Tag Archives: poetry

The Face

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In 1990, our then Pastor gave a sermon depicting the many faces of Christ. It was very interesting, and gave us another way of looking at Jesus. The lady sitting beside me gave me an elbow poke and whispered, “You could write a poem about this.” I am quite susceptible to the power of suggestion when it comes to writing anything and immediately thought, hmmm, I wonder…

And so, I came home, sat down with pen and paper and came up with this:

THE FACE

Evil, cruel, hardened,

set in grimaced scorn.

Flattened nose,

upslanted eyes,

with pointed ears was born.

Hollowed cheeks,

haunted eyes,

disease its toll has taken.

Wasted skin, hungered, thin,

in poverty, forsaken.

Criminal,

Down Syndrome child,

Aids victim,

Poor man’s tryst,

Look!

And then, please look again…

and see the face of Christ.

©1990

I gave a copy to the lady who poked me, and said, “Here you go, Christine, this is for you.” She took one look at the first few words and said, “Oh, I don’t want to read this!” But she did, and I do believe still has the poem in her possession all these years later.

As for me, that sermon and ensuing poem gave me the eyes to see all of God’s people in a whole new Face.

 

The Bible on Poetry

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Happiness is finding something to post at the last minute. Browsing through my poetry file I came across this 2012 poem, and thought it would be nice for a Sunday post.

THE BIBLE ON POETRY

The Bible is a book of books,

Sixty-six in all,

Filled with fascinating facts

To inspire, repel and awe.

“He who is pregnant with evil

And conceives trouble

Gives birth to disillusionment.”*

This Psalm is quite poetic

As is Solomon’s Song of Songs.

Job is a book on patience;

Love fills the Book of John.

Does the Bible wax poetic?

Yes, I’ve really come to know it

That God Himself, the Author,

Is the Master Poet!

*Psalm 7:14

©2012

Enjoy your Sunday, it is the day the Lord has made…rejoice and be glad!

 

 

 

 

The Train of Thought

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I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about thinking lately. There was a time in my life when a marriage counsellor told me, “You think too much.” What the heck was that supposed to mean? I didn’t give it too much thought at the time, but every once in awhile that comment comes to mind and I think to myself, “What was he thinking?”

Thinking takes on many forms: creative thinking, wishful thinking, positive thinking, negative thinking, thinking through it (whatever the “it” may be) thinking out loud, putting the thinking cap on…and so on…you get it, right? Well, now that I think about it, away back in 1994 I was thinking about thinking and came up with the following poem:

THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT

The train of thought

raced through my mind

traveling at top speed

down memory lane,

through rough terrain,

steep mountainous land,

wide gorges spanned,

irregular track,

through tunnels black,

by pastures green,

valleys,

still waters bridged,

meadows,

slowing,

slowing,

slowing,

slowly coming to a stop,

the train of thought.

©1994

The greatest transportation system in our world can be our train of thought. I don’t exactly remember where that thought came from but it seems pretty accurate to me.

And then there’s this from Philippians 4:8 “…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.”

 

 

My Heart Soars

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Today, I’m going to again borrow from my “poetry post” for something to blog about. Yesterday, I had the privilege of picking my two youngest grandsons up from their baseball camp. They are now twelve and ten years old and a delight to be with. The twelve-year-old no longer holds my hand and is taller than I by a few inches, and his dimpled brother still has those remarkable dimples. This is what I wrote when they were three and one.

MY HEART SOARS

My heart soars with the flight of birds,

winging their way to the rising sun,

the sight of its glow on their wings.

My heart soars with the song of the cardinal

gently penetrating the remains of my night’s sleep

and the answering call of his mate.

My heart soars with the rustle of leaves

dancing to the beat of a summer breeze

and the fragrance that fills the air.

My heart soars with the insistent tug

of my little grandson’s hand in mine

and the dimpled smile of his brother.

My heart soars with the promise of a new day

waiting to unfold its miracles,

showing me the miracle that is my life.

©2005

I chose today to rewrite this poem because my heart still soars to all these things. Each new day of life is still a miracle, and God is still in his Heaven. Even if things are not all right in the world, today they are all right in mine.

