Four Faces Carved in Stone

An acrostic...

Brought to life by artistry,
Living, breathing men.
Ancestors that shaped our country,
Changed what they began.
Kings whose nation once relied,
Heroes among their peers.
Icons of days gone by,
Legends through the years.
Lakota Sioux's six grandfathers,
South Dakotas sons.
Intrinsically famed forefathers,
Charles Rushmore's chosen ones.
Once four enigmatic figures.
Now faces carved in stone.



Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

021410

In Honor of Frost

In Honor of Robert Frost...

I, too, am a dedicated fan, of a man I know too well,

I often sway and turn his way, to ease a mental block,

He inspires me, quite subtly, to step outside my shell,

He reveals to me, the world I see, thoughts I poetically tell,

His mind you see, breeds sanity, to kindred-spirited stock.

Copyright © June 2009

Kevin Mooney

kmm0116

060109

Fallen Fathers, Forgotten Sons

As dawn breaks,
The heavens wake,
The earth's a new tapestry.

The seeds we've sewn,
The men we've known,
Lie still and prone reverently.

The spirits of those,
That history knows,
Lie in cemeteries nationwide.

Our forefather's ghosts,
Our heavenly hosts,
Line meadows and countrysides.

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten sons,
Fought for you and for me.
Those that died,
Gave their lives,
For honor and liberty.

Fields now lay,
In manicured decay,
Fertilized with sovereign dead.

Lined with stones,
Eternal homes,
Hallowed soil so bravely fed.

Their gravestones reveal,
What loved ones feel,
The sacrifices solemnly made,

Those won, those lost,
The heartfelt costs.
The ultimate prices paid,

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten sons,
Died with honor and dignity.
Their families cried,
For their unselfish pride,
Their heroic and stoic bravery.

For their family,
For their country,
For Generals, Gods and Kings.

Buried deep,
They quietly sleep,
As Angels silently sing.

Some remembered,
Some forgotten,
Some just ashes in the wind.

They fought for freedom,
They fought for justice,
Fought so we all could win.

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten daughters,
Live forever in our hearts and minds.
Our tranquility,
And prosperity,
Are their legacies left behind.

Let's honor those,
Fallen heroes,
Those before us that died.

Bow heads in prayer,
Then silently share,
Heartfelt blessings from deep inside.

The men and the women,
The sons and the daughters,
The husbands and the wives.

Those that suffered,
Sacrificed for others.
That so valiantly gave their lives.

Fallen Fathers,
Unforgotten ones,
You are our nation's pride.
Let children sing,
And church bells ring,
Let Good 'Ole Glory fly high.

So live on forever,
Know things are better,
That your souls have been sanctified.

Never fear,
We are always here,
To lay flowers by your side.

Your work is complete,
Now comfortably sleep,
You're remembered through tear stained eyes.

Let Father's who've fallen,
Never be forgotten.
Let their memories be memorialized.

Copyright © May 2010

Kevin Mooney

kmm001

053110

This Is What I Saw

I looked down and saw a man, looking up at me.
His eyes were fixed and dilated, his expression worry free.
Not an ounce of tension,
Existed on his face.
Lying there, unaware, in a better place.

I looked up a saw a man looking down at me.
He looked just like an Angel, with a message just for me.
His was an extension,
Of what I used to be.
Flying there, in the air, content and reverently.

I looked down and prayed to God, that he'd accept me.
My mind transfixed and highlighted, transgressions made toward me.
Not an ounce of reprehension,
Would I ever see.
Crying there, I learned to care, for those with less than me.

I looked up and gave to God, the love he gave to me.
He prescribed eternal life and prosperity.
In a premonition,
I saw myself debt free.
All my sins had been cashed in, I'd found true sanctity.

I've looked around and often found, things rarely what they seem.
When you die your measured by your love and loyalty.
Immoral retribution,
Governs one and all.
In God's eyes, man's judgement lies, this is what I saw.


Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm119

020510

The Gridiron Waltz

Knights in tight satin, a collection of men,
Shrouded by equipment, worn to protect them.
Their goal is quite clear, to control and outscore,
Continually beat those who dare come back for more.

