Tag: this writing life

a writer in two poems

i. small thoughts scribbled onto scraps peruse a time when life was different. Acknowledge the face. Growth is seen backwards and a day reveals potential the necessary pulled. Gauge the temperature. Do not waste opportunity to capture the fleeting moment otherwise long forgotten.   ii. small thoughts peruse past times feverishly scribbled onto scraps. valiantly…

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Blossoms

Sunday morning poetry. Church: words spoken to me, shared lovingly with you. My second chance to shape faith every Sunday for a year. Graciously plated food for thought laid upon paper, digested by those who seek the hidden. Listen, atop a mountain a master teaches to winsomely speak and raise the downtrodden. Seek His way…

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Morning musings…

Being alone is my favorite activity. The only voice I hear is mine. Whether what I write is worthy of being read is another issue to explore and I leave that up to the audience. Perhaps there will be a connection.      

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Then

Poetry is the very breath of God. In His Words He spoke life into being. Deep inside each of us something speaks. Listen. Believe. I rock back and forth in life’s womb hiding behind lie’s pain. Love masked by passing shadows. The home’s walls unstable I need to find me, the sky’s clouds, the dirt’s…

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Morning steam

I have more questions than I have answers today. My husband has been asking to read my poems and I finally succumbed. Over a fine-brewed cup of morning coffee, he read three. The result? Three entirely different poems sitting on my desk. I am confused. When do you know when to hit the publish button?…

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