"It is never too late to be what you might have been."

~ George Eliot





Comments - and even criticisms - are welcome. It encourages me to know if my words touched a place in your heart; and criticisms show me how to improve. Thanks and have a wonderful day!




Tuesday, November 19, 2013

They Have Forgotten


They have forgotten to fear you, Lord.
Your commandments they’ve ignored.
They’ve declared the Word of God a sham
and defiantly snubbed the great I AM.

They take hell too lightly, Lord.  
No longer the delinquent’s reward
nor the sinner’s tortured entombment;
just a word tossed about for embellishment.

They are a stiff-necked people, Lord
and though they deserve the sword,
I plead the blood of Heaven’s Lamb
over a nation that Satan would damn.

I come to you contritely, Lord
and pray that your grace be restored
to a country whose faith has grown frail.
Without your mercy, we are fated to fail.

They have forgotten to fear you, Lord.
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"O that there were such an heart in them, that they would fear me, and keep all my commandments always, that it might be well with them, and with their children for ever!" Deuteronomy 5:29

Neither the God of all the earth or hell seem to be taken seriously anymore.

Some seem to think that our Creator and Lord is simply a myth, nothing but a fairy tale. The Bible is seen as outdated literature from the dark ages and some believe it no longer applies to us. Hell, the fiery, demon-filled, depths of damnation for all who reject the Lord, has become an adjective and not a noun - at most something in nightmares but nonexistant in reality. If one does believe in God, he is a loving God and a "loving God" would never condemn someone to hell - right?

I am not saying that God wants His people to quake in fear of Him. We should stand in awe of Him. But, neither should we forget who God is and the power that He yields. He is King over all and the day Christ returns, EVERY knee will bow.

I am not going to "preach" a sermon on sin and the consequences thereof. But, to those who don't believe in the great I AM, I have just one question. . .If I am wrong and believe in a god that doesn't exist, so what. But if eternity is only a heartbeat away, what if YOU are the one who is wrong, then what?
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Great I AM - I pray for the forgiveness of this arrogant nation. I pray that the chains of Satan that seek to bind the ones I love, and that strangle our country, be broken by the power of Jesus Christ. I hope your mercy and your grace, will allow this nation to turn once again to You. ~ Amen


Friday, September 27, 2013


Echoes of Emptiness

Hello?
                                Low…Low…Low...
Are you here?
                                Fear…Fear…Fear…
I can’t see you!
                                Rue…Rue…Rue…
It’s too dark!
                                Stark…Stark…Stark…
You promised not to leave.
                                Grieve…Grieve…Grieve…


I should have known.
                                Lone…Lone…Lone…


WHERE ARE YOU?
                                Who…Who…Who…


Slim light slices through darkness
                                Test…Test…Test…
A doorway slowly creaks open
                                Hopin’…Hopin’…Hopin’…


Are you coming then?                                                  
Then…Then…
              When…When...
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Psalm 13: 1-2
“How long O Lord, will you forget me? Forever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?
How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?”…

And so begins one of the many psalms written by David. You know, the one that the Bible proclaims was “a man after God’s own heart.” Yet, even the beloved David had periods of time that he felt abandoned by God; when the trials in his life just became too much to bear. He was a man on the run, in the wilderness, trying to evade Saul’s army. I am sure the weight of it all must have worn him down at times. Still, if a man as close to God’s heart as David could experience doubt and emptiness, then of course, so can we.

How easy it is to praise God when everything is sunshine and roses: the bills are paid and work is going well, at home the smell of warm food drifts from the kitchen, the kids are behaving and love abounds. But when times get hard and the raging storms come thundering in, that’s when the real testing of our faith begins.

As Christians, we are assured that God has a plan for us. We know in our hearts that He never leaves us and that His timing is perfect. Still, as our burdens get heavier and we bow beneath the load, we can’t help but cry out “Where are you, Lord? Have You forgotten me? How long before You rescue me from my situation?”

I wish I could tell you in forty days and forty nights the storms will scatter and the only showers remaining will be those of abundant blessings. The hard fact is there is no prearranged timetable, no countdown to mark off the days left to endure. And so we do the only thing we can do. We pull out and polish our nicked and slightly tarnished armor, strap it on, hold tight to our shields, plant our feet, grit our teeth…And wait. 
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Lord of Light, David's prayer in Psalm 13 echoes the prayer in my own heart. Like David, I end my psalm of desperate seeking with refrains of hope; for I know that even the darkness hides nothing from You and that You will provide help in Your perfect timing. Still my prayers are becoming pleadings. Come quickly to my rescue, Abba, for only You can. ~ Amen

Monday, July 29, 2013

Picture from beaconfallscongregational.org












Mustard Seed Faith

Today,
I want to tell You
that I trust you, Lord.
Though my prayers
have gone unanswered.
Though so many needs
are yet to be met.

