The Happy Wordcrafter
Please, won’t you come along with me
Up river in the fall?
We’ll float at leisure, passing woodlands
Burnished, thick, and tall.
We’ll watch thick clouds give way to sun
That breaks horizon’s crest
And choose a course that guarantees
Delightful Autumn Rest.
~~~
photo courtesy of Larisa Koshkina @ pixabay.com
I’m tired
Of summer heat.
I say this ev’ry year:
Fall is the only perfect time
Of year.
Autumn
Is close now.
I hear the crickets sing.
And leaves are falling one by one.
Can’t wait.
Seasons
Come and go.
And I appreciate
All of them, but none so much as
Autumn.
Thanks so much to my wonderful friend, photographer Terry Valley, for this amazing Autumn picture.
~~~
I want to step out in adventure,
But each time the first step draws near,
Before I can start to move forward,
I’ve run, face-to-face, into fear.
I long to get out of my humdrum
And into new elements wade,
But just when I find my direction,
I realize I am afraid.
What am I to do with myself then?
I have no solution in mind.
I look at the fear, and I dither,
Which means that I get left behind.
Perhaps, I’m not meant for adventure,
And everyday life it must be.
Oh, that would be such disappointment;
From humdrum I’d never be free.
No, I must be stern with my psyche
When my knees start to tremble and sway.
Courage is not being fearless.
It’s taking the plunge anyway.
~~~~~
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I haven’t written any cinquain in several months. That’s not like me at all, so I decided I’d remedy that situation today and write two.
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This poem is part of my “Color Me Happy” series on my poetry site. I thought readers here might enjoy it as well.
And why should you choose such a color, you ask?
Because when we choose in pink’s color to bask,
We’re cuddled and coddled in this pleasant shade.
It pampers and pets us and makes our hearts glad.
God, in His infinite wisdom did choose
Pink as a color important to use
When bringing the dawn of a new day alive
And when setting the sun to usher in night.
There’s something quite primal in pink I have found —
Something so elemental it’s almost profound.
We respond as if there’s an umbilical link.
So whatever the problem — to fix it, think pink.
My mother was a poet, and a great inspiration to me, both as a writer and as a woman. On this Mother’s Day, I can’t help but think again how grateful I am for her legacy.
A Poet Must Do What a Poet Must Do
I’m not ready for NaPoWriMo.
I should create some kind of verse.
And I’d better get onto it pronto:
It’s already April the first.
A poem with some kind of meaning
Is not always easy to write.
So I’ll just have to settle for something
That’s simple, perhaps even trite.
A jingle with sing-songy wording,
A love poem packed with cliches,
A limerick rolling with laughter —
One a day for the next thirty days!
Well, I can’t sit here just ruminating.
I’m a poet, and my duty’s clear:
NaPoWriMo has issued the challenge,
So I’ll start with this poem right here.
For the sake of full disclosure, I will say right now that I do not have any plans to write a new poem every day during the month of April. My work schedule will simply not allow for that amount of added writing this month. But I was feeling giddy about 1:00 this morning, and I figured I’d at least write one little ditty to kick off NaPoWriMo, 2019.
Nathaniel’s Answer
Nathaniel was a man who knew no guile.
He walked with Jesus, loved Him all the while.
When first he heard His name, a question posed
But waited ’til the answer was disclosed.
“From Nazareth can any good come forth?”
He asked of those who knew that city’s worth.
He asked for meditation, not reply,
Yet found the answer true in Jesus’ eyes.
And although from the garden he did run
With others as they scattered one by one,
As Roman guards led Jesus, bound, away,
There came a reckoning after the third day.
As Mary ran to spread the glorious news,
Nathaniel, hidd’n with others, all confused,
Received her words with doubt, and hope, and fear,
And hungered so His Master’s voice to hear.
Then Jesus stood among them, His work done:
Salvation for the world from Nazareth comes.
Seized and stripped and slapped and spit upon,
SACRIFICE
A crown,
A diadem,
A shackle placed upon the brow.
Bestowed
Contemptuously,
And scarlet robe on shoulders bowed.
The grief,
The agony,
The tortuous, mutilating pain.
All born
By Innocence
To give me peace and health again.
A cross,
On Calvary:
To execute the Father’s plan.
A tomb,
Now empty stands:
He’s paid the price for every man.
Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. A few years ago I wrote 7 poems during Holy Week — or Passion Week — leading up to Easter Sunday. This year in commemoration of our Lord’s suffer, I’m going to repost those poems on each Wednesday in Lent — and then post the last of the 7 on Easter Sunday. I hope they bless you and inspire you to gratefully meditate on how our Lord Jesus suffered for our sins and in our place to work our total redemption and salvation.
BARABBAS
My heart pounded
As they dragged me out.
They stood me close beside Him,
And I looked about.
The crowd was frenzied:
With rage and raw disgust.
I wasn’t sure the real cause–
Why they fumed and cussed.
I glanced beside me
To catch a glimpse of Him,
But what my eyes saw in His
Convicted me within.
When guards shouted,
“Who is it going to be?”
Then I understood they’d choose
To set one free.
“Free Barabbas!
Set Barabbas free!”
I could not believe my ears:
They chose, not Him, but me.
“What of Jesus?”
Then asked the guards.
“Crucify Him! Crucify Him!
He is not our God!”
My shackles fell off:
By law a free man.
Pilate called for water then
And there he washed his hands.
The day grew dark
As He hung there,
Upon a cross with thieves each side,
Then He said a prayer.
He prayed, “Forgive them.”
Did that include me?
When He said, “It is finished!”
I knew He’d died for me
— Barabbas.
picture courtesy of Kanenori @ pixabay.com
In honor of this month of love, I thought I’d close it out with a jewel from my poetry archives — a piece I wrote several years ago for a NAPOWRIMO challenge to write a poem about love without using any of the hearts, flowers, cupids, or cliches normally attached to the sentiment. I had totally forgotten about writing this piece until I was wandering idly through my archives this week and spotted it. So for those of you who are looking for a way to determine whether what you’re experiencing is true love or not, maybe this little poem can be of help.
I know is this old world, it’s sad, but true:
Emotional relationships can fail.
And marriages, though formerly ’til death,
Now change as fast as color on the nails.
But I’m convinced our troth will still endure.
I’m sure of you as you are sure of me.
I know because we’re comfortable together
When on the same footstool we prop our feet.
What better test of faithfulness and trust,
Than doffing shoes and bravely baring toes.
Our feet look comfy, happy, and complete,
And for commitment’s sake we hold our nose.
~~~
photo: clker.com
Haven’t posted anything new in a while, and today I decided to make myself write. Unfortunately, when I sat down to the keyboard, the only thing that would stick in my mind were the first-line words of a centuries old nursery rhyme. Well, why not, I thought. And here’s the slightly embarrassing result. But it was sort of fun.
The Gutenberg Project – http://www.gutenberg.org/
Nursery Nonsense Continues
“Hey, diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle;
The cow jumped over the moon.”
I remember it well
This nursery rhyme swell,
And its sing-songy poetry tune.
But I’ve scratched at my head
Wondering, when all that’s said,
What on earth can it possibly mean?
Doggy barks in dismay;
Dish and spoon run away,
But no value or sense can I glean.
Well, hey, diddle, diddle,
It matters so little
That no reason comes in this rhyme.
For centuries now
It has cheered us somehow,
And will do so through eons of time.
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