They'll ambush you, punish you, crush you for fun.
Keep coming at you until they have won.

Incredibly strong people, large man to man,
Playing a game, with fans in the stands.
Battling weekly, testing body and mind,
Seeking a victory, eleven men at a time.

Their fans are loyal, though they don't always win.
They gather together again and again.
Tailgates and parties, or watching with friends,
Hailing past victories or those that might have been.

They'll meet you and greet you, do everything to beat you.
Their one and only goal, to some way defeat you.

Knights in tight satin, always fighting to live,
Looking for honors no mere man can give.
Striving for victories over those they can't stand.
Complete satisfaction is when victory's in hand.

Going the distance, avoiding a fall.
Wins only come if you answer the call.
Reaching for goals, stretching your limits.
Achieving it all, in a matter of minutes.

Never begrudge them or negatively judge them,
Proudly support and unconditionally love them.

Champions are raised and bred to believe,
Little else matters than the respect they receive.
No one can deny a man's hopes and his dreams.
With goals in both ends and 100 yards in between.

Stand tall.
Be Proud.
Go for it all,
Second place is not aloud.
Separate yourself
From the rest of the crowd.
To the victor, the plunder,
To the loser, dicontent.
Don't let yourself wonder,
What might have been.
Be better then the rest,
The center of talk.
The best of the best,
The cream of the crop.
And in the end,
Don't assign faults,
Just go out and win,
The Gridiron Waltz.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
120109

These Are The Things...

These are the things that make me sad:

The abuse of a child, it's innocence shorn,
A broken marriage irreconcilably torn.
Family dysfunction, a societal thorn,
A public malfunction, a break from the norm.
Hunger or starvation in any form,
The face of frustration, lost and forlorn.
Mass destruction from a devastating storm.
An animal's pain, so helplessly worn,
Man's disregard for land where he was born.
Wasteful consumption with no burden borne.
The fall and demise from social scorn,
The anguish of death we all learn to mourn.

These are the things that make me glad:

Beating the odds when the chips are down,
A miraculous win in a sports crazed town.
The beauty of nature, it's wonders abound,
Seeing the world, each experience profound.
A baby's smile and first steps around,
An animal's birth, no words can be found,
A cool summer rain; shaped cumulus clouds,
A fresh snowy day, earth's blanketed shroud.
Recognition of feats that make men proud,
Evil's defeat, dispensed without sound.
The preservation of hallowed ground,
The grace of God and his merciful crown.

These are the things that I find are bad:

Blatant cruelty, acts wantonly unfair,
Flagrant destruction that others don't dare.
Malicious hate, wars wrought with despair,
Selfish debates by those who won't share.
Arrogant leaders who act unaware,
Those that can't wait to get anywhere.
Outright disrespect for who got you there,
Cold hearted neglect for those with burdens to bear.
Those that cheat, lie and steal to get everywhere,
Who deny and conceal their criminal affairs.
The brandishing of guns with extreme lack of care,
The embellishment of funds for personal flair.

These are the things that I wish I had:

The ability to create total Peace on Earth,
Honor all good men and all that they're worth.
The moral conviction to prod the inert,
The pastoral connection for a spiritual rebirth.
A billion dollars to fight famine and thirst,
The power to heal, provide shoes, clothes and work.
Infinite wisdom with the power to avert,
Natural disasters that wreak havoc and hurt.
A way to comfort all those that feel cursed.
A place to rest when things seem their worst.
The means to prosper, entertain and traverse,
The power to conquer all that ails the universe.


Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090109

Self-Denied, Satisfied and Crucified

This is another work written to accompany art by Rougepriest of the OP site. He is a very talented artist and poet. Thank you, Dan, for the inspiration and use of your work.


Living lives of selfish pride,
Telling lies unjustified.
Tethered by lines that forever bind.
Severing ties that cloud one's mind.
Reaching for futures once left behind,
Searching for answers one hopes to find.

The worth of existence is characterized,
By a desire and persistence to capitalize.
One's power and resistance to sanctify,
The honor and sustenance they realize.
That forge a consistence emphasized,
By truth and conviction conceptualized.

