Rainbow’s chorus

 ‘Rainbow’s chorus’ Trgates,7/17/2026

Blue Jays may demand attention,

loud and territorial,

yet their beauty may be arresting,

over the rainbow

they’ll not call for us to join their melody.

Bluebirds steal nothing

only to find a nestling home,

quiet in their beauty

if we listen closely

we’ll find ourselves humming with them,

only to find ourselves

over the rainbow

singing too.

Cardinals bouncing from

branch to branch,

Redbirds they welcome our gaze,

saying hello from a beloved,

their moment’s greeting

gone as quick as it came.

nodding off

after reflection

our family of feathered souls gather

in our midnight sleep

the Sun, the Moon, and Stars

the Blue Jay, Cardinal and Bluebirds

welcome our rainbow’s visiting chorus.

‘some days, every scar’Trgates,5/20-22/2023(9 years)

some days

clouds paint too many scenes,

then it rains

while the sun is trying to peek in.

it’s difficult to see

through these drops,

you’d think your eyes would dry up.

wee ones screech between giggles,

in video memory recall,

skipping decades reinterpreting,

Mother laughed out loud,

proud of every moment,

that delight only knows a Blessed Repose.

happy sadness,

dry sockets find another tear -

some days,

every scar, every grey hair

replacing brown, auburn speckles,

balanced by stealth limps,

hearing those last days here within,

my turn no longer surprises.

some days

theirs and ours,

suns and moons,

dance together.

funny, once they said

Grandpa needed to stop driving at night

(was another twenty years before

he’d said goodbye to Grandma,

“Jesus, I’ll be right there. It’s time to say goodbye. I love you.”).

some days,

that’s what they are,

a broken strand of hair

found between the pages

of a beloved text.

today.

Their eyes

 ‘their eyes’ Trgates,7/23/2026 ‘wee eyes’

yes, “we have no continuing city here,

looking for a new heaven and earth.”

yet every time 

I gaze into the eyes of a new Grandchild,

each one’s brilliantly unique 

I catch a look from my Children’s,

older yet the same eyes 

I pause and hear their heartbeat,

my face is baptized anew —

even this day I have a 

glimpse into eternity’s wink,

and in the moment I smile. 

in other moments by myself,

as such,

I chuckle, weep, laugh,

then listen. 

each day’s indeed this one.

Ha, chuckling

 ‘Ha, chuckling’ Trgates,7/25/2026

Suns rise

even as Moons appear to too. 

Ha, there’s the operative. 

Star gazing

even as Black Holes once did too. 

Funny, wishing upon either’s the same. 

Metaphors laugh

even as Aphorisms prefer euphemisms. 

Chuckle, better that Suns and Moons rise.

Grief

 ’Grief?’ Trgates,7/30/2026

Grief? some’ll tell you to get over it.

sorry you don’t get over such love,

it’s like your whole body’s inflamed

finding a bier in your heart.

it’s not breaking,

yet it feels like it because you’re a whole person.

Love? you first know in your Mother’s womb,

your first laughter, tears of joy and sadness

come from the safety of herself,

perhaps why when you finally say goodbye

it seems like you feel her

laughter and tears again,

now passed on into your arms to hold others.

Irony? a musician, artist, poet, often not known personally, dies, and we weep.

why? their extended empathy

found in ours living each day

is given a moment’s opportunity to

feel again what’s not ever actually gone.

why? because love lived before,

as love lived today isn’t dead,

it’s singing the psalms of eternity

with those here, there, where

grief is an ethereal and temporal hug.

a Mother’s first humming of nursery rhymes

from her womb to her arms

until we might in time return ours for her,

yes why Fathers marvel

and join the vigil we know as life.

Love? Yes.

Pass the bread and wine

 ‘pass the bread and wine’ Trgates,8/3/2026

talking with the dead

no big deal,

every day the living say hello,

not upset by those too good for a visit,

he’d say “let the dead bury the dead.”

those marginalizing

folks not considered worth their time

have plenty of it,

the dead are ahead of their headstones.

talking with the living

that’s another story,

like leprosy “unclean!” souls

if dared to walk in their Golgothas

Emmaus will see their faces,

beholding what was never hidden to one.