Inspired by Bloggers

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You know what I love about blogging? It’s the inspiration that comes from other bloggers. I had full intentions of taking a break from this new favorite pastime, and catch up on reading posts that I’ve not had too much time to delve into. But it didn’t work that way, because reading made me want to write! Reading other’s blogs gave me new incentive, and the next thing I know, I’m back on the page.

Yesterday’s post by Katie got me started again, and then I read one of Butch Dean’s poetry posts, The Days of Youth. Well, that got me to thinking about my favorite self-talk: “I miss the me I used to be” and that led to another brand new poem which will be today’s post.

THE ME I USED TO BE

I miss the me I used to be,

the things I used to do,

I miss the energy and verve

the vim and vigor too.

I miss the way my feet could dance,

the way my body bent,

contorted to the Limbo

as ‘neath the pole I went.

I miss the feel of garden soil

where once my hands did dig

while scrunching down to plant the seeds

before my joints got big.

Yes, I miss the me I used to be

and all the things I did,

but even though the body’s old,

inside I’m still a kid.

©July 2014

And you know what else? I have a fantastic family, a wonderful church family, and now feel I have a blogging family as well. Life is good!

 

Peace, Poise and Power

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These words showed up twice in my devotions this morning after I said my usual “What do I write about today, Lord?” prayer.

Some borrowed words will make up part of today’s blog: words from the Bible and other writings. It was John Randolph Price who said “live your life with peace, poise and power” in his book Practical Spirituality. This sounds pretty simple but in reality, is pretty hard to practice when life gives you a smack about the head and ears. But, that is exactly where these words fit in. Pray for peace, practice poise, and feel the Power; God’s power!

St. Peter says, “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you.” (1 Peter 4:12)

My current trial does feel quite strange, something I never saw coming nor dreamed would ever afflict me. So, poise is called for, and is forthcoming.

I can do everything through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:13) Yes!

All this is to say that no matter what surprises life has in store for us, there is an answer.

And so, I come to the end of one hundred blogs in one hundred days. Hurray! To those who have enjoyed and looked forward to them, I say, thank you very much! For those who have not, I apologize. We cannot be all things to all people. I realize that, but it doesn’t stop me from hoping, as this poem I wrote in 1984 implies.

LET ME BE A BLESSING

Let me be an inspiration

to the would-be uninspired,

let me soothe and comfort

when a mind becomes too tired.

Let me have the insight

to know when there’s a need,

let me be a blessing, Lord,

and do a loving deed.

Let me lend a helping hand

without the need to ask,

let me ease the burden

of another person’s task.

Let me bring some happiness

and let there be a time

for me to be a blessing, Lord,

to those whose lives touch mine.

©1984

And now I go forth to live my life, to the best of my ability, in peace, poise and power.

Until we meet again…♥

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetically Speaking

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There seems to be a rash of poetry crashing my psyche these days. It could be a good thing for those of us who like poetry, and not so good for those who don’t. Having said that, I have learned a lot from poems. Especially Rudyard Kipling’s IF — “If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, and blaming it on you…” (very important) or DAFFODILS by William Wordsworth — ” I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills…” I never pictured William as a lonely fellow (very comforting). How about “When I have fears that I may cease to be before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain…”–John Keats. (Is that fuelling my furious blogging these days?) And then there’s The Power of You, penned in 1998 by yours truly.

THE POWER OF YOU

If you would be more powerful,

release your ego,

let it soar!

Let the roar of you subside,

look inside,

see the power of you

released to empower others…

not destroy them

with ego.

©1998

Now that I’m closing in on blog one hundred, I have to rethink whether to stop. Faithful followers are asking me to “keep on  blogging”, so with that in mind, it will depend if the blogging muses will still be forthcoming with words of wisdom (or not). Tomorrow is another day–time enough for decision making.

Living to Learn

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Do you love to learn? There is not a day goes by that I do not yearn to learn something new. Realizing that even pain is a chance to  gain an insight into life’s lessons, what I’ve learned over the past couple of days is to listen to my heart even more often, and to search it for clues as to what brings so much distress, both to ourselves and others.