Exertion of discipline, self-denied,
Personal resolve, determined pride.
Self-respect, a spiritual side,
Others detect and try to abide.
Tithes that connect and coincide,
Eyes that reflect what burns inside.

A fascination with the opposite sex,
A realization of what comes next.
Envisioning a gender's private parts,
Is where physical attraction usually starts.
A desire to touch a forbidden fruit,
Could cause the other to follow suit.

A climax worth effort, is a goal satisfied,
It may last forever, or never be tried.
Knowing one's limits is knowing one's mind,
Self-discipline exhibits control hard to find.
Satisfaction sustained does damage in time,
Self-gratification remains the simplest kind.

God gave mankind the ability to enjoy,
The pleasures one's body readily employs.
It's the gift of Mother Nature's romantic joy,
The rift that Lucifer so blatantly deploys.
It's the power of temptation that lured even Christ.
Eternal damnation, the Devil's devise.

If Angels and Aliens were left to decide,
Would Jesus have suffered, been crucified?
Only God knows the true worth of men,
The power of conviction and sentence for sin.
The lure of lust and the penchant to win,
Righteousness begins where immorality ends.





Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
110909

Innocent Eyes

Eyes so brilliant,

Eyes refined,

Eyes resilient,

Eyes so kind.



Have you ever looked into an animal's eyes?

Wondered what's on their mind?

Do they think like you and I?

Are their thoughts like yours and mine?

What goes on inside their head?

Do they stare right back at you?

Or do they look away instead?

I wonder what they're thinking too.

Do they dream about what they see?

Ever imagine they're you or me?



Eyes romantic,

Eyes disguised,

Eyes gigantic,

Eyes so wise.



I once looked a gorilla straight in the eyes.

Through a pane of glass only inches wide.

He stared back at me, he was twice my size,

We were literally sitting side by side.

We gazed at each another as if no one was there,

I saw my reflection in his deep dark eyes.

Our minds were locked in a hypnotic stare.

I blinked first, then to my surprise,

He raised his chin, as if to say,

I may not be free, but I won today.



As I stood to leave the room,

I braced my self against the glass,

Suddenly I heard a sonic boom,

As he hit the window with all his mass.

The whole pane shook against the strain,

It wobbled as spectators began to run.

I felt horrified, then a little ashamed,

This proud fellow had had his fun.

We'd all been pawns in his whimsical fling.

Though he was captive, he was still the King.



Eyes familiar,

Eyes of time,

Eyes so similar,

Eyes that remind.



I often stare into my dog's eyes,

They're black as coal, dark and dense.

She'll look at me, then realize,

Then look away in self defense.

Some say dogs see the world,

In only black and white.

Not in color, it sounds absurd,

I'm not really sure they're right.

But if they never see color schemes,

I wonder about their thoughts and dreams?



Eyes of virtue,

Eyes so fine,

Eyes brand new,

Eyes so blind.



When puppies are born, they can't see,

The world's a dark and scary place.

Their tiny lives preposterously,

Exist within their mother's space.

They root around for her milk, trying to stay alive.

I'm sure to most their worlds seem bleak,

How long can blind dogs survive?

Could they live on their own a week?

It's difficult to tell.

Are blind dog's eyes replaced by their sense of smell?



Eyes remind,

Eyes reveal,

Eyes confide,

Eyes conceal.



Have you ever looked into a child's eyes,

They're reflectively serene,

They twinkle like stars in midnight skies,

They're as pure as a blank movie screen.

They're innocently delightful,

Pools of blue and aqua green.

Their view of life's insightful,

They soak up all they see.

The eyes of a child are quite possibly,

Crystal balls of what might be.



Eyes sublime,

Eyes surreal,

Eyes in time,

Eyes that feel.



Most of God's creatures possess,

A sense of what they see.

Eye's are amazing engineering conquests,

In animals, birds and bees.

Some say they're windows to the soul,

Portholes of what's been seen.

Small cameras recording life's events,

Vessels of hopes and dreams.



Eyes of confidence,

Eyes so blue,

Eyes suggestive,

Eyes for you.



Of all the eyes the world can boast,

It's Innocent Eyes that see the most.





Copyright © December 2009

Kevin Mooney



kmm001

082409

The Road To Calvary

This is an inspirational song to be sung the tune Cimmaron by Poco...