Anesti, Axios!

heard and seen

by those with

“eyes and ears,”

Plato’s Logos has no need of

equivocation or a back patting,

or an interpreter.

sitting at each other’s table

we pass the bread and wine,

having no need to be hurried.

Hope’s insight

 ‘Hope’s insight’ Trgates,8/20/2026

wee ones see clearly,
slowly fed pabulum 
making sure they know what’s true, 
they’re taught lockstep thinking
layered visions through cataracts,
slowly like the Blind Man
after healed
without prescience he first thinks 
“I see people like trees walking,”
children given blinders
their adolescent lenses tossed aside. 
wee ones grown
having gone to the pool
to wash away layered encrustations
no longer innocent
yet walking with their ancients,
at least that’s how they’re seen for a day,
“testing everything holding fast to the truth.”
looking into the eyes of little ones,
and ones well aged 
we behold beauty again, seeing.

Grace’s whisper

 grace’s whisper’ Trgates,8/29/2024

a wee one asks Jesus 
for forgiveness,
for what don’t have any idea,
decades later pride sums it up,

virtue it seems

has more to do

with used up vice. 

comparison to another is futile,

to oneself it’s redundant,

to the grace of today 

a wee one baptized 

knows a hoary headed whisper.

A Baby’s gift in a coo

 ‘a Baby’s gift in a coo’ Trgates,8/12/2026

from Arctic glaciers
leaving mountain ranges
and desert sands alongside,
I recall in my youth
the mass of reported hatred,
people with the same heritage —
we do share our genesis
no matter explained by
science formulating or theological pauses —
yet I saw many not succumbed to it,
their children playing side by side,
perhaps true science and faith
wee ones lead our ways
where “red and yellow, black and white”
love like the children’s tune,
a need to be right
never crossing their minds,
yet doing right
having its own humility.
Nature’s story is both
traumatizing and healing,
seeming to leave death in its path
yet revealing ongoing resurrections —
have seen those taught to hate
stand side by side
sharing their questions and joy
at reading an author
who’s rejected by both of their circles,
like tumultuous oceans
also giving us roadways in their waves.
for myself I have come to smile,
and still with tears at times,
yes a deluge too on rarer days,
at what various spheres explain,
perhaps St. Augustine’s
“God is found in humility”
ours following the Divine’s
revealing in what little we know
and our confessions of what we don’t.
from hoary headed returning
to our little ones awe
we behold the beauty of
of a sunset and sunrise
over a Grand Canyon
and in the Northwest
sometimes Northern Lights,
to the heart baptizing
from a baby’s coo.

Teaching my harmonies

 ‘teaching my harmonies’ Trgates,5/22/2026

every note, every chord
I play, yet my picking
has come by way of others
sharing, breathing
some here, some there
teaching harmony,
learning the value of
sequences, progressions,
learning dissonance
swinging doors for
open tunings,
fifths, augmented sevenths.
listening closely
there’s the voices not near,
yet never gone,
somehow blend with those here,
polyphony, homophonic, monophonic
choices sung from compositions
through precise music theory,
and choices of improvisation.
pause, sometimes I hear
in this silence
otherwise unread, unheard,
my presumed interpretation in the way,
then a gifted overtone
opens a beginning psalmodic chant.
those there, those here
join the choral symphony
variations with backdrops of
open tunings, fifths, augmented sevenths.
in the pause’s silence
I hear earth’s heaven.
sometimes.

Mirrors

 ‘mirrors’ Trgates,5/30/2026

warnings against devils,
prophets and politicians join hands 
with apocalyptic end of the world 
clarion calls,
like profiteers in hypocrisy,
now these He did warn. 
Fairies with Gnomes chuckle,
they’ve noticed folks not looking 
in their own mirrors.

Leaves

 ‘Leaves’ Trgates,6/7/2026

summer and fall leaves,
in a kaleidoscope vision’s hues 
resting upon ruddy dust
cries not for another day,
their day has come
giving a blanket to this bier 
until they’re reclining together,
heaven’s glad for their repose 
physics giving into metaphysics,
pushing up through 
where we too awoke 
a sprout peeks out
rising from sleep, 
“Hello,” first words bring a smile.