I wait,
impatiently so.
Searching heaven for help
that's still yet to come.
I scan the skies,
each cloud that passes,
for the one You ride upon.

I search
in expectation,
with wounded spirit
covered in battered armor;
all the while clinging
to a faith larger
than the mustard seed.

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Tonight, I feel no need for an additional devotional. Simpy put, we all get weary from the battles of earth.
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Make haste, Lord Jesus. I (we) need you. ~ Amen


Wednesday, May 22, 2013
















Honeysuckle and Privet Hedge

On our Sunday morning wander,
we walked along the timbered trail;
when suddenly I stopped to smell.
Eyes closed, I stopped to ponder,
a heady perfume in the air.
What tantalizing scent hung there?
Inhale…
Exhale…
Memories flowed on fragrant breezes.

With scented wind I was carried
back to innocent childhood days.
White and yellow flowered bouquets,
gathered so my face could bury
in nose-tickling, sweet perfume,
the tendrils twined within privet blooms.
I’d pluck,
then pinch,
taste nectar’s drop upon my tongue.

Sweet memories formed by fragrant
honeysuckle and privet hedge
found along the timbered trail’s edge.
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I know some people consider honeysuckle and privet hedge to be a hindrance in the garden. They can be invasive and take over if allowed to, but I can't imagine spring without their wonderful scent wafting through the air. 

I can remember laying across my parents' bed, with their south-facing window wide open allowing the perfume of the privet bush right outside to fill the room. It is one of my favorite aromas and always takes me back to childhood. And, it never seems to fail, wherever there is privet hedge, honeysuckle is always somewhere close by. The two together flood the backyard with an intense fragrance that I wish I could bottle to enjoy in winter!

Who among us hasn't pinched off a bloom and slowly pulled it away to taste that singular drop of honeysuckle clinging to the "string"? I know adults that still can't fight that temptation at least once during the season. :-)
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Lord of Nature - You amaze me! I praise You for all the wonderful things you have surrounded us with that seduce the senses of man. . .Even the simple honeysuckle flower with its hidden drop of nectar to taste. The smell of it combined with the heady perfume of privet, brilliantly intoxicating, Father!  Help me to take more time to enjoy the simple pleasures in life, God, and to always share them with others. ~ Amen

Thursday, May 16, 2013














Wren’s Poem

O little wren,
so small and unassuming,
How can it be,
your voice rings out so clear?

The world we’re in
has a habit of presuming
that size is key,
you can’t be,
more than you appear.

Still - a plain brown bird
whose stature is misleading;
your tiny chest
swells in massive melody.

Your trill is heard
within the branches rising,
“I am blessed!”
“I am blessed,”
 so immensely. 
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You can't judge a book by its cover or a bird by their size. . .

I love feeding the birds in my backyard! You never know what is going to fly in to join the feast. But, until recently, I never realized that this common little Carolina Wren has such a BIG voice. Wrens are tiny and they are plain in their looks, just a simple cinnamon color! According to what I have read, they may weigh as much as two quarters held in your hand. Yet, their voices carry as strong a tune volume-wise as a mockingbird. I have heard their song many, many times. But, until one sang right in front of me, I never dreamed that effervescent voice came from such a pint sized, little bird. Just goes to show you should never underestimate any creature. You never know what magical gift God has given them. They say they sing, "teakettle, teakettle" but what bird sings that, lol? I changed it to "I am blessed!" :-)
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Maker of Music in Nature - I thank you for the many ways You have placed magic and beauty in our lives. Even the simplest of creatures bring wonder into this world, if we will just take time to notice. Your creativity is truly amazing, Lord. I praise You too, for even I am more than meets the eye; as is true with everyone in this world. We need only look with Your eyes, Father. ~ Amen

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

The Road Taken
 Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
      

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Day 30, Poem 30 (one day late because my internet refused to work!) - The poetry prompt for the 30th was to take an existing poem and take each line and try to exchange words for opposite meanings. Once again, I turned to Robert Frost. :-o

The original poem:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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Monday, April 29, 2013


Nothing Easy
You hide behind a scowl
to warn the world away.
But I see past your mask
and love you anyway.

Nothing . . .

worth having is easy ,
or so that's what they say.
Harder than it has to be
seems to always be our way.

