The usual off key voices
sang the classic melody to honor my birth
Burning candles
dripped wax on swirls of vanilla frosting
Panic stricken,
what should I wish?
For an encore allowing more time to think?
Or perhaps more time to live?
I inhaled until the pressure forced me…
to let go
When I allow myself
the time
I pick up
the broken pieces of my dreams
and put them together
in lines of poetry.
Then I feel free
because nothing else matters
writing for the sake of writing
with no agenda in mind.
There’s something to be said for writers
Who never forget who they are
who celebrate the gift God has given them
and give thanks.
You are there…
when I don’t know where to turn
Amid the confusion and despair,
you are there, my friend.
If my plans are thwarted
and success seems as distant as the furthest galaxy,
you remain in control—steadfast as the rock of ages
nothing shakes you.
If the stars I wish upon tumble into the sea
their vacancy leaves room for you
to extend your hand and say…
“This is the way, walk in it.”
So I place my hand in yours
and know…
Your conclusion is so much better than any I could write.
Hold the shell to your ear.
You can hear the sound of the surf
Echo deep within.
Something lived here once.
It moved out
Having outgrown the small dwelling.
It moved on
In search of breathing room.
No one knows where it lives now.
Someone lived here once.
The pencil lines on the bedroom wall
Show the heights of a child
Through the years.
She moved out
Having outgrown the confines of this space.
She moved on
In search of breathing room.
And I hope someone knows
Where she is now.
Nudged out of my comfort zone
I open one eye,
turn my head
and wonder,
what just happened?
Beneath my plump bottom
something stirred my nest
calling me out of my cozy cradle to arise.
Standing on two feet
I see the great emptiness
where I have never gone.
My Father directs me to stretch my wings.
Then comes the push!
I flap and flutter through space
gasping with surprise when
I plummet.
Soon I hear the brush of his pinions.
My Father is near.
He swoops down
catches me on his wings
and carries me until I’m ready
to fly again.
This poem was inspired by Deuteronomy 32:11. Like an eagle with its young, we can count on the Holy Spirit to call us out of our comfort zone in order to accomplish God’s will. Yet, our heavenly Father does not leave us alone. He carries us when we feel weary or inadequate for the task.
Like tourists,
we park the car at the side of the road
and hop out for a quick photo.
Before us,
A palisade of pines frame the pond,
and like an impressionist painting,
blurry images shimmer across the water’s surface.
Behind the blades
scattered amid wide green lilly-pads,
pink buds wait for the morning sun to wake them,
commencing the grand opening
when they share their glory
with a wandering soul.
Above the drone of hidden arthropods.
a bob-white announces, “I’m here.”
During the next several minutes,
each flower changes from pink to white
and I rejoice
to be here, too.
We visited Reflection Pond on a camping trip at Ochlockonee River State Park located near Sopchoppy, Florida. A quick photo stop turned into a half-hour visit as Herb and I a watched a water lily open. Reflection pond is aptly named. Time seemed to stand still as we pondered the beauty of the scene. I felt like we had witnessed something special.
More about water lilies:
Thank you for reading my post. An earlier post entitled Being expresses a similar theme of living in the moment in the Florida Keys. Nature has much to offer if we slow down and take notice of our surroundings. May your summer be blessed with special moments outdoors.
Everyone has dreams. How many of your dreams have become reality?
Five years ago I started writing this blog. Initially, I wanted to encourage people to pursue their creativity. I started as the Poet on Blueberry Street on April 1, 2016. My first post was very short. I really didn’t know what I was doing or where this blog would take me.
So it goes with creativity. One step leads to another and before you know it five years have passed. I have published one hundred sixty-two entries since 2016. Some of you may have followed me since the beginning. We have shared the ups and downs of camping in Florida, adventures in gardening, and of course who could forget the pandemic?
Throughout it all I’ve weaved my love for poetry, reading, and writing. Today I looked back at some of my favorite poetry posts. In case you missed them, or would like to revisit, click on these links.
If Trees Could Talk and Other Poems (2017)
Poetry a Message in a Bottle (2018)
Ode to the Spotted Bananas (2020)
I realize I am not a blogger who keeps a specific schedule. I tend to hit the keys when I feel inspired. Creativity cannot be forced, but it can be furthered by allowing ourselves to “be in the zone.” I am thankful for this opportunity to express myself without an editor looking over my shoulder.
In the process of writing this post I discovered a website called DayZero. I was surprised to learn the world’s most popular goals include writing a blog, losing weight, and writing a book. Interesting. How blessed I am to accomplish two of those goals. (Remember, I like to eat bread.)
Whatever your goals, I leave you with this quote from Darren Hardy.
“Starting is not most people’s problem. Staying, continuing, and finishing is.”
In the words of Buddy the Beagle…. never give up.
Arise my barren cypress
Lift your branches high
winter days of darkness
Are now in short supply.
You endured the many trials
Which robbed you of your cheer
Stripped of all your beauty,
you’ve aged another year.
Time will soon restore
the lushness of your leaves
to dance above the riverbank
with every summer breeze.
Arise my barren cypress
Your future is not grim
For countless tiny buds
slumber on each limb.
Dear Readers, A quiet walk in nature often brings encouragement and inspiration to my heart. I have taken many photos of cypress trees, but I did not see the beauty of a barren tree until today. I was reminded that faith is being certain of what we do not see. (Hebrews 11:1)
Wet flurries drift downward
commanded by the pull
of unyielding earth
intercepted
the lacy flakes can go no farther.
In quiet submission
snowfall blankets each backyard
painting the world a wintry white.
Giggles break the silence.
The spotless snow…
trampled and squeezed,
rolled into a boulder—commissioned to support a body
pierced with two sticks
each limb raised skyward to flag down help.
Nearing completion, the frozen man
tries to ‘keep his head’ in this desperate situation.
There, above the false smile and carrot nose,
two pleading eyes
look for the sun’s redemption
and the day when all things become new.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading my blog this year. I wish you all a happy and healthy 2021. A new year when we finally escape the captivity of the Coronavirus pandemic. In many ways, I am like the snowman in this poem. Held captive by forces beyond my control. I look to Jesus for redemption and the day when we will all be free.
Behold the primeval forest
enduring the tests of time
sheltered under towering oaks
Life survives.
Defended by vast armies
of raised palmetto swords
shielded by a green stockade
Life grows.
A confident lantana
performs a solo act
arrayed in pink and yellow
Life creates.
As if on cue, a butterfly
flutters across the scene
to sip the sweet fresh nectar
Life thrives.
Lacy ferns sing anthems
in time with steady rain
in praise of the lone lantana,
Life rejoices.
debbieburton.blog 