Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Kiss Life On The Lips

Linking with Poetry Jam a great place for writers that blog.


Life is a lover one must kiss on the lips if you want to feel its warm embrace.
You cannot merely touch its hand, or peck its soft sweet face.
Wrap your arms around it and hold it forever near.
Caress its naked truth and strip away your threads of fear.
Crawl into its cushioned bed and lie next to its reward of bliss.
For to live life to its fullest you must kiss it right on the lips.




Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Into His Arms


"God loves each of us as if there were only one of us." ~St. Augustine


Like a caged bird
 hope was not meant to be contained
it must be set free with wings full in flight
we can hold it within our arms
 but we must be willing to let it go
so that another may receive it upon their hand
it is a contagious cure that spreads to those in sight
but we must be open with outstretched hands
not curled up in the fetal position with only ourselves to hold
we need something greater than us
to guide us through this life
so reach out your hands
open up your arms
 embrace it's genuine gift
like a child running into her father's arms.




At church this Sunday I got my grandson out of the nursery, and was holding him when his daddy got into view.  His face began to beam.  I set him upon his feet, and he immediately ran whole heartedly into his daddy's arms.  I could not help but think about how that is for God.  How He must want us to run into His arms as well, but so many times we reluctantly scan our options holding on to our own understanding and search for meaning in all the wrong ways.  He does not want us to merely come to Him in a manner of caution, or last resort.  He wants us to run into His arms like an eager child longing for our Daddy's embrace. We can learn so much from the earnest love of a child.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Swimming Lessons





"Happy 100th Magpie Tess!"


We are born of water then struggle the abyss onto dry land.
We cry out for breath and comfort reaching for warmer hands.
With time our struggles move forward and seem to learn to grow,
like giant obscure statues rising from the stone.
We wrestle with life's waters, like we never learned to swim.
Grasping at the future's edge forgetting where we've been.
It is a journey full of waves in an ever flowing tide.
a souls lesson in strokes and breathing that takes a lifetime.





When I was growing up I did not learn how to swim until I was 17 years old.  At one time when I was about 12 my father had me take swimming lessons at a local YMCA.  It was quite difficult because I had developed a great fear of the water, and everything they tried to show me and get me to do was a major undertaking.  My fear prevented me from learning at that time.  It was a struggle that followed with me until I had the determination later to finally take my feet off the bottom and submerge my head and learn to hold my breath.
Life in general can be like this.  We have so much to learn, and sometimes it can be frightening, and we struggle with the process, like a drowning man in the ocean.  It only makes learning more difficult, but we can still learn, it just takes a little longer.


Saturday, January 14, 2012

A Beautiful Gift From A Beautiful Friend,

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive.  ~Anäis Nin


Friendship is such a beautiful blessing that God gives us in our lives.  Someone we can share with, laugh with, and cry with.  Over the last couple of years blogging, I have had the great opportunity to meet many wonderful writers, and gain amazing friends all over the world.  Today I would like to acknowledge one of these lovely souls.  Her name is Ninot Aziz.  She lives in beautiful Malaysia, has five children, and is the author of several books, about Malaysian heritage,culture, and legacy.  Ninot is a very busy, and successfull human being, but she always makes time for her family and friends.  I first met her at my blog, always leaving beautiful and uplifting comments. This led me to her's and the rest is history.  We became true friends.  One fact that I find really intriguing is that we both started writing at the same tender age of eleven years old.  Ninot once asked me to share my story of what inspired me to first start writing, so at her request I would like to share that story now.  When I was eleven years old a lot of changes had taken place in my life.  My mother had passed away 2 years before, and my father had just remarried and my stepmother and two of her teenage sons had moved in with us.  It was both an exciting and frightening time for me.  Because of limited space, and the fact that my brother could be cantankerous, I lost my room to my stepbrothers and had to sleep on the couch in the living room.  All of my toys had been packed aways while I was gone at my grandparent's house during my father's honeymoon.  So I began finding other things to do with my time when I came back home.  I did some reading, and watched more T.V., and then one day, out of the blue, I got the idea to write a poem.  I remember sitting at my father's desk with a pen and paper, and deliberating what I would put down on that page.  I looked out the kitchen window, and saw this magnificent tree, and just started writing.  The entire piece was about our home, that tree, and what it meant to me.  It was a silly little poem, but I never have forgotten how it made me feel to have written it.  It was such a wonderful sense of accomplishment.  It is a wonderful thing in the blogging world to be able to share my writing with other like minded writers and poets.  It certainly has motivated me to write more, and I have truly enjoyed reading other peoples amazing works.  Ninot recently generously sent me across the globe her latest book, "Srikandi".  I was very touched by her beautiful gift and wanted to share the story here.  Thank you Ninot for being such a lovely friend here in the blogosphere.  I feel so blessed to have met such an amazing and accoplished poet, writer, and beautiful friend!