And yet. .  .

when your mask slips past
to let your smile shine through,
I see the love I long to last
and know the adage is true.
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Day 29, Poem 29:

It is getting late. I had to toss aside the poetry prompt given for today or I would never get a poem written - even though I know some Spanish. The prompt was to include five words in another language. Instead, this came from somewhere unexpectedly. Thank goodness, or I would have come this far to end at day 28. :-)
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Thank you, Lord, for never giving up on us like we sometimes give up on each other. Even when I know sometimes we make it hard for you to love us. We all make mistakes, but you love us anyway. Thank you for your mercy! ~ Amen

Sunday, April 28, 2013











Green Is…
Green is the taste of crisp apples;
tangy and tart as you bite through the skin,
sweet juiciness running down your chin.

Green is the forest floor dappled
with light and looking up to see
patterns through a leafy canopy.

Green is the brush of moss beneath
fingertips; velvety soft and lush.
To the touch, both distinctive and plush.

Green is the smell of fresh cut grass;
of damp earth, herbs and scraggly weeds;
Nature's own pungent potpourri.

Green is the sound of frogs at night,
their song carrying in the calmness
of the twilight's peacefulness.

Green is wealth to the senses. 
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Day 28, Poem 28: 
The picture is one Ryan took in Japan. Isn't all the green beautiful? Today's poetry prompt was to write a color poem. I did one in the past with blue, so I wanted to do something new this time around.:-)
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Creator of All Colors - It amazes me how many shades of each hue you created in your artist's palette. So much detail that the eyes of man miss because they are in too big a hurry to truly see. Open my eyes, Lord, to all the beauty you painted all around me. Thank you for caring so much to create such beauty in this world! ~ Amen

Saturday, April 27, 2013











Fiery Games

If you play with fire, sparks will fly;
orange embered stars into the sky.
Ash with float up with the wind
then, like snowflakes, will descend.
Smoke will snake its way around,
rising high, then coiling down.
Spirited flames of orange and red
joyfully dance when they are fed
wood that crackles and twigs that pop.
But, playing with fire, you won't stop.
Too mesmerized by the flames
to retire from your fiery games.
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Day 27, Poem 27:

Today's poetry prompt was to take the beginning of a proverb or well-known saying, and using the Internet search engine, type in the first three words, etc. etc. to come up ideas to use in a new poem. I tried several sayings with the search engine, but wasn't happy with my results. I was reaching the point of giving up and going with the "optional" idea, when Barry called me outside to join him beside a fire he had built. . . .and the rest just fell into place. I still used a "proverb or well-known saying" to begin the poem though. :-)

Like almost all of the poems written quickly for this 30 day challenge, this one could still use a little "tweaking" in my opinion. I am sure I will look at it again in the future for possible revisions.
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Thank you, Father - for Barry, for the calmness being outside by a fire brings and for the peace that comes with simply being still and enjoying the company of the ones we love. ~Amen


Friday, April 26, 2013

Mowing      
                a sound beside the wood
                                       whispering
What was        whispered? I know not
               it was something
                                it whispered and did not speak.
                                    the gift of
                                                  fay  or elf:
              the sweetest dream
                         whispered and left.
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Day 26, Poem 26:
Today's poetry prompt was:
" And now, the (optional) prompt. This one’s a bit tricky, but I’ve used it to good effect in the past — and it’s the sort of thing you can do over and over again. Back in 1977, the poet Ronald Johnson first published RADI OS, an “erasure” of Milton’s Paradise Lost. Basically, Johnson took a copy of Milton’s long poem, and systematically erased whole words and even lines, while maintaining the relative position of the remaining words. You can see a brief excerpt here. Today, I challenge you to perform an erasure of your own."

Of course, I had to choose a Robert Frost poem, since he is my favorite poet! Here is his original "Mowing" for you to compare the two and see what I erased.


Mowing
There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground.
What was it it whispered? I know not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Something perhaps, about the lack of sound— 5
And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
It was not dream of the gift of idle hours,
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf:
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, 10
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake.
The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.


_________________________________________________________
Thank you, Lord, for this poetry writing challenge. It was just the "kick in the pants" I needed to start writing again. Thank you also for my cousin, Carol, who brought the challenge to my attention and encouraged me to try it. Not only am I finally writing again, because of the daily prompts, I have tried writing forms of poetry that I had never attempted before. A simple prayer, I know; but an honest one. Love you, Lord. ~ Amen


Thursday, April 25, 2013


Ballad for Sharon

Looking back on that time in June
we spent one night under the summer moon.
Arm in arm we laughed, as we slowly walked,
about everything but the disease we talked.
For a little while we pushed back the fear
of the real chance you'd not be back next year.