Awakened by grace

 ‘awakened by grace’ Trgates,5/22,6/21/2026

awakened by grace,
first cries, first tantrums, first scraped knees
“Daddy when do I get to date?”
(some culminate in due course with a ring)
not always easy on a heart
in due time would have a pacemaker assist.
another grace,
“grandpa I don’t think it’s fair, grandma died.”
Amen, I agree.
soccer, baseball, softball, basketball, dance,
24/7 gifts with smiles, tears, loud laughter,
birthday shopping, of course
some moments of chosen silence.
again awakened by grace,
(miss those before adoring these lights)
I remember the firsts,
todays transcend those in shadows,
and we are given another grace
with each next, and.
on another day’s setting a whisper’s heard,
as I’m walking out of the room,
just had our hugs and kisses goodnight,
“Papa I don’t want you to let go of the grass.”
awakened by grace,
I see all those before me,
more coming too,
and I stop.
in this breath shared,
if given another
are our nexts, ands, and firsts.

What matters

 ‘what matters’ Trgates,6/22/2026

Commiserating 
may fluff one’s ego dance card,
one and two sidestep.

Child discipline

 ‘child discipline’ Trgates,6/24/2026

one last time,
leather belt swung
the metal buckle connecting,
yet not one neighbor raising their voice,
“none of our business”
bs indifference.
how could someone who loved deeply
think a beating fixes a child’s less than?
no doubt they were fixed the same way,
obviously no one begged theirs to stop
either.
worse, the Proverb’s quote
“if thou beatest him with a rod
he shall not die,”
only bettered by twenty-first century 
desire to instruct children,
this laziness of an adult’s memory.
sorry, the sloppy excuse of
“well you do have free will,”
a young one at the receiving end
is never informed of this,
only “this will hurt me more than you,”
another bs aphorism.
nursing bruises, alone,
an unintended innocuous
“I’ll never do this to anyone!”
yet it’s all you know
until you know something else.
people doing the best they can,
pray they learn not to prey,
maybe learn like those Blessed Children
“Love covers a multitude of ills.”
looking into yesterday’s mirror
you’re glad for the grace of today.

Quiet still hears

 ‘quiet still hears’ Trgates,6/30/2026

sometimes I ramble
from years of speech therapy 
hearing’s gift came first. 

‘Willow branches‘ Trgates,7/14/2022;9/6/23
Willow branches lean down,
their leaves covering our friends,
some who barely breathed,
others whose breath stopped.

Jesus wrote in the sand,
preferring to not throw rocks,
like Daniel’s Angels rescuing Suzanna,
these rarely have wings,
leading past accusers.

Willow trees swaying,
their leaves bedding our friends,
some who warred for nations,
others who could no longer fight their notes.

One came to Buddha, asking
“what is my calling?”
He whispered, “move aside,
it’s not past seeing.”

Willows reach across each other,
their leaves resting upon genesis’ clay,
some who seem forlorn,
others who’ll ready forthwith.

The Sun hymns evening’s twilight,
while the Moon sees ancient footprints,
paths collide to meddlers,
same give a road’s door to strollers.

Willow branches lean down,
their leaves covering our friends,
our friends thank Willow,
Willow thanks them for laying so still.

Shenanigans

 ‘shenanigans, and’ Trgates,7/2/2026

wee lad and grandpa talked that night,
a stroll in a heaven’s dream,
others asleep, we visited.
“see you later.”
years later in a day’s fall
after my firstborn arrived,
at twenty-two my translucent blue eyed
best friend said goodbye too,
still feel his gleam daily.
“it’s only in your head,” some dismissed.
and?
grandpas and grandmas get it,
days for arguments
claims of being right
justifications of nations warring
lockstep to another’s creeds —
gone.
sitting with friends until you look forward
to that day you’ll chat again,
when the ancients are face to face too
when war stories are gone
when perhaps frisbees and baseballs
return like boomerangs
when fantasies of 24/7 worship
or 24/7 freedom to indulge
when golden streets and pearly gates
find their goal in just being with each other.
Pooh’s friends,
with all of their shenanigans,
sometimes attentive to each other
sometimes not so much,
always Christopher Robbin’s A.A. Milne’s
storytelling
somewhere between
Pooh and Eeyore
we find what
grandpas and grandmas,
and children get.
A Hundred Acre Wood’s quite cool

Freedom’s never free

 ‘Freedom’s never free’ Trgates,7/3/2026

Our stories bring rain
tears from grief’s pain and laughter 
Flags waved and Flags draped. 

