Uncategorized | pictured words

October 4, 2017

Epiphanies (inspired by My Favorite Things)

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

Toddlers that “get it,”
That first sense of humor!
Ultrasound showing
There’s two in her womb, or

Suddenly noticing
His shy, sweet stare.
These are some things
That are special and rare.

Seeing my mother
In my own reflection.
More often noting
Decreased recollection.

Pleasant occasions
In which I take part.
Still finding plenty
To capture my heart.

Years fly quickly,
Oh, so quickly!
Decades swiftly pass.
So value your loved ones,
Your home, and your life.
Acknowledge your brim-
full glass!

September 25, 2017

THIS I KEEP ON DOING (a sinner’s sonnet)

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

“For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do –
this I keep on doing.” ~ Romans 7:19

Like Paul, I do what I don’t want to do.
The best in me is shallow as a shoal,
That barely covers that which is askew.
An ugliness lies deep within my soul.

Too quick am I to judge and criticize.
This goes against my core belief; my creed.
I want to see my fellow man with eyes
That focus on their value and their need.

I give to Christ my own besetting sin
And ask Him to unseat its hiding place.
I beg of Him to change me from within –
Remove what doesn’t bolster love and grace.

For He alone can break through this façade
To commandeer the part that’s deeply flawed.

4 Comments

August 21, 2017

America’s Solar Eclipse, 2017

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Photo credit: Eduardo Munoz/Reuters

These States, United,
looked to the heavens, as one
nation under God

#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

The Monument of Liberty State is photographed while the solar eclipse is seen over Liberty State Island in New York, Aug. 21, 2017. Photo credit: Eduardo Munoz/Reuters

July 8, 2017

ADDICT (sonnet for a friend in distress)

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She doesn’t fit the image in your head –
The one my title planted in your brain.
She’s quilted patchwork, fondly stitched bedspread.
She’s warmly welcomed gently falling rain.

She’s selfless soul and kindness above all.
Her prayers are like symphonic rays of sun.
When help is needed, she’s the one to call –
She’ll set distress aside for anyone.

Her nights are filled with terrorizing dreams;
Her days besieged with raging drug demands.
While patchwork stitches strain along the seams,
Her trembling heart is placed in Jesus’ hands.

If you are without sin, then cast your stone.
But He? He will not let her stand alone.

4 Comments

June 26, 2017

A Mile is Nothing

do not judge

Don’t judge anyone
Until you’ve walked in their shoes
As long as they have.

1 Comment

May 4, 2017

RECONNECT

Photo by Keith R. Good

just once
catch first glint of dawn
chase rise and fall
of moon and sun and sigh

#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

4 Comments

April 5, 2017

SYRIA (Sonnet for the Severed Souls)

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The images. The videos. The news.
The view from here is simply that – a view.
For I can just ignore it if I choose –
Not take in what I’ll wish I never knew.

But you? You watch your babies breathe their last
while hospitals are bombed before your eyes,
and lifeless neighbors’ bodies are amassed.
You plead for help to long-obscure allies.

I want to send for you, and beg you come –
To sing soft lullabies to sooth your sleep.
But see, you are a fearsome threat to some.
That takes me to my knees to heave and weep.

While dead and dying lie within your reach,
Your wails are hushed by those whom you beseech.

1 Comment

March 26, 2017

PLAQUES

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“After the Rain” (Made with Love by Leeroy. Life-of-Pix free stock}

She writes her life in third person
Once removed.
In ink or lead or crayon.
Or spoon.
It’s strewn about while she

Remains unmoved.

Someone loved her once, she knows.
No. She knows.
She wrings her wrists
And twists her ring.
Can’t tell you what she ate
Or when.

Or who would ask such a thing.

She also knows this:
Each day is a season
Fused with strife,
Escaping her grasp,
Leaving her gasping

For life.

6 Comments

March 15, 2017

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME …

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Irish roses bud and bloom

Side-by-side in mother’s womb.

Beautifully, they grew in grace;

Elegant as Irish lace.

Happy Birthday to Mom and Aunt Peg, with love and great respect.

4 Comments

March 4, 2017

Reluctant Warrior (Sonnet for my brave, sweet friend)

Photo by Keith R. Good

The daddy that abused demands respect,
While brazenly he’s courting the profane.
She waits for alcohol to take effect,
Or swallows pills to numb the memory’s pain.

She daily chokes down bitter, misplaced guilt
That he’s imposed since she was just a child.
Wet pillow, stained where nightly shame is spilt,
Her very tears believe they are defiled.

But now she shuns her means for quick relief;
She’s trading pills and alcohol for truth.
And though her battle’s cruel beyond belief,
She’s vanquishing the crutches of her youth.

Her steadfast vision lifts and touches me.
Her only goal? “To God, the glory be.”

4 Comments

Category: Uncategorized

These States, United, looked to the heavens, as one nation under God

These States, United,
looked to the heavens, as one
nation under God