blogging my way through the everyday

Posts tagged “Poems

There is Grace

I have to confess–God has been nothing but GOOD to me. Lately I feel as though I am living under the Divine downpour of His love and mercy. At every turn I hear His still, small voice of compassion–from the wellsprings of His goodness–bubble up from inside of me; cleansing and healing, and washing all the debris right out through my tear ducts. I think I would always like to rest in this place. Feels like grace to me…

I have found there
is grace
at the end of the day;
sweet grace
cosseting me–
tenderly
culling me;
dressing my injuries–
a poultice
drawing the weeping

healing within,
pouring clean water over
all my sin.

When faith is frayed
on grace I lay
my  weary soul.

And still I long
to know;
not just go till
the end of the day
to find there was grace
all along the way.

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Blessed

This is a cleave poem. I was first introduced to them while spending a lot of time on a writing/reviewing/critiquing site. This genre, created by Phuoc Tan-Diep, was introduced to the site by a very talented writer. I’ve since discovered that the art of combining more than one poem (I read one that had four poems in total) goes back well before cleave poetry. But, since that is how I learned it this is what it will always be to me.

I also like the ‘cleave’ concept–that each thought leans into and is dependant on the other. We are left with a tapestry of words to wonder over; woven works of art having something truly unique to ponder  depending on which way you look at them. And when you read one all together it is like taking a step back to gaze on the complete picture.

Last night I was thinking of Job, and how much better his life was after his suffering was over. God blessed the latter part of his life more than the first. Sometimes we forget that suffering will end, and that, if we are truly trusting it to a faithful heavenly Father, our lives can only be all the better for it. That’s what inspired this one.

Read it through first as one complete poem; then read each side separately. There are three distinct poems or variations of thought in this.

Blessed

If Job became                                   blessed

more than he was before                       are

the cruel arrows of                            those who

plunder wasted, should we                           mourn for

the suffering, despair? Knowing—                 they

rise up now and                                                        shall

in the end                                                     be comforted

 

 

 


This Poem Is Brought to You By the Letter S

Samantha’s Stratagem

just another Plinky Prompt (for August 1st–write a poem with each word beginning with the letter ‘s’)

“Surely she should save some,”
Sam suggested secretively;
slighty surreptitiously.
So slick she spun such subterfuge
seeking satisfaction.

She’d slink silently, stand-offishly;
solitary.

Should Sasha spill some
snacks she’d strike speedily,
snatching,
spinning slightly
sneaking somewhere safe;

spoiling supper
scarfing sweets seductively.

Sasha smiled, sweet student,
shared several sugary Snapperdoodles
selectively;
soon spending sundry
snacks seldom savoured so spiritedly;

starkly subsiding.

Silly Samantha:
some say she shouted selfishly,
some say she slithered someplace sniffling;

such strategies seldom satisfy.

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Communicable Deep Freeze

Lately, I’m back in poetry mode. 

It just happens to me out of nowhere–all I want to do is write poems and be very deep about everything.  If I don’t succumb I’ll be completely miserable, so I’m learning to go with it.

This is what came to me this week after encountering someone who seemed terribly cold.  This person’s coolness was so tangible it was chilling.

I was thinking about the way that is–that when we have a cold heart we feel somehow justified; like it’s our right.  Even if we knew how it affected those around us we wouldn’t care–we couldn’t care, really. 

Once coldness sets in, only the warmth of God’s love can deliver us–I know.

 

Communicable Deep Freeze

 A cold heart is contagious:
creeps like osmosis
through the air;
seeps like silica
into the senses,
paralysing pulsing
 arteries of faith,
cell, by steely cell.
Petrifying hope.
A numbing invasion
seizing unsuspecting souls
till every beating
heart is congealed
in the bloodlust of trust.

 


Red at Night

Last night was a sailor’s delight

spilling tipsy smiles without warning

on an unsuspecting June morning.


Dandy Day

Just tending my dandelion garden
if you have a nice lawn, I beg your pardon
weeds have a certain beauty, too
To savour–just change your point of view

 

 

 


Silly

silly cat
silent stalker of delectable delights
sitting before the refrigerator door
monk at the altar of a grudging god
beggar at the gates of the callous affluent

piously awaiting that blessed cornucopia
trove of tuna pâté and salmon Quiche
dribbles of leftover fried chicken and Alfredo sauce

silly cat
so much like me
so often sitting on the steps of sumptuous expectations
silent stalker of dreams just out of reach
sister in the habit of having the door close in my face
vagrant wandering the back roads of my own ambitions 
devoutly devoted to that blessed belief
elusive illusion that somehow
abundant fulfillment will shower me
the next time that door opens

there it will have been all along

silly