Freedom’s never free
roads paved with other’s headstones 
storms remove some names. 

Willows see Dogwoods 
suns recline upon their beds 
Redbirds visiting. 

Our stories make paths
like between cobblestone roads
graves mark this freedom. 

Flags are flown and draped
first they’re baptized in Jordan 
so we see their stars. 

Freedom’s never free
Red and Yellow, Black and White
bowed and raised our heads. 

Our stories write yours
praying our freedom you’ll share
free both here and there.

Child still leads us

 

‘a child still leads us’ Trgates,7/5/2026

bow to rulers,

religious leaders, in vogue science,

supposed brute facts,

kissing hands, rings, and 

posteriors so anteriors are ignored,

calling this commitment. 

allegiances requires blindfolds

thinking is placed on the shelf, 

Logos is replaced with theologoumenon

where convenient prelest accusations 

replace other’s blessed inquisitions. 

my Dad’s generation simply said,

“BS walks as it talks.”

more than one thing may be true 

isn’t allowed by cult leaders —

funny, freewill is free to genuflect. 

yet young children have no need,

they don’t ask “who is my neighbor?”

or “am I my brother’s-sister’s keeper?”

play and pray, work is play

may be romantic sentimentality,

so be it. 

a wordless Word,

like wingless angels 

often just sit and listen. 

perhaps I’ll learn this before exhaling. 

next, and. 

Mnesia

 “You have collected all my tears in Your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.“ Psalm 56:8

“To love another person is to see the face of God.” ― Victor Hugo

Mnesia’
timothyrgates,10/06/2014**;5/28/2018;2026

Mnesia,
people die,
i know.
such things happen.
"Death, where is thy sting?"
harps, some people's
ethereal euphemisms
for laicised angels. 
Funny, some nights,
dreaming
i remember those gone,
in their blessed repose.
Singing "Memory Eternal"
in Russian and English.
in Greek, i see them all,
chanting "μνμη..." 
Funny, a bit of Hebrew,
used to know it better,
still dreaming,
chanting
a "Kaddsh,"
in step with
a chant from "The Book of the dead."
Funny, at times,
"sitting,"
these gone,
they seem to call,
and i find myself beholding
their faces.
Funny, fact and fiction
are eclipsed,
bottled tears flow,
i awake with wet cheeks,
happy and glad
that they are still alive
in my dreams.

**first written five months after my Mother’s Blessed Repose 

I want to be a heretic

 'I want to be a heretic'                          timothy r gates, 2/01/2012

 
I want to be a heretic!
like
Mother Teresa
Martin Luther King
Mahatma Gandhi
Dorothy Day
Gurdjieff or Ouspensky
Rumi.
Problem?
i can be full of shit
i can choose to not hear those begging
i can be short-sighted, ha! at best
i can, not give a damn.
I want to be a heretic!
like
those whose actions dwarf their words.

Leaves are falling

 ‘Leaves are falling’ Trgates,9/22/2025

leaves, some are falling early,
auburn shades will be missed,
the others will follow in due course 
hues covering the earth’s bier 
in time will give life to a dormant ground. 
a few shriveled leaves will remain,
reclining upon coming sprouts 
in the spring’s birth 
awaiting burial,
side by side shaded,
morning light drying those on their bier
readied red dirt’s repose,
and first blossoms peak out,
both in due time. 
always glad for new shoots,
only Jesus knows when 
I’ll appreciate the evening’s close.

