Bliss

Keep your bliss, 

your false, selfish bliss. 

Keep your eyes closed

and your ears covered and

your heart hardened like concrete.

Reality isn't changed by your ignorance.

It continues.

On and on.

Spiraling. 

Reality. 

Trees that fall?

They make noise. 

Even when you are ignorant

of their painful, thundering crash.

Reality. 

Why I Love Thunderstorms:

Photo of lightening over Magician Lake, in MI. Taken by Ruth Irons

In his old age, king David reflected on how God had rescued him time and time again, and he used the imagery of a thunderstorm to try to explain how God heard his prayers and came to save him, stopping at nothing.

 There are so many things I appreciate about this poem (while the whole passage is a favorite, I underlined parts that stick out to me), but I particularly appreciate how, now, every thunderstorm I experience is a reminder of God's concern, power, and determination to rescue me (us).

It's recorded both in 2 Samuel and in Psalms (with slight variations).
Below is the one from 2 Samuel. It's chapter 22 and verses 7-20 to be precise.

In my distress I called upon the LORD;

to my God I called. 

From his temple he heard my voice, 

and my cry came to his ears. 

Then the earth reeled and rocked;

the foundations of the heavens trembled

and quaked, because he was angry. 

Smoke went up from his nostrils, 

and devouring fire from his mouth;

glowing coals flamed forth from him. 

He bowed the heavens and came down;

thick darkness was under his feet. 

He rode on a cherub and flew;

he was seen on the wings of the wind. 

He made darkness around him his canopy, 

thick clouds, a gathering of water. 

Out of the brightness before him

coals of fire flamed forth. 

The LORD thundered from heaven,

and the Most High uttered his voice. 

And he sent out arrows and scattered them;

lightning, and routed them.

Then the channels of the sea were seen;

the foundations of the world were laid bare,

at the rebuke of the LORD, 

at the blast of the breath of his nostrils. 

He sent from on high, he took me;

he drew me out of many waters.

He rescued me from my strong enemy,

from those who hated me, 

for they were too mighty for me.

They confronted me in the day of my calamity,

but the LORD was my support.

He brought me out into a broad place;

he rescued me, because he delighted in me. 

Gossip in the Park

by Nicole DeVries

Our friendship had a chance that spring
as we walked in the park and shared everything.
Two friends in the park comparing thoughts and life,
sharing ideas and problems, joys and strife.


By the time summer came, we knew each other well,
and there were few comfortable things left to tell.
So, we took the easy escape and became common babblers,
by quickly filling the space and talking about Others.


Always careless, often selfish, were our thoughtless remarks,
every word was soaked up by the hushed, empty park.
Fall came and changed colors, but our whispers stayed the same.
And so we walked, and so we talked, and so we bared every triumph and shame.


We looked forward, each walk, to hearing and sharing
what others were doing, saying and wearing.
It was good and securing to affirm our beliefs,
but the base satisfaction was shockingly brief.


Each word that tore down our view of friends
was like the harsh, bracing, tearing, autumn winds.
The trees became bare; colorless and empty,
just as our talks became predictable and airy.


By the time the winter drifts covered the trees' thick, coarse bark,
whatever had started this friendship had faded to dark
and we no longer walked and talked in the park.

Don't Get Distracted

especially when you know better.
you never know what will happen.

Acrostic

Psalm 111 is an Acrostic poem, which means the first word of each line starts with the next letter of the alphabet.

And this morning I was in a poetry mood, so I wrote an Acrostic poem and decided to share it with you:

Almighty God
Blessed be your name.
Continually I seek you,
Determined to bring you praise.
Every morning I rise in worship
Fervantly bring my prayers before you.
God, make yourself known to m:
However long I must wait for you
I am willing
Just give me assurance of the answer to my prayer.
Keep me close to you,
Let me wander not far, or
Meander steadily away.
No, instead give me an
Obsessive
Passion to
Quiet my soul before you,
Rest in your presence,
Search your heart, and
Tediously work to live by your Spirit
Until the day I come home to you.
Victorious, God, your
Warriors are victorious over sin, in your Name.
eXpelling sin from their lives and working to bring
Your kingdom to Earth.
Zealous are we, for you.

