eight hours for God and a distressed worthy brother in Masonry. (Personally, I figured he spent a lot more than eight hours per day.) I learned from experience that he didn't count the hours, he happily counted each moment with which he had the opportunity to turn an Entered Apprentice Mason into a Fellow Craft Mason, and he delighted in turning a Fellow Craft Mason into a Master Mason.

It was kind of like him pondering that old plum wood stump for the right combination of grain , texture and strength, then he turned it into a thing of beauty which could be ideally used with wisdom and strength. This is not just a tribute to my coach, it is a tribute to all coaches in Masonry. Your hard work and sacrifice is a shining example of the use of our working tools, for without their consistent use no Mason could be called coach in a friendly, enthusiastic and yes, reverent tone of voice.