Runaway Child

Strolling through the gardens
of my mind
with too much time to think,
listening to those songs
that pierce the heart, still,
in ways that only music can.

To – do lists on pretty paper
sit, curled at the edges
poetry flowing through the veins,
tv just static in the background,
rhetoric and politics introduce fear
until the noise gets too much,
sigh,
then, I slip away

back to welcoming arms I left
like a runaway child
returning home.

.
Day 21 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)

Echoes

There’s a stillness in the atmosphere
fading blue when winds carry ache;
breaths held because we cannot
touch.
I sing my joy.
It echoes
from my heart to yours
when love bridges distance,

press in to words
like fingers on strings
of a well tuned instrument,
serenade them

until this all plays out.

.

.

I Hear You Calling

A trail of stars I followed
stepping into your presence,
I hear you calling
for words,
a few syllables
to demonstrate my love,
but, I could never find
the right adjectives
to express this burning
in my heart;
enough gratitude
for the gift of your mercy
for a simple transgressor
waiting in anticipation,

for, beyond this darkness
there must be a light.

.

I am writing a poem a day from November 28, 2019 through December 25, 2019 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day 16..This is my 4th year of doing this series and I feel so blessed!❤️

Pinning Prayers to the Clothesline

I was still awake in the morning,
hanging clothes in my quiet time,
sips of coffee, eyes closed,
loving what I could not see.

Prayers were allowed in the breeze
each pin, a wish for serenity;
a plea, for peace
in adversity.

and in the evening,
when I took them down,
pansies smiling pink
upturned towards the light,
the warmth on my face
gave me pause
and a moment to hope
when the basket was full.

Soul Deep

Beneath the smile, thin skin and marrow
is a compilation of rejected manuscripts,
thoughtless words that scorch the insides
and years of scar tissue,
soul deep;

gashes that won’t show up in an x ray.

There is a battle we cannot see;
darts that spiral out of control
leaving pinpricks
to let the light in,

-warring-
until we land on our knees
in days of awe,

surrendering
to a newfound humility.

Love Letter #85: Old Flame

You entered in
through a crack in the door;
warm, like sun;
dust of stars in your hand-
scent of petals fill the room,
lingering

like the love of an old flame;
embers glistening in my tresses.

You give me solace
when ties are severed,
steadiness when I slip;
let me shine, in your light
when the world is dim.

You say, come
when I am left, alone
wild as the flowers you planted,
red as your love.

~
~Penning a poem a day from today November 22 through December 25th, 2018 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day 10

Love Letter #79: Stowaway

As I looked across the table at him,
my soul, a two way mirror-
heart dissected, chastised
like love often is,
deflated, misunderstood
like the rhythm
of crashing cymbals
in a poet’s head at 3:00 am.

Everything seems dark these days
fists raging against the wind,
teeth clenched.
He runs beside the train,
she drops her backpack to her feet,
relaxes her face muscles;
exhales.

We still flow like a river,
soft, steady ripples
like my skin
in the wake of his fingers.

Beatitudes II: Grace

Determined to move mountains,
a miniscule thought was fed;
a manuscript created
from a story in your head.

A beautiful wildflower,
once called a simple weed,
sprouted up from only
a tiny mustard seed.

Love; the powerful weapon
that tears down the highest wall
cracks open the hardest hearts
lends softness to the fall.

flowers from weeds, they blossom
born from amazing grace
in a potter’s hands, molded, shaped,
and displayed in a shiny new vase.

On a Friday

You come to me
in the scent of wildflowers,
dancing beneath my feet,
in hues of cerulean
and magenta,

tickling senses,
permeating breezes;

these pages turning, faster
than fingers can find the words,
reverberating,

like strings of a lyre.

I listen to the sound of wings;
leaves of tree branches
sway and bend, bend and sway

to music I haven’t heard yet.

I chase your heart
down a petaled path;

light calling me home.

~

Love Letter #67: Taking Note

He doesn’t see the imperfections
the brokenness that weeps
at 3:00 AM,

disrupting his sleep.

He kisses away drops of sorrow;
carries my burdens on his back,

gazes into these pools
of blue-green confusion,
and smiles

taking note of every blink,
every movement
that tugs him closer
to my heart.

~
~
Day 22 of NaPoMo 2018… a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month…. Due to the miracles my family has received this year, I dedicate my poem each day to the one who is the reason for them. I made a promise I intend to keep ❤

Lost and Found

I found you beside the honeysuckle bush,
shining upon my childhood summers,

felt you in the wake of nightmares,
gentling my heartbeat, encompassed
by the warmth of you,
of your presence;

shadow in the mirror,
recipient of my prayers,
you trace my footsteps,

even now,

when the walk is long
and the road, unpaved.

~
Day 14 of NaPoMo 2018… a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month…. Due to the miracles my family has received this year, I dedicate my poem each day to the one who is the reason for them

For A Season

I.
Bolts of white December
and a shaking comes
in the midst of my sleep;
senses tumble
like uncertain weeds sway;

change is inevitable.

II.
Colors, they fall upon me-
purple covers pain;
weeping vulnerability
and a fragile pink blessing
wrapped in a blue blanket;
of soft beats and faith.

III.
April blows in
like dandelions do.
and you sit back, watching
our season unfold,
minds bloom open
close, and open again
like umbrellas when it rains.

~
For NaPoMo Day 1

Due to the miracles my family and I have seen so far in 2018, this year, I will dedicate my “poem a day in April”to the one who is responsible…