Here is a new poem: Lord, strip away every distraction, Wipe away the haze. Turn my eyes fully on You To rest with unwavering gaze. Strengthen my faith to know no doubt As I walk with you all of my days. From every tongue in every time May there arise a song of …
Here is a poem inspired at a weekend retreat with some amazing people, where God took time to demolish the places I was looking for strength and to reinstate Himself as my one true source of security: I thought my home was taken Away these past five years, In houses whose owners made me fear …
Come, the gentle swaying trees, The fresh, cool breeze, The foaming seas, The buzzing, busy, happy bees. . Come, the rainbow in the sky, The mountain high, The home-made pie, The song-bird singing as it flies. . Come, the calm, patt’ring showers, The old towers, The fresh flowers, The joyous solitude hours. . Come, the …
As a kid, did anyone else feel safer by simply hiding under the covers when there were scary sounds at night? Does anyone else feel safe, at peace, when the sky is covered with clouds, too exposed and vulnerable when there’s not a cloud in the sky? That’s how I often felt and feel. Maybe …
When I ask for life like it used to be, You say, “The past was beautiful, But the future is brilliant. We’re on an adventure, No two days are the same, But I’m leading the way. Remember our past, Rejoice in the present, Rest in the promise of the future. You are and always will …
Yellow is the best color. It’s butter on popcorn At a movie theater. It’s a sunflower lifted toward the sky, A VW Bug stuffed with friends, Hip-high rods of cement and steel That tell you it’s safe to walk here. It’s a glass of lemonade On a hot summer day, The star atop a Christmas …
Sometimes, you don’t realize something is missing until it comes back. The neighborhood mockingbird who does a stellar impersonation of car alarms all. night. long. is just such a thing. He went away for winter, and apparently returned two days ago. So I wrote a poem in his (annoying) honor. In days of old, they …
The best of days are days like these, when my grandchildren come to visit. I play catch with vivacious little Timmy, laugh with Isaac when he sticks the wooden spoon into the bowl of flower and milk and dust flies everywhere, and I sit and drink tea with solemn, sweet Abbie while she reads a …
I wonder how it came to be That magma cooled for thousands of years, Pushing forward toward the sky, Rolling, rolling down a stream, Till, cool and polished, This mottled stone came to me. I wonder how it came to be That someone dropped a tiny seed, Which the wind wrapped in a blanket …
I promised you a lot of poems, and so I must deliver :) Here’s a new one! Several years back, there were really bad brush fires where I lived. For no apparent reason, I thought of them and had to write this poem. I am a sentinel at the second-floor window watching the amber tongues …