Survival

Humor, Original Art, Poetry, Uncategorized, Watercolor

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.


~~~~~~~~~~~

Frustration

Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

 

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



 

Christmas: The Long Version

Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

CHRISTMAS TREES - PAINTED -- Prawny -- PXI celebrate twelve days of Christmas.
Beginning on our Christmas day.
In 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 twleve days of Christmas:
Sing carols and give gifts of love.
For twelve lovely days making merry,
Reveling with happy angels above.




photo courtesy of Prawny @ pixabay.com



 

Country Christmas Roads

Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

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




 

‘Magenta Nativity’ — Watercolor & Verse

Original Art, Poetry, Uncategorized, Watercolor

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!
***




 

Thanksgiving Poems — Week 1

Humor, Poetry, Uncategorized

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.


♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦


 

Stepping Through The Door – Cinquain

Cinquain, Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized
WHITE DOORS - 7 -- Arek Socha 00 PX - purple

Arek Socha @ pixabay.com

Portals
Wait before me.
I stand before closed doors
But do not let that hinder me:
“Open!”

Behold,
The doors obeyed.
And now I stand in awe.
I see what possibilities
Await.

So now
I must decide:
Will I cross the threshold?
Will I accept new challenges?
I will!


~~~~~

 




 

A Cardinal Sits With Me

Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

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).

 




 

Forest Reflection

Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized, Watercolor

 

RAINBOW FOREST w. shading

I know a forest filled with rainbow colored trees.
And every time it rains, they lift their leafy heads.
For God’s great promise spoken to Noah years ago,
With bow that promised we’d have no more floods to dread,
Reflects its multicolored prism on these trees,
And God’s great faithfulness from tree to tree is spread.




 

Ignoring The Call

Humor, Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

WOMAN LEAPING

It seems Old Age is calling me,
But I just cannot go.
I have too much of childhood left,
So much that I don’t know.

Why, I still love to color
And to play with paper dolls.
I still delight in bubble pipes
And bouncing rubber balls.

Ah yes, Old Age is calling me,
But I just cannot go.
I still feel like a coed,
Full of life from head to toe.

I hear Old Age a-calling me,
But my decision’s made.
I’m just too young at heart to go.
Old Age’ll have to wait!

~~~~~
~~~~~

 


 

Emmaus Road To Revelation

Inspiration, Poetry, Uncategorized

Holy Bible, Luke 24:13-35

'THE ROAD TO EMMAUS' -- Robert Zund, 1877 -- Pub. Dom.

Two walked along Emmaus’ dusty road.
And there was none to soothe their aching hearts.
‘Twas only days since they’d stood at the cross,
And watched as death tore all their dreams apart.

The Teacher they had come to love and serve
Had spoken words they’d never heard before.
They thought He’d bring about more drastic change,
And were confused when He’d walked through death’s door.

But suddenly another trod with them,
And questioned them about their solemn air.
They couldn’t believe He did not know the tale:
The prophet’s death and how His grave was near.

And as they stopped for evening’s rest, they asked
If He would join them in their humble meal.
And as they ate, He spoke to them with love,
‘Till their hearts burned, and they saw Him revealed.

This teacher who had blessed them with His life,
And whom they’d reckoned dead until that hour,
Now quietly revealed Himself alive,
Risen to reign in unimpeded power.

~~~


Painting by Robert Zund, 1877