 



Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Cheap Therapy


Lilnking with the wonderful folks at Poetry Jam.

"Poverty stole your golden shoes it didn't steal your laughter."
~Jewel from the song "Hands"


You can spend 200 dollars a visit at Dr Sinclairs.
Go to the spa have a facial and color your hair.
Buy some new heals that match your black dress.
Eat a carton of ice cream, and let the house stay a mess.
Whatever you choose to heal all of life's hurts,
let God's gift of laughter be the one you pick first.


 



The Great Architect

Image:  Lee Friedlander


With our bare hands and the tools of our trade we lift skyscrapers toward the sky.
We hammer then nail, raise walls, steps, and rails,working until our sweat has run dry.
The sculpors sculpt, the mason lays brick, and the contractor maneuvers delays.
Still the painters will paint, while the tile man does wait, as pedestrians pass in an oblivious race.
Labor's industry preceeds, through weather and toil, as the rubble vanishes and the marble does rise.
So once the glass man is done, and the lights have been hung, the doors will be open wide.
All the architect's papers and plans are now seen by each man a vision that now can be touched.
An achievement of dreams through brainstorm and chore, a virtuous process that cannot be rushed.
Yet, we must never forget through the strategy and sweat the true creator behind the scenes.
For the greatest architect of them all is The One that delicately designed all things, including you and me.






Thursday, January 5, 2012

Messenger of The Sea,



"Today is a smooth white seashell, hold it close and listen to the beauty of the hours."
~Author Unknown





My Grandma picked up a beautiful shell that she kept as a heirloom and held it up to her ear like a phone.  Wide eyed, I questioned what she was doing, and her beautiful answer was this:

"I can hear the sounds of the sea when I hold it close to my ear....here honey....would you like to try?"
So I took it from her shaky soft hands, and held it as close as I could to my little ear.  My eyes grew wider than they had been just moments before, when I realized she was speaking the truth. I really could hear it!  It was like a bit of magic right in my hands.   A sea shell was like the messenger of the sounds of the distant sea.  I never looked at a shell quite the same after that.  There was a beautiful mystery that each one could tell...that I would never forget.


Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Hush

River, Marina Moevs, 2005

"There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough to pay attention to the story."  ~Linda Hogan




STOP!
Can you hear it?
Its not a siren in the streets,
nor the click of high heels upon your feet.

WAIT!
Can you now?
Its not the swish of sales bags in your arms,
nor the clatter of rushing grocery carts.

HUSH!
Try again!
Its not your Apple iPhone's latest ring,
nor the latest news on your T.V..

LISTEN!
Have you never tried?
Its not the lawn mower 2 doors down,
nor the passing train's lonely sound.

....it is the story that God loudly speaks
in the lovely quiet of nature's peace.


Also linking with lovely Emily at Imperfect Prose.













....and they lived happily ever after.....

....and they lived happily ever after.....
The End.