And now, I'm sure what I would change
if I could go back in time, my life I'd rearrange;
for time, for merely one more time,
to talk again and simply see your smile.
This June, I'm sure what I will do.
I'll walk an extra mile in memory of you.
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Day 25, Poem 25:

Today's poetry prompt was to write a ballad, basically a poem set to music. Because of meeting with my Relay For Life team tonight, the relay and my cousin Sharon were both on my mind when I sat down to write. I don't know if it qualifies for a ballad or not, but it is loosely set to the tune of Garth Brook's "The Dance." And, since writing it and reading it over and over again to try to get it perfect (which it is not yet) has made me weepy, I am keeping my comments short tonight. I love you, Sharon, and miss you always! See you on the other side. . . before we know it. 
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Father in Heaven - Please, give Sharon a hug from me tonight and tell her how much she is loved. Thank you. ~ Amen

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


A Resistant Runner
I am a beginning runner.
That my time is slow is no stunner.
At races, I hang back at the start,
so not to overhear the tart
remarks of racers who might rant
that I run the pace of a piddly ant.  

I am doing my best to train,
though sometimes it is a strain.
At times, I try to run steep stairs;
all the while praying nothing tears.
For now, my races are a personal test.
I pray someday to keep up with the rest…

to be that strong, tough, resistant runner.
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Day 24, Poem 24:
Today's NaPoWriMo prompt was: 

"And now, the prompt (which is optional)! Today I’d like you to think about words buried in words. In particular, think about the words buried in your own name. Plug your name into an anagram generator, like this one, and try writing a self-portrait poem using words that are generated."

And so, I used my first, middle and last name - so I would have more vowels to work with. One of the things the anagram generator came up with was, "A Resistant Runner." It uses every letter of my complete name, except one of the letters "a." Some of the anagram poems I looked at for examples ended each line with a word that was also contained in the name. I did the same thing with my own poem AND made it rhyme. It wasn't easy to find words that followed both requirements. 

I still wasn't too sure or the word "resistant" to describe a runner though. But, when I looked up synonyms for "resistant", I found: hard, tough, strong, unyielding and defiant. Hhhmm  okay, I can accept that! Maybe one day, that will be the kind of runner I am as well. :-)
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Maker of Man: Our bodies should be our temples. We have to live in them every day. And yet, we abuse them by our own hand. We eat too much, drink too much, don't get enough rest, don't get enough exercise, make a diet of the most unhealthy of foods. . .Teach us, dear Lord, to see our own bodies and good health as the gifts they are. Help us, help me, to take better care of the body you gave me to live in. I want to keep using it for several years to come! ~ Amen

Tuesday, April 23, 2013



Gathering Lavender and Roses
Today I gathered a bouquet
of sweet lavender and roses;
the wind was making stems to sway.
Today, I gathered a bouquet.
I had to shoo the bees away
from blooms beneath their noses.
Today I gathered, a bouquet
of sweet lavender and roses.

The bees were darting, bloom to bloom,
from rose to purple lavender.
Drunk on the pollen rich perfume,
the bees were darting bloom to bloom.
Intoxicated they consumed
the tempting, tasty nectar.
The bees were darting bloom to bloom,
from rose to purple lavender.

I watched, as in hypnotic trance,
the flowers bobbing in the wind;
their petaled heads in sprightly prance.
I watched as in hypnotic trance
the lavender and roses dance,
to soundless music Heaven penned.
I watched as in hypnotic trance -
the flowers bobbing in the wind.
___________________________________________________________
Day 23, Poem 23: 
I have to admit, when I read today's poetry prompt, I was a bit intimidated. The prompt was this:

“And now for our prompt: Today, let’s try writing triolets. A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB.”

I have never tried a "triolet" before. It sounded daunting. But, I was willing to give it a try and once I started, I found it wasn't as bad as I thought. I have been wanting to write a poem about my two favorite flowers for awhile now (lavender and roses). I love the way they smell, the way they go so perfectly together in the garden and how beautiful they look. 

The garden in the picture above is not mine. I can't remember where I got the picture from, but I "saved" it for inspiration for my own garden someday. Enjoy the poem!
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Lord of my Senses: Thank you for creating the sense of smell. I so love the scent of lavender and roses! And of course, so many other amazing smells. Every time I have a bad cold, I am reminded not to take this sense for granted; which of course, we all do until we no longer can use it. Beauty surrounds us every day, Father. Enhance all five of my senses to appreciate each thing and praise you for it. ~ Amen


Monday, April 22, 2013


Two Haiku for Earth Day
#1  The earth is broken -
       shattered glass on granite floor,
       dropped by man's disdain.