Lord, you have saved me,

You are the blessed one.

I'm thankful you forgave me,

You're God's one true son.



I'll follow the plan you gave me,

For now I know I've won.

Walk the path you've made me,

My new life's just begun.



Down that lonesome highway,

Far from Galilee,

There's a northern by way,

Made for you and me.



He paid the ultimate price,

So we can live eternally,

It's paved with sacrifice.

The Road to Calvary.



Lord you've revived me,

Your word is all I need,

It's truth will provide me,

The courage to succeed.



I stand right beside thee,

We'll walk hand in hand,

Your spirit will surely guide me,

Like footprints in the sand.



Steer me from loathsome side ways,

My sins you bore for me,

On You, let holy eyes gaze,

Through you, my soul is free.



Many have tried to find ways,

To reach tranquility,

The only true and tried ways,

Are The Roads to Calvary.



You are my sole deliverer,

God's forsaken son,

The sins of man's discretions,

You've taken from everyone.



So Lord, please take me,

Without You, my life's a mess,

My heart's forever bleeding,

My sins to You I confess.



I believe in thy way,

Man from Galilee,

I promise to obey always,

The Word you've given me.



You paid for my deliverance,

Took on sins selflessly,

You gave my soul forgiveness.

You set my spirit free.



How can I ever repay you?

For the debt you paid for me?

I promise to stay beside you,

Down the Road to Calvary.



You carry a heavy burden,

Man's cross you chose to bear,

Our future is heavenly certain,

A thorned crown you were forced to wear.



As more days move behind me,

And life's journey nears it's end,

Next to you, Lord, you will find me,

Your kindred spirited friend.



For I know Lord you've changed me,

It's become so plain to see.

That this life is just the beginning,

For those who choose to believe.



So heed and trust in Thy Word,

Through it the blind will see,

Follow Lord Jesus skyward,

Along the Road to Calvary.







Copyright © August 2009

Kevin Mooney



kmm001

082409

It's A Wonderful Place

This piece was written to describe another painting by a favorite local artist of mine. His name is Paul McGehee. Google his work. The detail is amazing. Note the ship in the Potomac at the end of the street. If you look real close, to the left hand side there is a red brick shop that it lit up. That is Paul's Old Town Gallery. This is an acrostic...





On a river wide and deep,

Lined with galleries and specialty shops,

Donned with rich, nautical history,

Tobacco once it's dominant crop.

Originally part of Columbia,

Washington often spoke it's praise,

Northern port of Virginia,

Often guarded in volatile days.

Founded in colonial times,

Today a tourist's delight,

History shines in it's bustled daytime,

Elegance lines it's streets at night.

Potomac's imperial majesty,

Occupant of weathered shores,

Torpedo art and pageantry,

Ordained with restaurants and stores.

Mystically and hauntingly enchanted,

Alexandrian at it's core.

City admired for it's seafaring lore.





Copyright © May 2009

Kevin Mooney



kmm001

050109

Little White Tiger Cub

Welcome little white tiger cub,
To this world you've never seen.
The fearlessly, bold embodiment of,
A precious newborn King.

Like you, there are not that many,
My black striped noble friend.
Millions will watch over you,
As your life begins.

Take a moment, quietly pause,
Consider the world and all it's flaws.
Defend your self with tooth and claws,
Protect your ground with giant paws.

You're a welcome sight white tiger cub,
Sitting up and looking 'round.
Perched upon your solid rock,
Taking in your kingdom proud.

Roll around, learn to play,
Your role may suddenly change someday,
A species owes its future to you,
Grow strong, my friend and see things through.

One day you'll be big and strong,
Able to right what man's done wrong.
God willing, my friend, you will survive,
Defy all odds and multiply...



Copyright © January 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
011610

Sail (Pink Floyd Tribute VI)

This is part 6 in the Dark Side of the Moon series. This is a rewrite of Breathe...


Sail, sail alone,
In search of a new Island home.
Cross the sea of tranquility,
Make the world your throne.

Reach for the stars and you will find.
Many before you left behind.
Know your limits, know your mind,
Year's are minutes beyond the sky.

