Tuesday, April 25, 2017

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 



for Ervin Laszlo

                    I am assured, by those who’ve grown wise,
                    That all that is will never cease to be
                     (Despite what custom leads us to surmise)
                     But in a Field resides eternally.
                     What now seems disparate and out of touch
                     Remains always in this Akashic realm,
                     And such awareness rescues us from much
                     Torment that otherwise would overwhelm
                      Our equanimity and cause despair,
                      Since now we know what is will ever stay
                      Available for humankind’s welfare,
                      And Heaven’s where our souls forever play.
                           Akashic consciousness reveals how we
                           Can live with God in blissful ecstasy.


Saturday, April 15, 2017


                    The birds of morning greet the glints of dawn
                     By piping orisons into the skies,
                     As squirrels begin to scamper on the lawn,
                    And soon the frolicking of butterflies
                    Will signal that the blooms of early spring
                    Are blossoming, exultant, bright and gay,
                    Up-lifted by the orisons they sing,
                    A balm to winter’s torpor and dismay—
                    Likewise, my heart is light and I must sing
                    A sonnet that shall celebrate all this
                    Uplifting of our spirits to new heights,
                    Even to the pinnacle of bliss,
                        Exultant in this grand, ecstatic trance
                        That blithely stirs my rising soul to dance.


Tuesday, April 11, 2017


                    My highest calling now is to create,
                   To exercise my art in poetry,  

                   By sitting as I do to contemplate
                   How meter, matter, sound and sense agree
                   While I depict the subjects on my mind
                   Discovering, as way leads on to way,
                   How novel artifacts may be designed
                   That sense and sensibility display.
                   Without the challenge of this daunting form,
                   I’d not be prompted to discoveries;
                   Such provocations set ideas a-swarm,
                   Which is one of life’s happy mysteries.
                        A couplet here will make this poem complete,
                        This tumbling gymnast landing on his feet.


Wednesday, April 5, 2017


                               With little insight or capacity
                               For thought, much less sagacity,
                               He stumbled on in his audacity,
                                Clueless still of his opacity,


Tuesday, April 4, 2017



Monday, April 3, 2017


3 APRIL 2017

                    This day, each year, recalls the happiest time
                    That ever I have known in all my life,
                    A day when chapel bells began to chime
                    Proclaiming we were joined as man and wife—
                    Now thirty-five years since, and we’ve come far
                    And traveled happily along our course,
                    While led always by heaven’s brightest star.
                     The Love we learned from our immortal Source,
                     And even though my health is not the best,
                     My hopes are high we’ll be together long
                     And always celebrate how we’ve been blessed,
                     Which is the purpose of this annual song:
                         You are my dearest Dear, and may I be

                         The same to you throughout eternity.


Saturday, April 1, 2017


                 What will we in a hundred years have done
                 Advancing still our human enterprise
                 As, spider-like, from sapience we’ve spun
                 A web that proves we have at last grown wise,
                 Transcending those inanities that now
                 Portend our imminent catastrophe
                 But then a better prospect shall allow,
                 Fulfilling our potentiality?
                 Contention then shall yield to compromise,
                 All parties striving for each other’s good
                 For only then may our race realize
                 The transcendental benefits it should
                      When humankind is properly aligned
                      With that intent for which we’ve been designed.