#2  Wailing night sky -
       heaven weeps for wounded earth.
       Who will dry her tears?
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Day 22, Poem 22: 

Today's poetry prompt was to write a poem to celebrate Earth Day (today). I was going to keep it simple and only write a haiku, because I had things to get done today. Instead, two haiku developed so I posted them both. 
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Creator of the Earth and Universe: Forgive mankind for not taking better care of the world you made and entrusted to us. Open our eyes to see the damage that has been done and give us the wisdom to repair it. We are only here a short time, but we must consider the generations to come. ~ Amen

Sunday, April 21, 2013


Fortune Cookies
If only fortunes in cookies came true.
I would have traveled the ocean blue,
not once, but thrice to be precise;
with a fortune to pay the price.
If only fortunes in cookies came true.
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Day 21, Poem 21: 



Today's prompt for the 30 day challenge was: "Today I challenge you to re-write Frank O’Hara’s Lines for the Fortune Cookies." I had to to twist it a little bit just because and wrote this little limerick instead of actual one line fortunes. I can see me adding other verses in the future. :-)

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Lord of my life - I don't know my fortune or my future, but you know every moment of it, even before it is written. Through the good and the bad, I know you are right by my side. I totally trust my unknown future to my known God. ~ Amen

Saturday, April 20, 2013


Sounds Like Spring
Feet up, laid back in my lawn chair.
Simply enjoying the warm air.
When the peace of my perfect day
is interrupted in the harshest way.
To the left I hear a lawn mower drone.
The right, a protesting chainsaw groans.
Next door, the scratching of rake tines
is overpowered by a weed eater's whine.
Sounds like my street is on a roll
but theirs is a path I choose not to go. 
Let my neighbors start spring cleaning.
I'm going back to my spring dreaming!
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Day 20, Poem 20: 

Today was a beautiful day! I had this long mental list of what I needed to get done for the weekend; spring cleaning both indoors and out. I got a little done. But, as the day warmed up, I slowed down. Eventually I ended up just sitting in the backyard enjoying my new flower beds and watching the dogs be lazy. I decided they had the right idea and I enjoyed being lazy with them. Yes, I heard all the noises listed in the poem. Everyone around me seemed to be busy. Good for them! For me, all that can wait until another day. It's not like little elves are going to come out of the woodwork and do it for me. LOL!
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Heavenly Father - Thank you for such a lovely day! It was beautiful and I enjoyed every minute of it. 
~ Amen

Friday, April 19, 2013


The Nature of a Poem
Softly, ever so softly,
poem's heartbeat flutters.
The rhythm murmurs,
like river pulsing over rock.

Slowly, ever so  slowly,
as words converge,
the poem emerges,
like caterpillar from cocoon.

Freedom of release, once complete,
like wind beneath wings of a hawk.

So is the nature of a poem. 
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Day 19, Poem 19: 

I went my own way tonight, instead of following the totally optional poetry prompt of NaPoWriMo. Sometimes, you just gotta do what ya gotta do. :-) 

Not sure where this poem came from or where it might be headed if I make revisions later. It is just something I have been tinkering with in my notebook for awhile - with lots of scribbles and scratch outs. For some reason, my ending to the poem has now gotten John Denver's "The Eagle and The Hawk" playing in my head. That's okay. I like John Denver. 
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To the Rider of the Clouds - Oh how I have always longed to fly like a hawk, riding the currents of the wind. I watch birds in flight with envy. And yet, I hate flying in machines made by man. I just don't trust airplanes and pilots. But, one day, Lord, one day with you. . . . I love you, Lord. ~ Amen

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Grumpy Kind of Day

GRUMPY! Tonight is a grumpy night.
A groaning, moaning kind of night.
Tossing and turning while yearning for rest.
The kind of night that makes me stressed.
I pull the covers to my chin
then I throw them off again.
Midnight, two and then there's four.
Why am I even trying anymore?
Finally! When I'm good and comfy. . .
The alarm goes off, making me GRUMPY!

GRUMPY! Today is a grumpy day.
A growling, grumbling kind of day.
Cold rain and wind, when yesterday was sun.
The kind of day I’d love to shun.
To pull covers over my head
and stay hidden in my bed.
But responsibilities wait
and so I must not be late.
To work I go, feeling frumpy. . .
Which makes me all the more GRUMPY!
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Day 18, Poem 18: 
Today's poetry prompt was to write a poem that the first word and the last word are the same. I have thought about it off and on all day, wondering what word to use:
Remember. . . Why. . .Wonder or even Wander. . . .What, When, Where, AHA!

