Posted in Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

At God’s Command

 

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photo courtesy of Jeff Jacobs 1990 @ pixabay.com

`
The tomb in which Christ’s body lay,
And the stone that sealed the door,
Were both created by the God
Who by His own name swore
That after three days and three nights,
Christ would rise from the dead.

God gave His Word, which has the power
Against which none can stand.
And when He said, “The price is paid,”
And shouted His command,
Christ rose with life for one and all,
And vanquished sin and death.



 

 

Posted in Inspiration, Prose, Uncategorized

The Amazing Story of the Real St. Patrick

ST. PATRICK BOOK AMAZON FRONT COVER BRIGHTER

I’ve shared this story several times in article format over the past 9 years, but never put it all together in a book that was available on a world-wide market. But now it’s available through Amazon in paperback and digital.

The little-known, but true story of one of the most amazing soul-winners in the history of the Kingdom of God. St. Patrick of Ireland’s life of ministry is replete with astounding miracles and spiritual experiences that match those reported in the chapters of God’s Word.

And Patrick is credited with bringing at least 70,000 people to a saving faith in Jesus Christ — without the use of any transportation except his feet and his horse, and without the help of electricity or modern technology on any level. The story related in this booklet is taken from Patrick’s own writings and sidesteps vague legends to give the reader powerful truth that will encourage and inspire the faith of everyone who wants to serve God.

Short and easy to read. Get a copy today and an extra for someone whose faith you want to inspire.

PAPERBACK:  $4.00

DIGITAL:  $0.99



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Posted in Haiku, Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

Hungarian Cookie Haiku

Exif JPEG

Memories so sweet:
Daddy baking cookies from
Fam’ly recipe.

Hungarian treat:
Flaky, sugared, golden dough
Stuffed with hickory nuts.

Each year at Christmas,
In kitchen warm and cozy –
Memories so sweet.


For decades, my dad (who was Bulgarian/Polish) baked Hungarian cookies. It was a recipe handed down from one Balkan country to another, and was a favorite of our family. However, in the last several years of my dad’s life, Christmas season included so many other activities as well that sometimes he just didn’t have time to bake those cookies along with everything else. When those years came along, he baked them for me on my birthday instead, which is February 1st. So it’s right that I’m thinking about them in February this year. I can almost taste them even now.

 



 

Posted in Graphic Art, Original Art, Uncategorized

Two Valentine Sketches

These are a little shadowy in places because they are in a sketch book, and I can’t close the scanner lid all the way when I scan them into the computer. Sorry about that. But I sketched them for today, and I’m posting them as my Valentine cards for all my readers.

 

ABSTRACT HEARTS SKETCH

JESUS VALENTINE-- ED.


HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!


 

Posted in Cinquain, Haiku, Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized

Rain Poems

It’s been raining here for two whole days, so I thought it was only fitting that I write about rain. Since I’m in a poetic mood, I decided I’d give myself a little workout and do one haiku, one cinquain, and one simple iambic pentameter verse about that subject.

HEAVY REAIN & TREE

HAIKU

Everything is gray.
Rain hanging like a curtain.
No sun peeping in.


CINQUAIN

Raining!
Again today!
I just have to complain:
All is gray and wet and dreary!
Boring!


IAMBIC PENTAMETER VERSE

Another boring day of endless rain.
We don’t need this much water every day.
Sunshine is now a fading memory.
The birds won’t even come out now to play.

I know some tribes have dances that they do
To bring the rain when grounds are parched and bare.
I wonder if there is another dance
To end the rain and turn the weather fair.



 

 

Posted in Humor, Original Art, Poetry, Uncategorized, Watercolor

Survival

In a moment of whimsy, I painted this little cartoon-ish watercolor and wrote a few words to express my feelings at the time. Sorry the page shows a few wrinkles, but it’s in one of my art journals, and those pages tend to wrinkle a little with the watercolor. Hope this little post adds a touch of lightness to your day.


TEA

Huge cup of tea,
A piece of cake,
A cookie — two or three —
Some chocolate bonbons in a box
That’s labeled just for me —
I think — perhaps — I’ll make it
Through this day adequately.


~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted in Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

Frustration

 

TYPEWRITER VINTAGE BURGUNDY -- WildOne -- PX

I am a writer.
Yes, I am; I know I am.
So why is it that
I’m so often in this jam?

I start new novels;
Then, alas, the muse runs dry.
Three novels just sit,
And I have no idea why.

I am a writer.
I’ve said it o’er and o’er again.
“I am a writer!”
Pounding, pounding through my brain.

Since writing novels
Doesn’t seem to work just now,
I’ll write a poem.
They’re much prettier anyhow.





photo courtesy of “WildOne” @ pixabay.com



 

Posted in Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

Christmas: The Long Version

CHRISTMAS TREES - PAINTED -- Prawny -- PXI celebrate twelve days of Christmas.
Beginning on our Christmas day.
Keeping with cent’ries of tradition,
I give out a gift on each day.

The focus for twelve days of Christmas
Is keeping Christ’s birth fresh and new:
Continuing the happy rejoicing —
Not packing things up — as some do.

For Christmas is not just December,
And not just for two or three days —
Begun and then done oh so quickly,
Leaving many then feeling malaise.