motivation

my mind races
     my heart rejoices
          I'm eager to see this work
it could work
     really- it could!
          and it would be wonderful
                and life would be better
but I forget about it
     later that week
          or later that day
                or later that hour
and its lost.
     and now it wont work.
          because I never gave it a chance.

not so simple

you've got it figured out!
     it all makes sense
          you understand!

and then in a heart beat
     in horror
          you realize
               you don't

RePost

This poem is by J. M. Roberts, over at AgapeFish


Up or Down


Falling
Can be fun
Falling
Is free and easy
But falling
Leads to landing
Crashing
Which hurts.
Falling
Isn’t good
But landing
Is worse

Climbing
Is hard
Climbing
Takes a lot of work
But climbing
Leads to the top
To rest
Which is good
Climbing
Is not easy
But in the end
It is better

Than crashing
Landing
Falling
Falling is scary
Climbing is too
Because we know we might fall
And falling
Is easier than climbing

Which is better?
That which is easy
That which is hard
We cannot escape
One or the other
Climbing, Falling
Pain and sweat
Falling, Climbing
Living
Where do you want to be in the end?

"I'll Wait For You"

Picture Poem

Most of these pictures have been edited on new software I downloaded. But, not all of them. Some of them just turned out spectacularly.

Morning comes. Gently at first.

But then the sun shines full.

Flowers are growing, 

their beauty is showing

Shooting up overnight.

Even among last year's dead

Even out of past hurt
Every spring
consistently

Not only new flowers
But animals, too
Little birds
Small and new

Even the trees have begun to bud
Some tiny and brown-green
Some large and vibrant red

All reminders
That we can start anew
Start afresh
Start
From our mistakes and hurts
But, we, like them, need Help.

(untitled)

here is a poem sort of thing:

sitting here in silence waiting for class to begin.
Meetings in a corner room, loud suggestions being made.
Student on her laptop typing, typing away.
Professors stride down the hallway from one place to another.
 There are enough noises to scare away silence,
but still too few to merit anything but
whispered conversations.

and another:

Cold dreary day.
snowflakes falling in giant soft clumps.
softly
quietly
minding their own business
muffling noises nearby.

A day worthy of 'sound of music' replays in my mind,
A day worthy of tea, and hot chocolate,
A day worthy of hats and mittens.
A day worthy of
A good book,
A good chat,
and a good nap.

A Piansit

by Marie DeVries
January 2011

A Pianist

she warily tests the keys

to the song she does adore

her first mistake she sees

the first of many more

learning notes and patterns with ease

again and again she tries

hours fly by like a breeze  

she feels the strain in her eyes

after a day or two

most of the song is learnt

though there is still much to do

and her fingers have begun to hurt

she attempts it one more time

presses a wrong note accidently

and, as if it were a crime,

she gently slams the keys

it's still not exactly perfect

but she'll soon have it right

and then she'll play it like an addict

her joyful eye full of light

Stars

by Sara Teasdale

Alone in the night

On a dark hill

With pines around me Spicy and still,

And a heaven full of stars

Over my head, 

White and topaz

And misty red; 

Myriads with beating 

Hearts of fire

That aeons 

Cannot vex or tire;

Up the dome of heaven

Like a great hill, 

I watch them marching

Stately and still,

And I know that I 

Am honored to be 

Witness

Of so much majesty.

The Library

The Library

Barbara A. Huff

It looks like any building

When you pass it on the street,

Made of stone and glass and marble,

Made of iron and concrete.

But once inside you can ride

A camel or a train,

Visit Rom, Siam, or Nome

Feel a hurricane,

Meet a king, learn to sing,

How to bake a pie,

Go to sea, plant a tree,

Find how airplanes fly,

Train a horse, and of course,

Have all the dogs you'd like,

See the moon, a sandy dune,

Or catch a whopping pike.

Everything that books can bring

You'll find inside those walls.

A world is there for you to share

When adventure calls.

You cannot tell its magic

By the way the building looks,

But there's wonderment within it,

The wonderment of books.