Then, I decided to use the word that most described how I feel today - GRUMPY! 
I haven't slept well in what seems like ages. When you don't rest well, eventually the exhaustion seeps over into your daytime hours and like it or not, it effects your attitude and everything else! So, luckily, tonight's poem came easily and I have hopes for an early bedtime. . .and, I pray, a much more peaceful sleep.
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"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 
Matt. 11:28 KJV
"I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety." 
Psalm 4:8 KJV
~ Amen



Wednesday, April 17, 2013


Morning Greeting
The front porch swing creaks
with each returning sway.
With each pass it speaks,
"Peace to you today."

With eyes closed, I cling
to the stillness of morn.
A mockingbird sings,
"A new day is born."

I pause in prayer
and give a reverent nod,
to the Majesty of morning,
"Good morning, God."
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Years ago, the "Family Circus" cartoon  showed two scenes of someone getting out of bed. One scene showed a very haggard looking Dad getting out of bed and saying, "Good God, morning," the other showed a whole different demeanor of, "Good morning, God!" It made an impression on me. Every since then, I try to start my day with the latter of the two. Attitude, from the very first moments of morning, I think, makes a difference in the day. Try it for a few days and see what I mean. :-)
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Majestic Maker of the Morning, I thank you for each day I am given, for not everyone has the blessing of a new day. May I always start the day with optimism instead of pessimism, thanking you for the time I am given. Please allow me to use it wisely. ~ Amen

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


What Will You Say?

With words I created a world,
an exquisite place of wonder.
The sound of my voice created
 a world of both strange and unique.
With mere words I created
the tiny building blocks of life,
neutrons, protons, atoms, cells,
the coursing of blood through veins,
the throbbing of each heartbeat,
the inhale and exhale of breath.

With words, I created things of awe,
great things beyond understanding.

And to you, that I made only
a little lower than angels,
I ask. . .
What will your words create?
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Philippians 4:8 KJV

"8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."

And to that may I add, SPEAK on these things! There is so much negative in our world already that sometimes it is hard to focus on the positive and pure. Words are building blocks, but they can also be the bulldozer that destroys! Which words will you choose? Words that create or words that devastate?
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Father of creation: Yes, I believe in the big bang theory. You said it and "BANG!" it happened! Words are powerful, Lord. With words we build relationships and with words, we can destroy them. Words can be loving and kind or harsh and cruel. Help me each day to choose my words wisely. Forgive me, when the negative world around me rubs off and unkind words slip out of my mouth instead. May my words uplift, comfort, guide and may they always be pleasing to your ears.  ~ Amen

Monday, April 15, 2013

For Boston

Exhilaration coursed through their racing heartbeats.
Rejoicing as they took off running for their dreams.

Celebration became sheer terror in the streets.
with the anguish of your broken heart, my tears stream.
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Day 15, Poem 15:

A day of great sadness and tragedy. . . The prompt today was for a pantun poem, which is a Malay poetic form that only has 4 lines with an a-b-a-b rhyming pattern. It is a good thing today's poem style is short, because with the bombings at the Boston Marathon today, my heart is not in a very poetic mood. My prayers are with Boston and all who were there. God be with them all. 
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Heavenly Father, I would ask what is becoming of the world today, but I already know the answer. Please, be with all the runners, bystanders, family and friends and the whole city of Boston. Thank you that the one person I know that was there is okay and hold closely the ones who are not. May evil be punished swiftly! ~ Amen

Sunday, April 14, 2013


A Passive Man
I strive to be a passive man.
I attempt to keep things peaceful.
While anger inside others may rise,
within me, it becomes lethal.

When angry, they say their blood boils.
Mine reeks from radiation.
While rage within others may mount.
with me, it sets off a mutation.

I try to be a passive man,
"You won't like me when I'm angry,"
Yet, they see the wimp before them
and not the raging beast within me.

All I want is the cure unknown,
for me and the beast within.
All the beast wants is to be left alone.
Yet, somehow, trouble always finds us. 
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Day 14, Poem 14: 

Today's poetry prompt was to write a persona poem in the voice of a comic book superhero or villain. LOL! Okay, definitely not my usual theme for a poem. But for the fun of it, why not? Who should I choose? I liked Rogue when I was a child. . . and Gambit. . .Batman and Superman were okay, but. . . . Hhhhmmm.  I always, always liked the Hulk. Maybe, like my love for every lost animal I tried to bring home, I felt sorry for him. THEN, the TV series came out and I was REALLY hooked! I watched every one of them! I can still hear the theme music played at the end of every show, titled "The Lonely Man."  So sad.
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Jesus - You are my real life superhero. Thank you for rescuing me! ~ Amen

Saturday, April 13, 2013



Saturday Morning Stroll
Cedar waxwings, by the dozen,
flit about, from limb to limb.
On closer inspection,
I see the confection,
black, ripe elderberry,
that's worth facing their fear of man.

Cardinal's sweet song, like a church hymn,
melodic praise, note on note.
I search the trail's rim
until I find him,
his scarlet made brighter
clashing against dull, brown limbs.

Red fox tree squirrel, in an oak tree,
munching contently, bud after bud.
He's mighty gutsy
not three feet from me.
Though I could touch him,
he simply eyes me, as I walk by.

Cross the old bridge, with the iron bow,
round the curve, step after step.
It's time to go I know,
but I don't want to though,
reluctant to leave the peace given,
on my Saturday morning stroll.
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Day 13, Poem 13:

I loved today's poetry prompt! Why? Because I love my early morning walks on Trail de Paris. If you get out early enough, before everyone else, you never know what little critters you are going to see. It is so peaceful and calm, the perfect way to start the day. :-)
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I love being surrounded by the nature and wildlife you have created, Lord. I feel more at home there than anywhere else. I feel your presence near me and am reminded of the song, "In The Garden." Such peace. . . Thank you, Lord, for meeting me there every time. ~ Amen

Friday, April 12, 2013


Corinthians 13 Garden

Hope is the seedling
pushing past the darkness
to break through soil's surface
gasping for fresh air.

Faith is the leaflets
unfolding like dancers,
graceful ballerinas,  
arms stretching for sky.

Love is rain and sun
both in perfect measure
timed by the Gardener
to coax seedling into bloom.

And the greatest of these is love. . .
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Day 12, Poem 12:

To be honest, I didn't really care for the NaPoWriMo's poetry prompt for today, so I went my own way. It isn't a perfect piece yet and I know it. But, I will revisit it in the near future and see what develops then. For tonight, this simple beginning will have to do. Inspired by one of my favorite chapters of the Bible, 1 Corinthians 13.
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You are the Master Gardener, Lord. I am the seed. May I bloom beneath your tender care into the woman we both want me to be. ~ Amen

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Butterfly Trail

Petals floating down,
winged blooms swirling in brisk air,
flurry on flurry.
As we walk the rain-kissed trail
flowers land then fly away. 
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Day 11, Poem 11:

Today's National Poetry Writing Month challenge was to write a form of poetry known as tanka. It is a form of Japanese poetry that is normally non-rhyming and has the pattern 5-7-5-7-7. From what I read, it was usually a poem about love or loss or a poem about nature. 

I decided to write about a time I was walking the trail with my love and we noticed a single butterfly floating toward us. It landed on Barry and got comfortable. As we stood there, we were suddenly engulfed by a flock of the butterflies! It was surreal and wonderful; a time I will never forget. 
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Creator of all Life: Butterflies are so amazing, each kind so unique. To me, they are a symbol of hope; because this one creature alone is proof that things do change - otherwise a caterpillar would forever be a caterpillar. Thank you, my Lord, for the detail and beauty you painted on each tiny wing. ~ Amen 

Wednesday, April 10, 2013


The Rock
You are the rock in our relationship.
You are the foreboding boulder
that blocks the path to our happiness.
Your unyielding stance on compromise
-condemns us.
Your unwillingness to make the slightest change
-seals our fate.
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Day 10, Poem 10:

Today's poetry prompt was to write an un-love poem or simply a "dislike" poem. Hhhhmmm...

Every relationship has it's ups and downs. And, like I have told my sweetie many times (and sometimes in two different languages), "It is a good thing I love you; because right now I really don't like you." I don't know of any relationship that doesn't occasionally hit a stumbling block - or rock in this case. The one thing I have learned from my parents' fifty years together - to make it work, you stick it out, especially during the difficult, "I don't like you right now," periods.

I pulled this scribbled poem out from an old notebook. It was obviously written at a bad moment in time. I made a few tiny revisions and edited out quite a bit. Short and not so sweet, here is my un-love poem!
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Lover of my Soul: Thank you for loving me, even when I am unlovable to others (and sometimes even to myself). Love isn't always easy. TRUE love always finds a way to make it work, because the end results are worth it. ~ Amen

Tuesday, April 9, 2013



On Borrowed Time
Mr. Brink is not so bad.
Matter of fact, he's kind of sad.
He's caught in Gramp's apple tree.
Now how, you ask, can that be?

It started with a wish Gramps made.
Once in his tree, there thieves stayed.
Not forever, don't you know;
only until Gramps let them go.

To his surprise, the wish came true.
An apple thief got stuck like glue.
Gramps let him down, once he swore
never to steal apples any more.

What's that to do with Brink, you say?
Well, he came to take Gramps away.
But, Gramps was no way ready to go.
He wanted to watch his grandson grow.

So clever Gramps has Death treed
and only he says when he's freed.
Oh, Gramp's thinks this all is grand;
but. . .
          nothing's dying throughout the land.

Unless of course, they touch the tree
that Mr. Brink cannot flee.
Want to know how the story ends?
I will not say, but recommend,
go see this show with your friends.

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Day 9, Poem 9:

Death comes for everyone is just not the case in the 1939 film "On Borrowed Time." Thanks to cantankerous Gramps and his quick thinking trick. :-) The poetry prompt today was to write a poem inspired by noir. Now, to be honest, I didn't have a clue what they were talking about. SO, I looked up the definition and Merriam-Webster said this:

"genre that offers dark or fatalistic interpretations of reality. The term is applied to U.S. films of the late 1940s and early '50s that often portrayed a seamy or criminal underworld and cynical characters. The films were noted for their use of stark, expressionistic lighting and stylized camera work, often employed in urban settings."

Eh, okay, but not okay. So, I decided to choose another black and white film from the past that I love, "On Borrowed Time" with Lionel Barrymore from 1939. Gramps fits the cynical character! If you prefer the theme of a mystery love story, well this is a love story too; but not the romance kind. Instead, you find the intense love and friendship between a grandpa and his grandson. There is even the "seamy" side, if you use seamy to mean "unpleasant" to describe the aunt who wants the grandson; only for his inheritance money. Haven't seen it?? WATCH IT! Obviously, I enjoyed it. 
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Giver of our every breath - I thank you for today and every day I have. "Mr. Brink" has already taken many I love to live in heaven with you. Death is not something to be taken lightly; but it is not something I fear either. When one day you send "Mr. Brink" for me, I pray I accept his hand with grace to join our amazing family reunion in heaven. ~ Amen

Monday, April 8, 2013


Unnoticed
I am tiny dewdrops born in morning mists,
evaporated by midday from sun's rays.
I am the forgotten wind that exists
unnoticed by you as you rush through your day.
I am the echo that cries out and insists
I too matter and have something to say.
I am the overlooked and disregarded,
the one you took for granted and discarded.  
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Day 8, Poem 8: 

My attempt at an ottava rima, which is harder than it appears. And since it was harder than I thought it would be, I chose a harder topic for the poem - the feeling of being forgotten, unneeded and unwanted. We all have those bad days at some time or another. ____________________________________________________________
Thank you, Comforter - for being right there beside me, even on my lonely, just got to have a good cry, days. I know that no matter how much I feel invisible to others, you always see me - all the way into my heart and soul. I love you, Lord. ~ Amen

Sunday, April 7, 2013


The Wood Thrush
A wood thrush darts in my drive.
He scurries right, left, then right again.
His head is bowed low.
His body is straight.
He is a speeding arrow.
Abruptly, the thrush brakes.
A sentry guarding his post looks both ways.
Suddenly, he dashes under the hedge.
I hear persistent scratching.
The thrush is relentlessly raking leaves.
What hidden treasure is he seeking in the dirt?
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Day 7, Poem 7:

I enjoyed watching this wood thrush so much. He was hilarious! He would dive under the hedges, search for his treasure and then fly away. About five minutes later, he would be back again and the whole scene would play out again. Maybe he was gathering food for babies and taking it back to the nest. I don't know. But, he was being very cautionary! 

I suppose my love for our little winged friends came from my parents. They feed them, provide houses for them, and even go out another door when the swallows that make a nest on their kitchen porch (every year!) have babies in the nest. 
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To the Maker of man, beast and bird - Thank you for creating the birds whose wonderful songs fill the air and whose antics bring me and my family so much enjoyment. ~ Amen

Saturday, April 6, 2013




The Essence of Spring
Sitting on the front porch swing
listening, absorbing, swaying. . .
gathering the essence of Spring.

Testing blossoms one by one,
bees drink from blueberry cups.
Nature's wine tasting has begun.

All birds sing in the chorus
chirping, tweeting, twittering. . .
heralding the arrival of Spring.

Roses nod agreement with the wind.
Purple iris bath in sunlight.
The alluring scent wisteria lends. 

Sitting on the front porch swing
listening, absorbing, swaying. . .
gathering the essence of Spring. 
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 Obviously, most of my inspiration lately comes from the beautiful weather we are having. I offer no apologizes. Before this 30 poems in 30 days challenge is over, there will probably be more verses inspired by the birds, bees, flowers and trees. God has surrounded us with beauty and we should reveal in it! Happy Spring, everyone!
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Thank you, Glorious Creator - for the beautiful day today. The weather tempted me away from housework and even from yard work. I simply spent the afternoon enjoying Your handiwork. Thank you, again. ~ Amen