What I learned (although it is really a re-learning) is we cannot control other people’s thoughts, nor how they choose to interpret life’s messages (and life offers so many messages), or if they even want to learn. How are we motivated to look at life and its challenges? By paying attention to what shows up on our blackboard, and not being too hasty to erase it without looking at all the angles (hypotenuse not included).

Of course, all this is in my humble opinion, but one thing that came out of this morning’s soul searching is the following new poem. It has been a while since a brand new poem has shown up on my pages, and here it is.

BUT WHEN WE DO

Is to love those more

who love us less,

the answer to

broken-heartedness?

Love heals all things,

the pain subsides,

though tears at times

still touch our eyes.

Help us Lord,

to learn from pain,

that we may not

cause hurt again.

But when we do,

may we be wise

and brave enough

to apologize.

.©2014

I’m learning that as life draws to a close, though we expect to live happily ever after in our winter years, the damn snowballs keep flying! And I’m too old to duck!

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a Doggie Dog World

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Tyra 1

It never ceases to amaze me how we can hear the same words over and over in our lives and yet misinterpret them so profoundly. For instance, a young lady among my youngest son’s teenage friends had often heard her parents discussing the news as “it’s a dog eat dog world out there”. She really tickled us one day by referring to a particular news story, and drawing the conclusion that “it’s a doggie dog world out there”. Thinking of this memory brought to mind all the dogs that have touched my life in one way or another over the years, including beautiful Tyra, one of my nine grand-dogs who went to doggie heaven at Easter time this year, just before her fourteenth birthday. Thinking about all these pets reminded me of a poem I wrote back in 1974 when my own dog, Penny, was forever running away to play in a nearby stream. The  poem has nothing to do with that, though. I don’t even know how it inhabited my brain, but here it is.

WOE IS MOE

I have this dog, his name is Moe

he follows me wherever I go.

While tackling my daily jog

I’m followed by this doggone dog!

He cramps my style

I tell him “Scram!”

But soon he reappears with Sam.

Sam is Moe’s best pal, you see

and now they both are dogging me.

At last I’ve done half a lap

but Moe and Sam have done the track.

Joined by Jigs along the way,

these dogs think I am out to play.

Now jogging isn’t play to me,

I take it very seriously,

until I looked around and found

we’d added quite a large greyhound.

Now Grey and Jigs and Sam and Moe

all follow me wherever I go.

It follows that I gave up jogging

and the dogs have had to give up dogging.

Now I sit at home and pine

for some good old dogless jogging time.

©1974

I’m aiming for a little humor today. Is anyone out there smiling?

About Celeste

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After yesterday’s blog, someone asked me to write about Celeste. Although Celeste resides, among other places, on the menu, My Poetry, of my blog’s home page, not many people appear to be aware of that site.

Let me tell you a little bit about this special angel of mine.

The Mustard Seed Gift Shop was my home away from home for almost fourteen years of my life. It was my “pretty little gift shop” as I liked to refer to it. One day a shipment of beautiful porcelain dolls arrived, and one in particular caught my eye. She was dressed in a lovely, emerald green, sharply pleated dress with matching hat, and had an angelic face with pretty green eyes.

Just before the shipment arrived, an assistant and I had been discussing whether or not angels had names, and I said I loved the name Celeste. When I decided to call this beautiful new doll by that name, my assistant commented, “Maybe that is your guiding angel’s name.” That thought stayed with me for the rest of the day, and was still on my mind as bedtime drew near that night.

The urge to communicate with my angel was so strong, that with pen and paper in hand, I said, “Okay, Celeste, if you really are my guiding angel, let’s write something.”

This is what appeared on my paper:

CELESTE

Longing to write

through an angel guide

the words I seek

come from deep inside

the heart of me

where they cannot hide

from Celeste.

Pen to paper

an open mind,

wonderful words

of every kind

waiting in turn

to blend and rhyme

through Celeste.

Softly the words

flow to me

spanning space

through a Spirit free,

God-sent words

reminding me

of Celeste.

Longing no longer

the time has come

the words will be written

great works will be done

by Celeste.

©Patricia Ann Boyes

That was so easy to write, and yes, the words did flow to me. Would you call this synchronicity in writing? I’m not sure, but whatever one may call it, it ended my day on a beautiful note, and Celeste has been in my consciousness ever since.