Come, join me for twelve days of Christmas:
Sing carols and give gifts of love.
For twelve lovely days making merry,
Reveling with angels above.




photo courtesy of Prawny @ pixabay.com



 

Posted in Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

Country Christmas Roads

winter-country-lane-reijo-telaranta-px

Country lanes at Christmas —
For the traveler, such a chore.
Snow encrusted, rutted lanes
That make manuv’ring poor.

It’s hard to see the shoulders
And the middle line is blurred.
For traffic in the other lane
No ample room’s assured.

And drawing towards the end of day,
When light is running low,
Traversing snowy country roads
Mandates my going slow.

But I’ll continue trav’ling down
Those snowy country lanes,
To friends and fam’ly, waiting me.
It’s worth whatever strain.

Besides, those Christmas country roads
Through woods and fields snow-clad
Resound with quiet so unique
It makes my heart quite glad.

They seem to wear a special peace
That blankets their domain.
And settles over me when I’m
On snowy, country lanes.




photo courtesy of Reijo Telaranta @ pixabay.com




 

Posted in Original Art, Poetry, Uncategorized, Watercolor

‘Magenta Nativity’ — Watercolor & Verse

MAGENTA NATIVITY - w. frame

Obscure and humble at your birth,
You came to show us our own worth.
Heav’n’s brightest star and angel choir
Proclaimed the birth of our desire.
Once come forth from sweet Mary’s womb,
You journeyed forward to cross and tomb.
But three days gone, You rose again
And conquered evil, death, and sin.
Now Heaven’s Daystar You’ve become
And reign eternal from Your throne.
We cherish Your nativity
But do not bow on bended knee,
For You’re no longer in that stall,
But ruling, reigning, Lord of all!
***




 

Posted in Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized

Thanksgiving Poems — Week 1

Thanksgiving in the U. S.  is exactly three weeks from today, so I think it’s only appropriate that I revisit some of my Thanksgiving poems from over the years — and maybe even write a new one.

This week I’ll begin the series with two: one quite serious and one just for fun. Hope you enjoy them, and if you’re one of my own countrymen, I hope they add to your expectations for a happy Thanksgiving celebration.

 

AH, THANKSGIVING, HOW I LOVE YOU!

RED DRESS

Ah, Thanksgiving, how I love you!
Golden crowning jewel of Fall,
Beacon of warmth and cam’raderie,
Sending glad invitation to all:

“Gather to worship; gather to visit;
Gather to focus on all that’s worthwhile;
Feast from tables resplendent with harvest;
Feast on the love in a touch and a smile.”

All the year’s labors weigh heavy upon us.
All the world’s problems seem bigger by far.
But out from that wearisome struggle you call us,
And laying it down, we run to where you are.

And whether in cottages, mansions, or churches,
Community buildings, or tables in parks,
We gather with gratitude full – overflowing;
To the Giver of blessings lift voices and hearts.

Then we return to life’s pattern awaiting.
Filled up with joy, we set off on our way,
Warmer and richer and kinder in spirit
For pausing to celebrate Thanksgiving Day.


♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥


WHAT’S FOR DINNER?

TURKEY WITH SIGN - SAVE TURKEYS

I spot him there, behind the barn,
A full-plumed, regal bird.
He looks up, straight into my eyes.
I speak no single word.

It’s happened thus, in passing years —
At least for two or three:
Each mid-November I’ve set my mind;
He’s been there to greet me.

Now, lifting his head in challenge strong,
He gobbles loud and long.
I lower my gun and heave a sigh:
To kill him would be wrong!

So, wrestling with my double mind,
I trek home to my wife
To explain why, once again this year,
Ham will greet the carving knife.


♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦


 

Posted in Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

A Cardinal Sits With Me

CARDINAL - HOLLINGSWORTH - BFP

A Cardinal sits with me at end of day.
It’s been a sad, unhappy time,
And I have lost my way.

He seems content to stay a while and rest,
And my front porch is cool with shade,
Sun moving to the west.

On other days I’ve seen him flit and fly
And labor quite industriously
For food that caught his eye.

Those days he’d pick at wings and clean and preen,
Then dart away and back again,
Quite nervous did he seem.

He changed his stance and cocked head constantly,
Not holding still a moment long;
He agitated me.

But, suddenly, this eve he’s come to sit.
As if he knew my sorrowful plight —
That I was in this pit.

And now and then he sings aloud his song.
But when he stops a while,
For more I long.

I’m sure his day is done; he should head home,
But here he sits beside my chair,
Just so I’m not alone.

His beauty, I have finally come to see,
Is unsurpassed: his ruby hue,
Wings black-edged perfectly.

In truth he is a masterpiece of life:
Each part of him a sculptor’s dream,
Down to his beady eye.

A good half hour he’s stayed and felt at home.
And looks right at me now and then,
To say, “You’re not alone.”

I sigh and realize I am content.
I close my eyes; begin to smile.
This is what Jesus meant.

He urged us to behold the birds of air
And take a lesson from each one
About His love and care.

“Yes, Jesus, I’m at peace in You at last.
This little bird you sent to me
Has fulfilled his task.

So take care of him, Lord and keep him strong,
And send him out to other souls
Who need to hear his song.”

Then opening my eyes, I seek my friend.
But he has flown while I have prayed,
His mission at an end.


“Look at the birds of the air! They don’t worry about what to eat — they don’t need to sow or reap or store up food — for your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are far more valuable to him than they are.”  (Matt. 6:26 TLB).