Still amazed

 ‘still amazed’ Trgates,9/1/2025

Our white picket fence,
had to trim under the slats
every time we mowed.
funny, one afternoon it rained
like icicles straight down.
Sun was blinding,
one side it poured
other side it shined,
a young lad so amazed,
sat in the middle of a
fifteen minute eclipse.
heart contains the uncontainable
Cherubim and Seraphim amazed,
watching little children
red and yellow, black and white, more,
loved by one the hosts are amazed.
picket fences still need repainted
awaiting sun and rain
on either side,
and, yes,
I’m still amazed.

My grandpa and being grandpa; we ones teach us to sing

 ‘my grandpa and being papa’Trgates,8/31/25

seeing what’s timeless 
blue and brown eyes transcend mine,
then and now’s soaring.

‘wee ones teach us to sing’
’love’s tunes’ Trgates,4/24/2023;8/31/2025
Cardinals and Bluebirds
sing their songs,
those in Blessed Repose,
those still here
hear what few choose.
some join their psalms,
some close their ears,
while Cardinals and Bluebirds
know love isn’t separated by
here or there.
pausing between breaths,
Angels listen
in awe of the melodies
from Bluebirds and Cardinals
smiling with those
here and there,
with both we’re here,
only thing that causes
these singers to stop and listen —
children,
loud, rarely quiet,
tender hearts and souls
making harmony smile.

Morning will rise

 ‘morning will rise’ Trgates,8/29/2025

lightning scares a child 
a soft rain’s sound dries their tears 
Finches play again.

History?

     “What will history say? History, Sir, will tell lies as usual.” — from movie, ‘the devil’s disciple,’ with Burt Lancaster, Kirk Douglas, Laurence Olivier, Janette Scott, Eva Le Gallienne, Harry Andrews, directed by Guy Hamilton, 1959.

Love’s repose

 ‘Love’s Repose’ Trgates,8/14/2025

today’s past dirges,
the potter’s clay now glistens,
Mothers and Sons stroll.

Prayed way too often

 ‘Prayed way too often’Trgates,5/21/2025

prayed way too often,
sometimes cursed the same,
so tired of living through another collapse. 
at four asked for heaven,
maybe after talking with Dad’s Dad,
Grandpa died that morning,
dream or not matters not. 
Talked with Jesus,
addictions, too many,
one he took away,
the others by the help of empathy 
gifted horizontal vertical hand holding. 
prayed way too often,
tried to not believe 
but haven’t been able to 
stop praying. 
every guitar picking,
rock, folk, plus my Dad’s Hank’s tunes. 
every line from
phrase to phrase,
rhythm, even some rhyme,
the gift pauses 
for a moment I hear the silence. 
prayed way too often,
no doubt needing to 
get used to the not knowing. 
Wiping my eyes into my cheeks,
I hear, “Daddy,” then
“Papa, I love you all the way
to Heaven and back, and then some.”
now this I know. 

We nod

 ‘we nod’          Trgates,5/27/2025

have prayed into no words 
past dry socket tears,
silence’s gift near redundant,
hearing in not knowing 
I find a recline,
pause,
lost a need to say thank you. 
here we nod.

You’re walking together

 

’you’re walking together’ Trgates,5/30/2025

wee laddies and lasses 
grow into adolescence,
know everything yet pretend courage,
sometimes before a hoary convalescence 
perhaps before an unaware acquiescence 
you realize you’re not alone,
the four year old hasn’t let go
looking down, looking across 
you’re walking together —
a Zen inhale exhale 
moving along a Chotki-Komboski *

beads or knots become incidental,

within the silence of “be still and…”

your ancient heart knows 

it’s genesis’ transcendence. 

smiling, your wee lad, lass 

whispers, “glad you caught up.” 

‘Chotki’s* daylight’ Trgates, 5/15/2022

pacing, rocking, nights. 

chotki, worn knots, heart’s sun rises. 

good morning daystar. 

* A prayer rope (Greek: κομποσκοίνι – komboskini; Russian: чётки – chotki (most common term) or вервица – vervitsa (literal translation); Arabic: مسبحة, romanized: misbaḥa……. part of the practice of eastern Orthodox monastics (and sometimes by others) to count the number of times one has prayed the Jesus Prayer or, occasionally, other prayers.