Thursday, December 18, 2014


Gentle Reader,

What you’ll find below is an upside-down anthology of sorts: a journal of my frequent morning musings from January 2008 till now, in reverse order.

Much of what I write here is verse in traditional rhymed iambic pentameters, old fashioned in form but contemporary in topics and idiom. It asks to be read aloud so that the effects of rhyme and meter may be felt.

Sometimes I write brief prose essays, but even my verses are essays, or attempts, pursuing a line of thought to some conclusion, though more sonorously than those in prose: discursive verses, I call them.

In either case, you’re the reader over my shoulder as I write, which makes my writing different than when I have no audience in mind but only a vague urge to express. So I thank you for whatever attention you give my words and thoughts and feelings because you might so easily attend to something else, and you soon will.

To beguile you to linger longer, though, I’ve coupled most of my compositions with a photo or image I’ve taken or borrowed, which often corresponds with my words of that day.

Thank you for visiting here.  I hope you enjoy your stay and are moved to come back soon.

—Alan Nordstrom

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  Is there life elsewhere in the universe?
  Of course there is.  The same mind that’s designed
  Life here has every reason to disburse
  Life elsewhere, although perhaps another kind.

  It’s simple inference from our being here,
  Possessed with our astute intelligence,
  That something of our kind made us appear,
  A power deserving of our reverence.

  Since we have mind, it’s mind that’s made us be,
  So, clearly, then, from this we should infer
  That how we exercise mentality
  Will dictate what sure outcomes we’ll incur.

       The onus and initiative are ours
       To guarantee our full potential flowers.


Wednesday, December 17, 2014


        I rise from bed before dawn’s early light
        With vestiges of dreams still in my sight,
        And soon I’m downstairs sitting, set to write
        Before my night’s imaginings take flight.


Tuesday, December 16, 2014


Just as to make this poem it takes a mind,
   So everything called Being is designed
   By some intelligence that lies behind
   All entities the cosmos has defined,
   More than stochastic chance could have divined:
   But randomness with purpose well aligned.


Monday, December 15, 2014


    The Mystery, of course, is how all this,
    The Universe of which we’re cognizant,
    Has come to be, if it’s a blind abyss
    Of randomness or something elegant:

    An artifact exhibiting intent,
    The function of a universal mind
    Unknowable, perhaps, yet evident,
    By which the whole shebang has been designed.

    Though I can’t solve this ancient mystery,
    I’m still unwilling simply to concede
    To declarations of Authority
    And blandly iterate some ancient creed.

         Yet that I have a mind and clearly know it
         Must be the way the Cosmos has to show it.


Sunday, December 14, 2014


      The Holy Spirit makes and keeps us whole,
      A cosmic force of order and control,
      The Source from which the Universe arose,
      Directing how our Earthly garden grows.

      We readily personify this force
      That providentially aligns our course:
      Good Orderly Direction becomes GOD,
      Who first created Adam from the sod

      And ever after hearkens to our pleas
      To spare us from disaster and disease
      And yet remains mysterious in His ways
      And may sometimes appall, sometimes amaze.

           Denying this would be a fateful blunder,
           Since what we see inspires sacred wonder.


Saturday, December 13, 2014


for Edmund J. Bourne

   Some say we humans are too far adrift
   And wayward in the setting of our course;
   They say it’s time now for a global shift
   That reconnects us to our cosmic Source.

   The Global Mind must now be realigned
   To sow a viable ecology
   And human sensibilities refined
   To reap a crop without apology.

   No longer heedless of the needs of life,
   As if enamored with the deeds of death,
   We’ll mend contention and we’ll settle strife,
   Insanity no more our shibboleth.

        The global mind change that’s long overdue
        Will come once we’ve attained the cosmic view.