somebody’s fool

body is changing
to form yours
blood-laced gloves
back pockets torn

MacBeth fooled once
me twice more

submissive love
chains around this heart
your knife slices
kinky through my life

the battle

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

We think we know where God would have us. Man looks in God’s absence. We move into empty space, find our presence in man’s cross hairs.  People doubt. Question.

America is facing an election. I believe I know what should happen to America. What I want to see occur. The answer remains how I handle the answer or fear of what could be our future for four years.

I know not to fret. If believers behold how it all ends, this tragic play, Shakespeare could fuel us with his knowledge of human nature. The rest? The story of God.

 

follow

We may not understand someone’s journey, poetry or faith, but bloggers can appreciate those who stop by and spend time looking at our posts. A sign of camaraderie. We learn from each other, fall in love with works of art but also find objection and feel deep opinions. Gratitude reminds us we are alive. Life’s music, our heart beating as a drum; clearing thoughts, expanding horizons, seeing hidden perspectives we might not otherwise contemplate. This is life-long learning at its best. Wisdom derived from walking in someone’s shoes.

follow: to move forward along a road, path, river or sea

Life is a dance. Whether you glide over discouragement or stub your toes and scrape your knees, we celebrate how far we have come and know we will make it to the finish line. Still. Moving. Forward. What better gift is that? Encouragement to be yourself and love.

Image result for follow images

You may see beauty in photography, paintings, poetry, quilting, dance or other writings. You are far above the crowd who struggle in boots that do not fit. They have not found out where they belong. We all have purpose and perhaps our art is to serve others. Vincent van Gogh had a beautiful understanding of life. Yet he did not belong. A tragic Shakespearean play. The end of Van Gogh’s story was not to be but to be in future minds and hearts. A visionary? He knew color would be accepted and plowed forth in confidence. We understood a little too late but understand just the same. We pray for those struggling.

my favorite painting on exhibit.
i even bought the poster.
it spoke to me
in silence i heard
his plea.
love me.

Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well.
Love is the greatest gift we give. His art was not appreciated until he was gone. I challenge each of us to love today. Do not let another chance disappear to smile and say hello.
I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.
I recently attended the Art Institute of Chicago’s exhibit “Van Gogh’s bedrooms”. His paintings up close do his work justice. Brushstrokes exemplifying life. Vivid colors to cheer a depressed world. A tragedy that his love went unnoticed. He continues to influence art lover’s with passion.
We feel him.
We know him.
We are him.