Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
They shimmer and sway in the breeze branchy partners against a Danube blue sky. Glassy diamonds on the green– arrow fragments, light glimmering in an anthem song. The play a tune for my eyes, loudly announcing the beauty of dusk, a message in light music reflecting in emerald on the velvet evening. The leaves bend…
I avoided it as long as I could, skirted the issue like a wallflower at my first dance. Curious from afar about such beauty and grace, wondering at the words. I felt unequal to the task conversing with verse– or worse–writing it… why? What if I was wrong? I hesitated as long as I could,…
Across the pencils pointed skyward like so many word-wielding swords past the gray and steel of overflowing desks filled with orphaned papers stashed, crumpled askew over the carpet-bland, sturdy, useable home to small and hopeful feet to the doorway–closed. Through it comes life and noise and limbs, any moment now– eager hearts, chattering faces, souls…
It only takes a few blueberries to purple the smoothie in my glass. Begging to add to the blender to lose that indigo hue– strawberries (darker) milk (lighter) still leaves it purple-ish, staining my teeth on the way down and the sink when I’m all…
spent some time with the family recently. A lot of family….ever felt like this? ~~~~~~~~~~~ My train of thought often veers off track taking side journeys to sights unknown. I’ve jumped the rails, freight cars airborne, leaving passengers in my wake, schedules in hand, confused, wondering– did they miss the whistle at the station— ’cause surely,…
Four thirty a.m. The “chree-chree-chree” sounds in the far off greeny bog. “Whis-tle” “whis-tle” “whis-tle” returns the call, floating notes through the open window. A chorus of chirps and cheeps overlap like leaves in a pile at the singing tree, all the feathered throats announcing– messaging, instantly– a new day never-been-done day, it’s-another-start-day. So I…
The feeder hangs swaying, no avian fellows alighting. (males are the brightest; why?) I wait and watch–they’ve flown I wonder where–for food? Will their shimmering yellow return, a harbinger of the lightening days ahead? Indeed, one by one, I know they’ll come hungry again (still) as they’ve done year after year finding food, flying beauty, feeding me with their…
I stray like string in the wind untethered from that tight spot at the bottom holding me in place. Anchored there tension provides strength for the tune to be played– a fiddler bows across the tautness and chords are plied, played as His fingers hold me in place. Snapped, tho’, the string aflutter, undone there…
Fireworks have nothing on me, no man-made show can match this explosive display. Shocking green here, shouting magenta there, showy white front and center. No gunpowder could blow breezes like this to bristle trees, to “whoosh” the wind across the skies, no factory fierce enough to produce this bright beauty. Spring’s verb says the growing…
W CROSS R D S Lamb. Perfect. Hung. Alone. Naked. For me. Abandoned. Blamed. Spit on. Mocked. Forsaken. For me. Loving. Spotless. Alone. For love. Blood poured out. For me. Broken. Crying. Praying. Dying. A garden beginning, A garden His ending. On a hill he hung for me.