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Showing posts from January, 2012

Kiss Life On The Lips

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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.



Into His Arms

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The Mag 101
"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 man…

Swimming Lessons

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"Happy 100th Magpie Tess!"

Mag # 100
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 of…

A Beautiful Gift From A Beautiful Friend,

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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 …

Cheap Therapy

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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

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Image:  Lee Friedlander
The Mag # 99
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.





Messenger of The Sea,

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Think Tank # 79

"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.

Hush

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River, Marina Moevs, 2005 Mag #98
"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.