pictured words

ELOQUENT TEARS (No Words for My Savior)

Infinite grace, unhindered and free
Limitless mercy, darkness eclipsed
Undeserved pardon, lavished on me
Gratitude lies unexpressed on my lips

Silence of tongue, and hands I can’t raise
Words strung together fall short in their worth
Only my tears are fluent in praise
Here in my tears, my worship gives birth

Eloquent tears spill praise to The King
Dampening cheeks He crafted in love
Moistening lips that yearn to sing
Genuine worship to God above

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SNOW WHITE (acrostic)

snow-white-and-the-seven-dwarfs

She
Nibbled
On
Wicked
Witch’s
Harvest,
Ill-advisedly.
The
End.

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MIDDLE

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Photo credit: Deanna Marie Metts

Supposed to write a “middle” poem,
but got too much to do.
You caught me in the middle of
a critical breakthrough!

I’m finally centered, finally calm,
and finally bridged a gap,
and now I’m in the middle of
a well-earned little nap.

So, see, I cannot possibly
be writing as I sleep.
But maybe there’s an old poem
in the middle of my heap.

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A WORLD OF NO FORGIVENESS

Illustration: Quentin Blake/Puffin

“Look at what you has done. And there be no forgiveness.” (From Roald Dahl’s “The BFG”)

A WORLD OF NO FORGIVENESS

This story begins
not with, “Once upon a time,”
but with, “At no time.”

At no time has there
ever existed a world
of no forgiveness.

We could not go on
without mercy and pardon
for one another,

from one another,
and, yes, also for ourselves.
For our Creator

has built forgiveness
into the very fabric
of our humanness.

How deeply ingrained
is our need for forgiveness?
How deeply ingrained?

How deeply healing
when I myself forgive me?
And again I ask

How deeply healing?
Our God made a way for us
to be forgiven.

Made in His image,
the road is already paved
to forgive others.

Made in His image,
the road is already paved
to forgive ourselves.

So let’s live our lives
in the state of forgiveness
that’s been granted us.

“Look what you has done
and there be no forgiveness,”
and upside-down lakes,

and trogglehumpers,
and dreams that float like fireflies
are just a story.

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Open Apology to a Word I Have Abused, in 5/7/5 Form (a persona poem)

Image by Gerd Altmann via Pixabay

I have to admit
I’ve been syllabically
abusive to you.

I may call you poem
or po-em, depending on
my need at the time,

not even giving
thought to how this makes you feel.
Please forgive me, poem.

And please understand
this earnest apology
stated at this time

will remain sincere
whether at any time I
choose po-em, or poem.

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Voice from 1972

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Had I the chance to sit silently alone in this no-longer new auditorium, might I have heard the echo of your voice? The music you conducted? My younger hands applauding?

It seemed so.

**************

Being back in the PSHS auditorium this week for the first time since the mid-1970’s seemed a bit surreal. Pride welled in me as they honored Dad, and a very large part of me would have given anything to return to that time in my life. Not permanently, but for another round. Or two.

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