Fly, Eagle fly,
Soar to heights no others try.
Build your nest among the stars,
Do your best where ever you are.

Then one day the world will see,
There's no difference in you and me.
Friends may try to set your free,
We're born to die, its God's decree...

All thoughts fade to black and white,
Day is day and night is night.
Some give in and other's fight,
Never win though always right.

And in the end the verdict's just,
Men will die to earn God's trust.
We all must sacrifice to adjust.
In dirt we blend then turn to dust....



Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
110109

Heros, Kings and Ghosts

Historically, reverently,
Men of days gone by.
Those with names etched in stone,
For deeds that changed their times.

Men whose nations they preserved,
Who willingly gave their lives.
Fearless men who passionately served,
Whose bravery exemplified.

Men of courage, men of zeal,
On whom their brethren relied.
Men that fought with nerves of steel,
Who led their battle cries.

Sovereignty, dignity,
Casts of immortal men.
Born with innate abilities,
To forge a conceived plan.

Missionaries, visionaries,
Prophets, bards and seers,
Dignitaries, literarys,
Poets and future seekers.

Men with talent, men with skill,
Men with brilliant minds.
With the desire and the will,
To effectively change mankind.

Men preserved in bronze and stone,
Statues and painted hosts.
The solitude of souls atoned,
Heros, Kings and Ghosts.


Copyright © January 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
010510

Snow (A Haiku)

Cold cascade of white.
Frozen blanket, child's delight.
God's breathtaking sight.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
121809

Snow (A Haiku)

Cold cascade of white.
Frozen blanket, child's delight.
God's breathtaking sight.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
121809

From Manger To Cross

Once upon a time, many years ago,
A very special child was received.
He was born in a manger with no place to go,
His future and purpose preconceived.

The birth was foretold, by generations old,
In books and psalms from afar.
Those that bore witness had come to behold,
A miracle proclaimed by a star.

Man's future lay, swaddled in hay,
His mission, transgressions to bear.
Surrounded by animals, shepherds and Kings,
With good tidings and gifts brought to share.

Do you suppose that there were those,
That knew who this child would soon be?
The living word, the one that arose,
Sent here to save you and me.

That night in a stable, a child proved able,
To inspire all nations to pray.
A story was cast, one sure to last,
It was proclaimed a glorious day.

Years went past but few people asked,
What became of that fortunate Son?
A man came forth and performed great tasks,
That inspired and astounded everyone.

As it turned out, many learned about,
His ability to heal and foresee.
His fan base grew and many soon knew,
That this was the child of prophecies.

He taught how to give, to love and forgive,
Performed a miracle or two.
He set an example for people to live,
Through suffrage, abuse and solitude.

One day a friend, one loyal to the end,
Pointed him out in a crowd.
Those that he served had forsaken him,
Admonished and cursed him out loud.

He was sentenced die, for no reason why,
He carried his burden upon his back.
His head was adorned with a crown of thorns,
He never complained of what he lacked.

He struggled at times, but managed to climb,
The hill where his cruel fate had led.
He was nailed and tied for committing no crime,
People watched as his hands and feet bled.

They lifted him there, up into the air,
On a cross firmly fixed in the ground.
All he could bear was to suffer and stare,
As onlookers gathered all around.

Many souls left, bereaved and bereft,
Unable to watch or comprehend,
Those that stayed, silently prayed,
That his suffering would eventually end.

When his time came, he offered no blame,
He asked only his Father forgive.
"They knew not their sins or where to begin,
To atone for the lives that they live".

As he died, all mankind cried,
At that moment it began to sink in.
This was that child that years ago lie,
Swaddled with the burden of sin.

That hallowed day, far, far, away,
On the eve of man's eternal cost.
Was when it began, the first Christmas day,
Jesus journey from manger to cross.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

Childlike Daydreams

Distant clouds across the horizon,
Subtle hints of approaching storms,
Silhouettes of snow-capped mountains,
Protect the edge of Evermore.

Clear blue skies are soon disrupted,
By cumulus clouds in shapes and forms,
Ice cream cones and foam filled fountains,
Collect and hedge rough ocean shores.

