Early I wake and slowly stumble out the door,
weary feet on battered pavement,
– sadly not batter for pancakes,
too early –
but what is that to me? I look up
with joy, almost hesitating – and see
the half moon shining brilliantly in the sky,
a witness towering in heavens far
to God who placed it there.
My heart is not worthy of such joy –
pain is far more apropos –
but worthiness is not why I rise each morn,
Abba Father
near to me
I cry.
Tag: poem
Dripping
Cold now I shiver,
work calls my name and I sip
peppermint mocha.
Upraised
A girl sits prettily on a bench,
dwelling on all that has come before,
and as she ponders
and she wonders
what all these tears
are truly worth,
so she wanders
down the lane of
fading memories,
sweet as honey-
and wistful sighs
the willow blossoms
that open yearning to the brilliant sun-
memories now fade,
the road goes on,
so she wanders
towards that true worth
for all these tears
now she wonders
and so she ponders,
heart a burning for what has come before.
And yea-
A girl sits upon a bench.
(Going to touch this up later…no time now -homeward bound. Pardon the rawness)
Hello Hurricane
A little more coffee sounds lovely, please.
Just tear yourself away from that book you’re reading
Give me another chance, darling, and just lean in,
And tell me, won’t you, that you love me, please?
Traveler
Grey skies and white flakes of snow and wind billowing in indifferent harmonies
Pole strikes upon the hard-packed snow and soon enough the heavens part
Blue dazzling, triumphant, brilliantly defiant
And the sky cavernous beckons.
Strange Seasons
Of courtship sweet, of tongues and eyes
and varied things
Of dancing feet, of sashes, skirts
and sundry things.
Of dancing eyes, of cups of coffee
that she brings.
What more can I say to her this night, I pray?
What more can be prayed by me this day, I say?
I say.
I say.
I pray.
I daresay.
Of life so sweet, of lips and songs
that she sings.
What more do I say?
I rejoice this night and laugh this day.
I dance upon the moor and I pray.
I pray.
Raise a Glass
Hello my friends, and happy Tuesday! I am in work early today, trying to get some things done before the office fills up. So right now it is quite quiet here and I thought I’d at least take the chance to write a few words here…
A tattered flag waves in the salt fragrant wind, all its faded colours on display,
And I sigh and ask myself if it is enough to merely stand strong and silent
Or shall I pour myself another cup of coffee and begin to have my say?
I think both options are fairly equal, although words serve just to draw out the pain
And at the end of all things, I confess my heart is burdened and oh so weary
Still I trust God and look to that far country as I stand amidst the pouring rain.
So Neatly Written
Hello, dear friends, and happy Friday! I sit at my desk at work, minutes before the clock ticks over to working time, but I couldn’t resist just saying hello. I’m drinking my peppermint mocha and pondering deep thoughts, like say…what shall I do this weekend? Actually, I’m a bit stunned – I’m going to be in Houston all weekend, a shocking development! Been traveling so much lately, it shall really be quite nice to be at home and get some proper rest. But for now, one more day of work, so no rest for me(yet!). Have a most blessed and wondrous day, my friends.
Fingers drumming on the tabletop,
coffee mugs littering the counter,
clamorous chatting fills the kitchen,
Something comforting, this home sweet home.
Penstroke
A morning where a
darkness reigns throughout the land
and yet there is a wind that blows,
a return of sweetness and decency
mayhaps.
A morning where a
bowl of oatmeal upon worn table sits
and brown sugar swirls in dreamy paths,
a return to first love and hopes fairest
maybe.
A morning where a
moonlit herald sings in quiet wonder
and I hear a call to that far country,
a return to truest tales of yore
perhaps.
First Blush
A mount untraveled,
a tree not blooming,
a flag yet unfurled,
and the sweet colour
of the pale of dawn.
I look upon a crescent moon
and I sigh
in unbridled wonder
that there could be such
beauty.
And behold
tulips blossoming in purest white,
stars singing sweet and strong in dazzling night,
fields of wheat rippling in warm sunlight,
that music bliss and those blue eyes bright
oh behold!
Beauty
that there could be such
in unbridled joy now
and I sigh –
I look upon a waxing moon.
The path is winding through the wild moors,
The trees stand tall and kiss their brethren,
And upon the terrace of brick and stone,
look and behold the aching sweetness –
oh the tale of dawn.
