Wednesday, November 28, 2012


Once again it's Wednesday morn and time for a NWCU wake up call

Tis morning, and the moon still rides blue sky;
There’s magic in that white, nocturnal moon,
Ye, moon, refuse to fade, refuse to die!

If myth and mystic tell no lie, I’ll soon
Go moonstruck. . .stark insanity; I’ll hear
The breath of angels and the earth’s soft tune.

And if the slightly twisted eye I bear
Disturbs you in some awkward way, it should;
For Daytime Moon has cast its spell.  Beware. . .

The crazed romantic in my soul I would
Forever hide, the moon has understood

                                    --Monty Wheeler


I know I’ll never be a “dad”
But to the three who never asked to be
A part of this strange world of ours,
Their “natural father” I am, you see.

Long ago, I tossed the chance
To be their “dad” through life’s tough dance,
And yet. . .perchance, I still can be
Something in the lives of three
Offspring whom I find I need
More than likely they need me.

Tis not to ponder some dark past;
Try not to wonder why at last;
I only know in lives of three
They hold the door, as well, the key.

I know I’ll never be their “dad;”
They’ve got that one and long they’ve had.
But I can follow God’s intent
That I believe He shows me now;
And proud I stand to call them mine
And know with them I share bloodline.
And with their forgiveness and consent,
Our futures hold long years well spent.

Perhaps it is “too little too late”
But if reaching out will open some gate. . .
I’ll not hesitate.

                                    --Monty Wheeler

Monday, November 26, 2012


The gull takes flight and yet the ground
Sure holds his shadow’s black.
I live to think that when we’re gone
Our shadows will come back.

I love to think our shadows mirror
Our souls forever tied
Slow walk with me and hold my hand;
Our shadows must abide.

Comes nigh the day for some short while
One will walk alone;
Yet I’d believe our shadows will
Forever walk as one.

For shadows feel no pain or death,
And shadows know no fear.
As long as sun will warm the earth
Our shadows will be here.

I’d ask but one, a single vow;
When I’m laid to rest,
Hold out your hand to find my shadow
Next to you is cast.

                                 --Monty Wheeler

Thursday, November 22, 2012


 My net’s the pen; it’s always been.
There’s childlike glee when I try
And finally catch the perfect word,
Like once I caught a butterfly.

A pretty sight or lyrical sound—
Give chase to that elusive prize!
Such is my goal when I write verse;
The right words dance before my eyes.

And still it is as always was;
That butterfly in my mind’s eye,
That perfect sound that wants to sing,
Some times will fade in distant sky.

And tell me, Mother, like you did
That gentle is as always was—
Catch, admire, and set it free;
Keep nothing for a selfish cause.

                                    --Monty Wheeler