I’ve Been Asking

Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶

If I was inside not here–away– I’d miss the rickety sounding chip, chip, chip of the cautious squirrel feasting on my deck. I’d be still and safe and sure of my surroundings but could never feel this lacy, lingering, gentle breeze lilting along the leaves of the trees. My eyes would rest on the all…
One thing the world needs is for more people to read poetry. Especially from female writers of a certain age who identify as people of faith. I hope you enjoy this small round up and take the time to read more of their work via the links provided. You will be richer for it. It should…
I wish I could collectthe light, landing its shadowson this page as it creepsever brighter through the gray. Pour it out to wash my heart,salve the wound of thispresent heaviness, the sighsthat never end. Hold it lightly aloft, prayingno sharp wind orquiet, steady breezesnuff it out, for weneed it so Father, carry us,ferry us through…
Hanan Samuel Collins, Age 8 Multnomah Falls, OR I wrote this poem on the January day in 2003 when my first grandson, Hanan Samuel, was born. Your birth today unequivocally proved that science still can do nothing at explaining the miraculous. The day you came into the world the…
Prayer at my desk over pasta reminds me I’ve been away from this place way too long. This familiar pathway back to this quiet corner with Him– like a trail worn through the woods towards home or a boat returning to anchor in the harbor. It’s this Presence I remember, the sweet rest of…
A mystery, really–these mute carriers of a collection of qualities known only to humankind. The sway of the valise, a pendulum of skin-covered appendages, the flip of the handbag: back-side, front-side, side-side synchronized while hiking the concrete sun-filled hillsides up to the top~ View Just Ahead. Oblivious to said view in their busy ant kingdom…