Category Archives: My Poems

Conversation {a #poem}

IMG_20191027_153436What did I do to deserve this? is the wrong ask.

Because you didn’t.

Do anything.

There is no quid pro quo/cash economy in this wide

invisible, Kingdom-filled world. The sunlight searching

between oak leaves, the slant of green on the birdbath,

chime of silver in the breeze. It’s all gift.

Like the sloppy kiss of a two-year-old or an unexpected

letter in the mail, you are worth surprising.

Don’t quibble with your questions, paint your Creator

God as an if/then Saviour. He is a because/when God.

Because you are mine, I will pour out my gracelings

when I want, to whom I want.

Just look up from time to time and say thanks.

That is always the correct answer.

Grandson, Summer {a #poem}

P_20180821_073924_vHDR_On

The raspberries–your favorite–ripened after

You’d gone, the sun’s August denouement

Leaving a subtle ruby postscript like pendants

Suspended on green-edged strands.

Gentle tugs released the jewels between

My fingers then traveled to my mouth.

They were (almost) sweet and needed

More time for sugaring. Had you been here

To share the waning warm days’ treasure

I could have held you, too, before you

Grew into full fledged bloom, walking into

The world seeking your own fruited fortune.

August 2018

——

((sneaking back in with this short verse to share with you while the Muse strikes))

((new website is gonna be awesome~stay tuned!))

Leafworks {a #poem}

IMG_20150327_173030229Like the bound bud in the almost

bloomed magnolia, there is life

ready to burst, tight secrets

on the God side buried within

these cool, bright days.

I’m waiting, watching, counting

the sleeps until a quiet

wonder world awakes. Amazed,

I waltz between the longest watch

from each dormant doorway,

through the chill and darkened

mornings to a heart like an open gate.

Ear cupped, poised for my next

birth, I linger for delivery

of the morning’s message–

free and God-breathed–

a silent, green unfurling.

——-

Prayers, Lost & Found {a #poem}

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This is the day I found my purple gardening gloves.

Not all purple, mind you, but leather on the business side,

lost in the melee of home projects, outdoor-type,

stashed behind the paint cans and spackle,

under the eaves, out of the weather.

Irreplaceable, thank you.

“No honey, I can’t just wear your gloves, they’re extra large.

I want mine….they fit. Like a glove.”

This is also the day I found the black

peppercorns–16 ounce plastic container

from the Big Box store. (and why do we need all those

peppercorns? And how did such a vast sum go missing?)

Eyes alert for something else, I wasn’t even

looking for my gloves. Imagine the silent leap inside

as I laid eyes on what had been lost after all those days.

I leave my prayers in odd places, too.

Gathering dust in hidey-hole corners,

out of sight and out of mind.

Forget to remember where I’ve laid down

my heavy-laden heart, living with the loss

of unanswered thoughts until I go searching

for something else.

Then the Light strikes and the Spirit

tugs. I reach back in the cobwebs, out of the way

underneath all the noise. And I’m found instead by

Him, stretching out his hands with answers I

need to questions I never knew were there,

where He’s been waiting all along.

Any-a-gram {a #poem}

I hate it that I am so sporadic

inconsistent, not persistent,
         no straight-ahead-in-a-line-to-the-finish.
I’m distracted, side-tracked
stops and starts, mis-matched piles,
can’t remember the whats and whens.
No perfect files, labeled loudly
      I  A M  I N  C O N T R O L.
I feign at neatness, completeness escaping me
ever in process, a mess in the making.
Oh, why can’t I be like those orderly others,
those finishers perfectly packing their lives in a box,
the rank and file, who smile
     at me, “Oh poor thing, she’s so erratic.” 
Well—
I am resigned to the wholeof me,
my hits and misses
marking a difference,
scattering joy, seeds abound.
I cannot (do not) go in a straight line—
Random A to B then on to Z.
(Sequences only happen on a test.)
And life is an actual emergency
(not a test).
I like this formula better:
A cubed to D once plus E squared
then back to A and jump to N, then
who-knows-what?
I’m the only one
who can spell my life.
——-
from my files, circa 2008. still true

January Bird {a #poem}

Where have you been?
Out of town like those who flee
our chilled clime and metallic skies?
Elsewhere, warming up your voice to
herald today’s sunrise with your song?
I welcome your morning melody
making its way to my ears,
stirring memories of other songs on
sullen, silver days when
your music was my only companion,
a balm for the emptiness at the edge
of my days.