Poetry Three By Living Faith
Again Jesus spoke to them, saying,
�I am the light of the world.
Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness,
but will have the light of life.�
And now the snows have gone,
the winter chill becomes the
ides of spring.
We have survived the harsh north winds,
now we await the ground to warm, giving
birth to God's perennial buds, ah will
me the power to lay my dying memories
where they belong, and hold these easy
days as reverie of things to come, for
I am again in love with love.
Tearlets Of The Little One
A marooning mom, finds comfort in
anothers arms, forgetting her darling,
overtaken by desires.
Without further thought, gives away rights
to a babe in arms, a father who sees only
his true love, in the baby's eyes.
Years passing, an unnurtured relationship
between mother and child, looking upon her,
as the stranger, rather than mom.
Hoping to replace that loss, a loving family,
begins to comfort, but the hurt lays deep
within the heart of this unhappiness.
Feeling an imcomplete childhood, her mama's
touches were not there, a fondness for daddy
grows a tight bond, he never left her side.
Anger becomes her escape, lashing out, loved
ones pay the price, for she knows only pain.
Can the healing begin, or will this burden
follow her through life, crying, pleading for
help, oh, see the tearlets of the little one.
Portraits Of The Mind
Morning wakes so full and bright, I
strolled along the beach, but your
hand was not in mine, glanced across
a field of daisies, misty was the scent
you left behind, stroked a little bunny,
and there was your soft touch.
Reaching for the photo album we once
shared, and as I turned the pages, your
portrait seemed to look into my eyes,
and the salty tears flowed
Oh my love, why did you leave, those precious
moments now are gone, the letters all returned
to me, sealed just like I sent them.
Evanescent dreams, and misty blue skies
hover o'er my life, this love-no more,
all that reamin are portraits of the mind
and precious memories in time.
Encore, To The Dying Poet
And the scroll held endless reveries
of expression, beautifully portrayed,
the world in ah', now a shaking hand
scribbles 'cross the parchment, a
hollow mind, lost memories in time.
Tears flow, as a failing spirit weeps
for freedom of the plume, as the crumpled
paper piles, 'neath a console of wasted
effort and idea, mere imprints of nothing.
Accolade unto the poet has withered, like
roses in array of negative, will the soul
come alive, to fill the page once more,
with finespun lyric, in solemn tribute
Can the poet rise up, from the still warm
ash of discontent, create another flower,
from her soul.
My Sweet Grandaughters
Silent whispers that eve, as a
new life came into this world.
A beautiful baby girl, she was.
precious and lovely to see..
Pastel's of pink with lavender's,.
adorned her tiny body. .
Dresses with ruffles, lace.
Once so very small, now a .
gorgeous young lady..
Adored by grandma, childhood.
memories flourish, admiration.
Love is forever
Oklahoma, Made By God
We are the offspring of a great ancestory,
who headed west in dust bowl days, purely
We wonder now in times of plenty, of the
great storms, that have subsided.
Would we have been a part of this
Where mothers lost their babies on the
road, starvation took its toll, with
grizzled hand, and many never saw the
golden shores, the promised land, within
the dreams of destitute.
Look backward to your homeland, you
proud, straight immigrants, with honor,
love for family branded in your soul
.Stand tall for all to hear in one loud voice,
proclaim, I'm from Oklahoma, made by God,
and I'll guarantee, I'm here to stay.
Silence brings a day of beauty,
In the silence, the sky speaks,
with her blue hues.
In the silence, the wind speaks,
In the silence, the clouds speak,
with pure white images.
In the silence, the sun speaks,
lighting the way.
In the silence, the trees speak,
with swaying fingers.
In the silence, the birds speak,
chirping their lullabys.
In the silence, the soul speaks,
of wants and desires.
And so, ends the silent day..
Sunny shadows, images of blossoms,
sparkle in the stream, a quiet little
shanty, awaits the dreamer, with a
lighted pass of imaginations.
Hiding in the graze, a beautiful
secluded tier, creating fantacies
of romantic interims, waltzing
mindfully in the heart.
As the cool peaceful river, trickles
abrest, endless reveries, once again
thru treasured paths, vistas begin to
vanish, reality returns.
Utopian dreams, carress the soul,
inspiring amorous emotions, scant
reflections of joyful youth, enliven
the spirit anew.
The Essence Of Seasons Amorous Notion
The stars have spoken
And so have you and I
So thus new life begins
Sweet aromas fill the air
In the shadows emotions stir
Love speaks in tender tones
Your words spark my being
Wild nights were I with thee
I can feel your soft lips
Warm breath upon my face
Fingers carressing my body
As we are flesh to flesh
I think of you each morning
Dream of you each night
Tantalizing smiles wake me
Like a roses new bloom
For I know one day soon
You will be mine to have
Hold and Love for all time.
Concert Under Glass
A north wind blows beneath the setting sun, wisping
the days memories away, rose petals have fallen, the
mind reaches to touch the velvet tips, honeysuckles
whisper aromas in melody.
Across the way, a soft warm glow from the oak logs
burning, brings an aire of plesantry to the room, as the
violin plays softly, enhancing the chanting Italian
love songs, capturing the soul.
And the trees sway in rthymn, as the symphony
continues, caressing the heart in number, we turn
to slumber and dreams silently echo the silvery
tones that have touched our inner beings.
Waking to a dazzling day, the leaves sway in
colorful bliss, a peaceful, glowing morning.
A natural, perfect time for pondering, quiet
moments with mind and soul.
Yet thoughts are no comfort, for we see the world
face to face, a generation of unsightly behaviour.
Sex, profanity and close to nudeness welcomes our earth
today, body piercing and tatooing the newest trend.
It seems as if God is non-existant, we can only pray
that our own do not succumb to these modern ways.
Nothing is sacred, nothing is bad, no thought for today,
no thought for the future, only utter decay.
Wandering from the truth, wandering from God, the
world stands against us, our battle is alone.
Sand Castles In The Sky
Beautiful colors of life, captured by the artist,
with soft strokes across the canvas, detailed
with the finest threads of gold.
As if the brillant blue sky embraces my every
being, peace and tranquility fill my soul with song.
And atop the grassy hills, the misty air engulfs
my every breath, as I sup this splender.
Like a child building sandcastles in the sky, I sit
in silence and ponder new found hopes and dreams,
of this magical yonder still.
Visions of utopia 'cross my mind, caressing my
heart with joyful romantic emotions, to enliven
this spirit anew.
His Abundant Grace
God gave a very special gift,
that all can clearly see, the
reason it's so special, God
sent His Son, to set us free.
Upon a lonely hill,
nailed to an old rugged cross,
Jesus lovingly shed His blood,
that day on Calvary's tree.
And within the setting,
and the rising sun, you
can truly see, all glory
in God's Son.
If you are ever lonely, or
feeling a little blue, you
only need whisper a prayer,
to know He's there with you.
And if you keep Him in your heart,
joy will overflow your soul,
for in His infinate mercy and grace,
He cares for and comforts His own.
May the Lord richly bless you!
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