Marshmallow pillows, cottony white,
Soft armadillos and polar bear kites,
Unicorns, dragons and Medieval knights.
A kaleidoscope of hypnotic delights.

A soft gentle breeze escorts stronger winds,
Fluxing rough seas and shuffling shark fins.
Grey tinged clusters of powder puffs begin,
To gather and usher the darkness in.

The rumble of thunder can faintly be heard,
As elephants and stallions assemble their herds.
Flashes of lightening are distantly seen,
Slashing and brightening what once was serene.

In front of the mountains sheer curtains fall,
Slanting brushstrokes in a midsummer's squall.
As the Gods bowl strikes down heavenly lanes,
The sky soon erupts in showers of rain.

I sit and I ponder God's beautiful scene,
Its elegant wonder, its passionate scheme,
Suddenly I'm consciously sober it seems,
No longer lost in my childlike daydreams.



Copyright © January 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
011610

What Christmas Is All About

Anticipation begins and gradually kicks in,
While shopping days wane and disappear.
Excitement blends in and slowly transcends,
As tradition and good tidings reappear.

Children grow restless, as school days dwindle,
Their lists continue to grow.
Moms and Dads spend and find ways to rekindle,
The holiday spirit they know.

Houses are decorated inside and out,
Trees find new ways to glisten.
Mistletoe hangs and stories come out,
As eager ears strain to listen.

December days mount, while parents recount,
Past memories of gifts and toys.
Yuletide ghosts greet the heavenly host,
Through time spent together, love and joy.

These days it seems, not everyones' dreams,
Are packaged and adorned with bows.
Those bereft means go to extremes,
Just to have food, shelter and warm clothes.

This winter's eve, try to conceive,
Of those with no gifts to give out.
Help children believe, to give is to receive,
It's what Christmas is all about.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

As We Gather...

Friends, lets toast another year,
Make the most of what brought us here.
As we gather, united as one,
Spread love and joy to everyone.

Lord give us this day the right to receive,
All the blessings to those that believe.
Should we stray, stumble or fall,
Show us the way to conquer it all.

Your Word is a blessing, a comfort to share,
With those who are lost, spiritually unaware.
A rock to cling to when storms will not cease,
A cornucopia of hope, a formidable feast.

Savor the moment, be vigilant, sincere,
Think of the less fortunate this time of year.
Reach out and touch those that you love,
Honor friends, family and God up above.

Lord give us this day the power to see,
How truly wonderful life can be.
As we gather, bow heads and pray.
Humble ourselves this Glorious Day.




Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
112209

The Broken Violin

In the rear of an old antique shop.
Hidden on a dusty wooden shelf,
Was a box old and worn.
Ragged, tattered and torn.
Alone and all by itself.

The shop was full of interesting things,
Some rare and some just debris.
It's hard to stand out,
When your left without,
A self-image and degree of dignity.

People walked by but never really tried
To see what may lie within.
They'd pick and they'd choose,
Through discarded refuse.
Didn't care or know where to begin.

One day an old man in search of new treasure,
Spied the box and decided to peek in.
Once he eyed,
What laid inside,
It produced a most heart warming grin.

For there in a bed of faded old paper,
Laying prouder than it'd ever been,
Was a worn instrument,
The forlorn embellishment,
Of an old bow and broken violin.

It was fairly well kept, despite where it slept,
It had obviously once been well used.
Among other things,
It was missing some strings.
Some TLC could make it like new.

God's gifts are funny, they don't need much money,
Just attention and sincere tender care.
Given a chance,
A life is enhanced,
Redemption takes concern, love and prayer.

The man took it home and tended to its tone,
He had a delicate, light, soothing touch.
It didn't take long,
To produce a sweet song,
From this fellow who had suffered so much.

Some folks live their lives and never realize,
Their potential and God-given worth.
They sit on dark shelves,
The victims themselves,
Of futures predetermined by birth.

In some old dark shop one might pause and stop,
Take time to help out a fellow man.
It doesn't take much,
To reach out and touch,
Those in need of an extended hand.

The man learned to play, and brighten each day,
With his new social partner and friend.
Most people say,
He relishes the day,
He found his treasure in an old broken violin.


Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney