On harvesting truth

4 For behold the field is white already to harvest; and lo, he that thrusteth in his sickle with his might, the same layeth up in storethat he perisheth not, but bringeth salvation to his soul;

5 And faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of God, qualify him for the work.

6 Remember faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, brotherly kindness, godliness, charity, humility, diligence.

7 Ask, and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Amen. (Doctrine and Covenants 4)

It struck me today an additional meaning of this scripture.  I am learning some of the process Joseph used in restoring the church.

He gathered it more like Ruth the gleaner then fully firmed ex nihilo. 

The notebooks where the early text begin to form show signs of collaboration almost like he was seeking spiritual confirmation from others he had learned to trust.

Joseph saught to democratize the prophetic voice.  He wanted all to have a revelation.

On becoming friends.

This is where we first,
became known,
this one and I.

We where not friends,
far too long.

Too much alike,
to ever be the same.

We exercised our demons,
together,
a-part.

It is asphalt now,
as it was then,

this the playground,
and our friendship.

Have we changed much,
this parking lot,
and I.

Does difference, make us the same?

How much of our distance was of my fault.

Then the comes the letter,
we are different no more,
now always the same.

I mourn now the choices we make,
the pain I did not remove,
the light I did not bring.

Till we meet again my friend,

I exercise my demons
and seek the light.

*revised July 2018 from a poem posted to Facebook in July 2015 on the suicide of a friend Kelley Niederhauser.

It is a parking lot made from the playground of the old. Woodruff Elementary School in Logan Utah.

Kelley wrote me a letter when we left on our mission's.  I still long for the memories we did not share.  If we had reconciled sooner or I had shared myself more, their might have been a different ending.

When I had my darkest day no firearms were in the home.  Still understand do I and greave the loss of what might have been.

On grandpas anvil

Grandpa's anvil
sits in the garage.

He used it to create,
horseshoes.

We use it to repair,
cars.

Dad tells me it left home, once.
Grandpa went to fetch it home.

A neighbor had a need,
then returned it, not.
Grandpa pulled out a switch,
and beat that anvil.

Grandpa was a small man,
over the shoulder he carried it,
told that anvil never to leave home again.

This story my Dad tells me about of his granddad.

Passed down through the ages,
the story, and anvil.
Always together,
never apart.

What will they, carry, down.
My children, when gone, I am?

This my Luv, and the truth, I share.

The poet

This, did I not ask,
for.

to be a poet

not like a violinist,
or pianist.

A talent, to be selected,
and matured.

It is imposed,
when it comes.

This newness,
this muze.

It comes to me,
unapposed.

Like the morning rain,
to the flowers.

The mouse seeking,
for the cat

This then does,
feed my soul.

*C.S. lewis said as an atheist his search for God was like the mouse's search for the cat. "Surprised by Joy"

-- 

Steven Bassett

Luv is a verb

This new word, com'th to me.

This verb, this new thing,
that comes to me now.

Is it naught?,
this new thing,

How to do it,
Not.

This thing, this new thing.

It is painful, and with it comes growth.

When I choose it, we both grow.

This thing to come,
years now.

When it does, I am greatful,
for the gift.

We share, now.

Difficult things, and the dance

Difficult things, I seek then to know.
Yet thus to explain, then able,  e'm not.

I ponder them now,
this many years

These thoughts, then to share ,
thus, desire I now.

Why do you not,
understand me then?

To win an argument,
seek, I then not.

I want to share, a truth.

Maybe the day, will come,
when prepared to receive, you are

Or better able, to explain, I am.

Till then, shall we dance,
and be friends.

The Negotiation

Now begins...

The third marriage,
To the first wife.

Began then the first,
Young love,
full of possibility.

Two comes the babies,
when no life, we create,

Together.

From one,

who luvs us,

All.

Then three comes the time,
The babies now raised,
Our parents come now,
To the end of their days.

That this now complete,
The promises kept,
The cycle complete,
The covenants shared.

Tobe Unborn and Luved

Dana was my name.

Dana Allan ...

Prepared, not was Momma,
for my birth.

This then, the I.U.D.

Four others already had she,

and with Daddy that made five.

Luv'd him, did she,
and them, too.

Life is hard, real hard.  

She saught to fill his needs,
and there's too.

Young she was, and maturing too.

Now I understand,
I hope they do, too.

Then comes grace,
and forgiveness.

I hope you are luv"d,
remembered,
and mourned.

(Note an I.U.D is an intrauterine device designed to prevent conception.
My Mom was wearing one the day I was born. 
She desire not my birth, yet name me she did,
and mourned my loss the remainder of her days.)

.

The Handmaiden ToBe

Their she lay, at Boaz foot ...

Tobe covered, by the hem,
Of the covenant.

Then on to bring forth the child,
of Naomi, and Boaz.

That the inheritance and covenant,
may continue.

This then the promise was made,
and the promise was kept.

To the bring forth, the Kings.

First David, then Jesus,

To serve them all.

What Remains

Caught by the grandkids ...

mak'n out, at the cemetary.

Their, were they,  
tobe, with their daughter,

and what remains.

It had been long, too long

this last, separation

Luv takes time ...

This long time.
it simmers, and bubbles, and over flows.

Then what remains, in old age?

How to rekindle,
that midnight cigarette?

This then, they do now, here,

with their daughter, son, and grandkids.

The Other Handmaiden

What of the other,
handmaiden.

She who bore,
the Son of God.

Was she like the former.

Ruth bore, the son of Naomi.
The grandfather, of David.

So to the handmaidens,
now we do ...

This then honor,
the Mother Of All.

"Entreat me not to leave thee ...

Thy people shall be my people ...
Thy god is my God."

He who bore the sins of the world.
Born of a handmaiden.

A gift to The Mother,
Eternal, in her home above.

We speak not of her,
this then, must we change.

This then to honor,
them all.

That then all of the handmaidens,
to the Mother, Eternal...

May they share. The fruits of their womb.

Eternal.

A Handmaids Tale

Ruth was Naomi's handmaiden.
This fruit of her womb, given as a gift,
and a sign of love.

I have know Naomi,
I have know Ruth.

I choose to luv,
them both.

One for the gift of life,
the other for the gift of her life.

For to cherish the children,
both they do.

On Conception

She remembered the night,

Concieved, I was ...

This most memorable occasion.

At my dad's sister's,

in St George, Utah.

I, the only child, 

born, in the summer,

in the afternoon.

What brings one to travel 

to St George,

in the winter?

To see Dads Father,

on his winter flight, 

to Utah's Dixie?

Grandpa didn't like the cold

One son, she had, already,

Momma never had trouble,

making babies.

What then followed,

was the difficulty.

Her Momma had 10 children, 

in 14 years.

Momma offered her life,

everytime she delivered a child.

Her blood pressure was high.

The doctor feared to lose her.

Her last child, Dana Allen,

was lost in utero.

I  often think of Momma.

Her greatest fear, 

too many children.

Mine,

Never to father one.

Prepared, to have another child,

she was not .

She mourned his loss,

the remainder of her days.

I have fathered children,

a gift from one,

who luv's us.

It is said part of the baby,

remains with the momma,

after the birth.

I wonder how much of Momma ... 

remains with me?

--

Steven Bassett

--

Steven Bassett

The danger, was there.

Slow down He said.
There is danger ahead,
slow down.

No danger was there
I saw it not.

Thus, I slowed down.

I have learned to heed his council.
That is why I preside now,
over his mission,
and 240 of his children.

That nothing happened.
Did I hear Him wrong?

This I did not!
I know his voice,
as a child knows his father.

Then on I go,
to preside again.

Because I headed his voice,
nothing, was there.

On this Mother's Day

To this, to then.
This Mother's Day,

To then, to this,
Go forth, and now

To Joy go forth,
to share it now.

To rise, to fall
then onward go.

To luv, my Mom,
and then my wife.

To bring the joy,
then, now we share.

Then on, to forth,
to our daughter now.

On Mothers Day

To Mothers, this day,
Then not my best.

To this, then Mothers,
Then tobe.

She loved me, then,
Now, both they do.

The first, then Mom,
now then, my wife.

To honor, both then
This then, I do.

Then to another,
She then, will be.

Mothers, till then,
They all, then be.

This then , this poem

To separate God, from my culture. 
This then, this poem
Is, tobe....

Caffeine and the Word of Wisdom

He said not to drink caffeine,
the minister did,
if i wanted to go on a mission
then drink it not,

it is law 
Gods law,
the word of wisdom.

I was then faithful.
To the law.

or was I?

I potted the plant

Nephi, cut off, the head of Laban ...

I potted the plant.

if I were but more, faithfull

would I still pot the plant?

Death comes knocking at our door,

urging me to let it in ...

but then I potted the plant.

Nephi lopped off the head, 

to preseve,.

the history,

of the family.

I potted the plant

to preserve,

life, of the one.

I then free to choose,

my actions this day.

The consequence less,

and the price,

I too pay.

On mommas poem

I found the poem, today.
the one to daddy,
before he was daddy.

Momma had the prettiest penmanship,
but spell, she could not,
to save her life.

I loved to read, mommas letters.

To me, she wrote one,
when I broke my arm,
as a child.

I found it in the baby book ...
the one she started,
but never completed ...

Their was a shadow, on the book,
left by the trauma, of my surgery,
at birth.

Momma luved Daddy,
the kind of luv that stays,
and works things out.

I want that kind of luv,
for my wife and children.

To stay and work things out.

Maybe someday,
they will find my letters, and poems,
and feel my luv for
my wife, and their grandmother.

When we started the war

It began in Daviess County.

We the persecuted ones,

we left New York

we left Kirtland

we left Missouri

we left Illinois

then came Utah, and Mountain Meadows,

but then we started the war.

In Far West, on July 4 1838, we said no more.

Sidney Rigdon, and The Salt Sermon.

We warned the Missourians,

what would happen,

if thy continued, 

then, we burned their homes,

and destroyed their goods

Because we said, no more

Now we are alone at Hauns Mill,

because, He said no more,

They are My children too ...

our homes destroyed, because,
He said no more.

Now we learn at Liberty Jail-Temple

to say no more, and learn to serve and protect

This, then, his way, now.

Then on, to be alone, 

no more ...

Into the Danger Zone

It was a Kenny Loggins night,

There by the banks of the old canal,
behind the elementary school,
theme from "Top Gun",
on the WalkMan.

This place, full of memories, bad ...
and good, on the highway,
to the danger zone

She was his first, and still his only ...

Tomorrow, at the Temple,
they will covenant to be one.

Together, they will share,
This ride, into the wind.

But for now, He thinks
Of the dance, to come.

This life, together, and apart.

They Danced

Why continue, the dance.

Nearly 50 years, separated only by death.

She really wanted the 50, years.

Come together, separate, then together ...
Again.

Their had been other lovers but only one
Real, luv.

Why continue the dance?

She really luved him but life,
With him, was hard.

She never let anyone close, really close

But the dance they shared,
The life they shared.

It ment so much, to them, and the children.

Is love then truly an act and not a feeling.

To endure the heartache and pain.

This then the dance, together and apart.

The scars we carry

We both carry the scars,
the ones from our darkest day.

I for the life I lived,
He from the life I lived.

Dark with dispair, was I.
To carry my dispair, did he.

How I long to speak, to him,
of our scars.

He must have luved me,
as I long to luv them now.

This is a dream we share,
the scars that bind us ...

Eternally.

On learning new things

Difficult things, I seek to know.
Yet thus explain,  I cannot.
And little understand, do I yet.

I ponder them now,
These many years

Long do to I desire,
to share these thoughts.

Then why do you not,
understand me thus?

To win an argument,
I do not, then seek.

I want to share, a truth.

Maybe the day, will come,
when better prepared to receive, you are

Or more able, to explain, I am.

Till then, shall we dance,
and be friends.

On her paintings

She painted,
In water colors and oil.

Whence she started, I do not know.

Late in life, I do suppose.

In life, I did not appreciate them.

Long gone, she is now.

Charlene her daughter in law
She was living with, when grandma died.

She sent them to my sister.

We have them now.

I long for her presence,
the paintings will do..
for Now.

Maybe my children will have my poetry,
when gone, I am, too.

Will they long for me, as I do, for her ...
Now

The Castle

Their is a castle set
In the middle of our town

A castle built
To house a God.

Their are battlements,
But no keep and bailey

I have seen it,
from my bedroom window,
this lifetime.

We build temples,
so God can be with us, in our midts.

Emmanuel.

Long before I understood,
why we built them,

I wondered,

Why? battlements.

They were Englishman,
The first ones.

But Swedes, and Swiss , Germans too.

Refugees from their homeland,
Come to build Gods Kingdom

My people left The United States,
to gain religious Freedom.

Having been conquered, in the Mexican American war,

They then became territory.

The Utah Territory.

Their first governor, a prophet,
battled Johnston's Army,
to a stalemate.

For fourty years they battled to leave and then to rejoin The United States.

So the first four temples in Utah all have battlements.

A sign of victory, through defeat.

The choice

Why choose,
to end a life.

Mistakes he had made,
and been forgiven.

Then came, new life,
a wife, and 2 children.

Still the demons haunted him.

The seizures, waking,
have returned again.

He tried, so hard,

To begin life, anew.

I have had dark hours too.

I know the despair felt, that day.

Luckily no access to guns, did I have,
on my day.

Others live with our choices, too.

Now two babies have no father.
The world has one more widow.

And I am a loss,
to explain, the choice.

On creating midrash

She had told him,
The young life, had been wasted?

Or did she.

He ask momma,
Why his daughter died.

His daughter being less then 6 months.

Crib death they called, it.
No explanation, no answer.

He ask Momma,
Why.

To help you be a man.

He said I am not a man, I have not changed.

He heard, "Your daughters life's was wasted"

He then became a man, and changed.

This is the story, I heard,
as I studied,
at his table.

Two lives improved, by her short life.

Now I tell you the story.

This is the power of myth,  as it becomes midrash.

The poems

To this then the poems.

Come forth unannounced
Unaware.

I call them forth, naught.

From whence do the come?

Come forth thence do, they.

To bless, and to share.

Thus,
therapy, could be they?

Share them, do I,
Then.

In hopes to bring forth,
The light.

For all to share.