Tuesday, August 1, 2017




She writes with passion
She writes with fear
The exploding ink explodes with tears
Upon the page…
As her words pour
From deep within
Her heart cries
Her soul aches,
As her words are drawn.

Expressions not found in vocal utterances
But flows through her pen’s black ink;
The color she prefers to see
As she writes
Her emotions upon the page…
Her journey’s trials
As they move on from day – to – day.

Her pen is her emotional therapy
It is the tool within her hand;
The grasp is firm.
A natural place…
As she writes her words so full of grace,
Unlike her mind,
Which tends to race.
It is her peace through her seasons:
Seasons of sorrow
Seasons of joy
Seasons of peace
Times that explore…
Within her heart.

Her pen seems to find
What is hidden deep;
In different planes
At various times:
Six in the morning,
Or at night…
Written on the pages,
Is her journey’s plight.
With exploding words
From passion or tears,
One may understand
Her walk through the years…
When her trials awake
Or when she puts them to sleep,
Either or
They are hidden deep.
No one may see looking outward,
But read between the lines,
She’s very forward.

It is her art
Of emotional release
The passion
The tears,
Of her words;
Are her peace.

Enchanted Plains

To define the land of enchanted plains
Where mountain peaks rise into heaven,
And seas, rivers, streams drink the rains;
Beasts roam the land’s altering leaven.
Men armed and battle ready; do patrol
The sacred stairs to the king’s grand castle,
Set upon the highest hill to control
Savages n’ thieves; the kingdom’s hassle.
A critical force, is its protection.
Perception of one’s eye, is enraptured
Of the grand view and water’s reflection
Of one’s inner soul’s intention captured.
For reasons, obvious, the beasts and king
Vigilance due treachery; armies bring
Sacred stability for all to cling.


As believers,
We pause and ponder
Upon God and His awesome wonders
It may slightly blow with a soft breeze
Or rush through us like a mighty wind
Whether soft or whether mighty
It is in our stillness
And quiet seeking
Of His voice
Listening for His perfect will.

Hearkening unto His voice, that guides
In place of quiet solitude
Is better than a man’s many words
Spoken in vain.
When our speech is hushed
Our ears are open
To the Creator and to others.

A quite hush renders clear vision
He cannot be heard in screams and cries
Of fleshly will
In wilderness seeking
But His Sovereign Will can be found
In the stillness of the morning hours
Or midnight mediations.

God’s thoughts are higher than our own thoughts
His ways are higher than our own ways
Jehovah Elohim is All – Powerful
He is always near
He is omniscient, All – Knowing
He has a plan;
For all our lives are set in motion
According to His will.

Our cup may be filled with undesirables
But is our cup of afflictions flavorless?
Jesus lifted his cup of grief
Seeking His Father’s will
But God’s plan had been poured
And in a quiet solitude,
He found peace;

Do we accept what has been poured?
Can we hear His voice amidst our wilderness cries-?
Screaming in the center of our dark cloud?
When we pause…
Allowing the breeze or wind to blow
Are spirit, our soul, of our earthly vessels
Are open to hear His will;
Understanding the cup that has been poured.

Our cup will overflow,
With God’s blessed will
In our lives; we can see Him move
Mightily in the storms and quiet walks
Contentment is found
In His loving arms.
In His strong right hand.
In any situation, we will know
It was all His plan.


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