Category: Poetry

Perfect Peace

Is perfect peace found…

In a cloudless sky?

Or could it exist in a hurricane’s eye?

Can it be perceived in the dark of night?

Or better displayed by candlelight?

Is peace our reward, when all work is done?

A prize for the victor, when conflict is won?

A mother feels peace as her child drifts to sleep.

A sailor knows peace where the waters are deep.

The teacher can’t wait ’till the final bell rings.

The hiker knows peace when the morning birds sing.

The judge proclaims peace when the last word is said.

The waitress will say it’s when everyone’s fed.

The busy store clerk awaits Christmas Eve.

A harried host smiles after everyone leaves.

Perfect peace

Strivings cease

Kept by those

whose trust grows

in the Rock of Ages.

A Tiffany Window

Poetry inspired by art.

Earth fused with fire

minerals blend

amethyst stained

atoms suspend

colorful glass

fruit of the flame

carved into pieces

placed in a frame

blended together

images rise

fruit of the harvest

feast for the eyes

light opalescent

dispels the night

spirit awakens

dullness takes flight.

* My featured image is part of the Louis Comfort Tiffany collection at the Morse Museum of Winter Park, Florida. The museum is hosting an open house Thanksgiving weekend with free admission. Click here to read more about the history of stained glass.

Dear readers, this week is a time to count our blessings instead of calories. Thank you for following my blog. Happy Thanksgiving!

Fallen Leaves

When I bend low in autumn

to gather fallen leaves

Each one holds a memory

I’m longing to retrieve.

My childhood home before me,

the window up above,

where I beheld each season

the maple tree I loved.

Mother was a gardner

raising corn for harvest.

Father was a builder

with wood and brick an artist.

We children ruled a kingdom

in summer we would seek

to exercise our power

over crawdads in the creek.

The golden leaves speak clearly

of fireflies in jars.

Dreaming by the campfire

and watching shooting stars.

Then the leaves fall silent.

Their voices disappear

Now rise as word on paper

to speak in later years.

Signs and Wonders

A poem about following God.

If I were a Hebrew

enslaved by Pharoah’s reign,

would I follow Moses

or labor just the same?

Oh, the great achievements,

our works of brick and stone,

traded for a lowly tent

in landscape so unknown.

Would I trade the coolness

of shade along the Nile,

for the sizzling desert

extending out for miles?

Would I question Moses

as I packed unleavened bread,

take along my animals

unless they could be fed?

Would I flee from Egypt

in the dark of night,

awaken all my children

before the morning light?

Would the signs and wonders,

the sacrificial lamb,

ease my hesitation

to trust the great I AM?

Have you ever felt like you were on a journey through new territory?

I imagine that’s the way the Hebrews felt when they decided to follow Moses out of Egypt. Passover marked their exodus from slavery.

But what if the Hebrews felt comfortable as slaves? After all the book of Exodus states that they lived in Egypt for 430 years. (Exodus 12:40) Slavery was familiar, freedom was not. What if God didn’t provide for them in the wilderness?

Following God usually leads us out of our comfort zones into new territory. I’m fascinated by the miraculous way God protected and provided for his people. He divided the water of the Red Sea so they could cross on dry ground and escape the Egyptians. He sent a cloud by day and fire by night to lead his people through the desert. He gave them manna and quail to eat. The wilderness tested their faith in God. Those who continued to trust and obey him were admitted to the promised land.

Are you afraid to follow God’s leading? Do you desire familiarity and comfort instead of the unknown? Following God is not always easy or popular. This week marks three special holidays, Passover, Good Friday, and Easter. I hope my poem inspires you to reflect upon your faith and relationship with God. Let go of the past and trust him to lead you out of doubt and fear. He will never leave you or forsake you. You may not witness miraculous signs and wonders, but you can know the peace of his presence.

My poem Signs and Wonders first appeared in the Spring 2015 issue of Time of Singing.

To read another of my favorite poems click here The Secret of the Cereus.

Rain Song

Take a poetry break.

The rain continues its steady rhythm.

A musical pattern arranged by God.

Not concerned where or when it falls

Every drop completes its part

in a cycle of simple obedience

bringing life to earth.

My thoughts abound with little effort.

Where one thought ends another begins.

Like raindrops

descending to a final destination

Ultimately voiced in the garden of self-expression.

Bringing meaning to a blank page.

Friends,

The past month has been a whirlwind of activity for me, as I’ve involved myself in the promotion of my first book. Today I felt like taking time out and getting back to my roots. Returning to poetry helps me get in touch with the joy of creativity. It’s a wonderful feeling to just write.

I hope spring affords you the time to refresh your spirit.

The Lunch Box

Cobwebs brushed across my face

As I cracked the cellar door

Hiding somewhere in this place

My childhood past was stored.

There upon a table

Sat a white box brown with rust.

The letters on its label

Spelled my name beneath the dust.

This was the lunch box I loathed,

Ashamed to carry each day.

Its trim of flowers and bows,

Couldn’t hide what it conveyed.

I was a girl of humble means

Whose parents were simple and poor.

School-bought lunch, a luxury,

That I could never afford.

The box now empty, thermos gone

Scenes of my childhood arose

Mother rising before the dawn

To warm my soup on the stove.

I know my parents worked so hard

And gave all they could to me.

This homely box, I can’t discard

Stored deep like the memories.

Valentine’s Day usually brings with it sentiments about love. I decided to share “The Lunch Box” this week because it expresses my feelings about my parents, my past, and how something so ugly and despised, could change into something beautiful. I still have my Junior Miss lunch box from 1960. Of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

I keep my old lunch box because it reminds me that no matter how ugly I might feel, I am loved by God and beautiful in his sight. By the way, God feels the same about you!

Happy Valentine’s Day! Do you keep any relics from your childhood? Leave a comment.

Finding Refuge

Barren boughs scrape against the cloudy sky.

Lonely limbs ache for summer days gone by.

Little birds peck the frozen field for grains.

Day after day the chilly air remains.

Tiny mice huddle in lifeless leaves below.

Sleeping lilies lay in beds concealed by snow.

Hungry deer strip the brittle bark from trees.

Kindly ants share their tunnels with queen bees.

Home provides a refuge from winter’s icy grip

Gathered ’round the table in sweet companionship.

In my process of evaluating the recent frigid temperatures I can only think of one good thing about winter. I like the feeling of coming in from the cold and warming up with hot tea or cocoa. My husband and I moved our family to Florida in 1989 to escape Ohio winters.

Everyone says a person’s blood thins after they live in Florida for a number of years. For us, fifty degree temperatures are practically unbearable. My northern friends shake their heads and remark, “you don’t remember what cold is.”

Do you like winter? Some people do. Leave a comment and let me know your views on the subject. Maybe you can change my opinion.