Writing to God: Lift up a need for healing

To My Healer

God thank You that You are my Healer.

Nothing is too difficult for you, in fact,

miracles are Your specialty. You showed

that in Christ when he walked the earth.

So Heavenly Father, Heavenly Healer,

please, heal my body from head to toe,

and, please, do the same for all I know.

And I lift up the entire world to You,

especially children who have been abused

or are living in poverty, young mothers

who have too great of a load to bear,

those afflicted with disease: cancer,

diabetes, etc. Lord, I cry out for You

to touch us with Your healing power.

But most of all, open our spiritual eyes

and ears and heal our hearts and souls.

Make us whole and ready for eternity.

Poetic Bloomings: Alliterisen and PA prompt: something small

Powerful Puny Package 

Whispered or shouted it’s most manageable.

It’s not only small but brilliantly intangible.

When entered into humble human ears,

it can produce changes and calm ferocious fears.

And floating up to God’s gracious heart,

on the impossible, it can give you a sound start.

The famous, fabulous four-letter word, “Help!”

Words With Friend Wordle

Facing Ghosts

 She stood there, feeling old and worn,

like the castle before her.

She eyed the southernmost turret.

She used to be a part of this world.

She started humming so as not to emit
a groan at the memories.

She was among friends now

standing along the moat, bunchy,

like the Bells of Ireland growing along water’s edge.

Lighthearted deals were going on around her

as her traveling companions discussed plans.

She wished she could hire a driver and leave this place.

But she would have to bear it a little longer.

Her plate was full, her bed made, there was no exit.

She had agreed to this twelve-day tour.

It had sounded like a good idea at the time

to show them the lands where she grew up.

She wouldn’t take them to the turret.

She wouldn’t tell them what went on up there.

“Are you ready to show us your childhood home?”
She smiled at her friend, “Yes, I’m ready.”

Writing to God

Holy, Holy, Holy! 

Lord, I sit here at the kitchen table amazed

when I think of this scene in heaven

depicted in Revelation 4:1-11.

All the wonders and mysteries

All the light, vibrant colors and beauty

Life on earth is merely a blip on the radar.

A shadow

A wisp

It's nothing compared to eternity in heaven.

God, help me be the woman You want me to be.

Show me how I fit into all of this.

I will dare to believe that, despite my faults and shortcomings and sin,

You have something great planned for me

here on earth and in heaven.

I know You’ve given me a special gift with my writing and poetry,

but I also know if You want to use something else, You can.

But I’m a little excited about the possibilities.

I just pray that You gift me to express Your truths,

Your character, Your love, Your intentions.

You are worthy to be praised.

I pray that everything in me,

Everything that I think, say, write, paint, sing and do

will join in the chorus of the 24 elders,

“Holy, holy, holy

is the Lord God Almighty,

who was, and is, and is to come.

¹¹ “You are worthy, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they were created
and have their being.”

My Journey

At times a mountain

A vertical climb

Obstacles along the way

Enduring harsh temperatures
Determined

 At times a showboat

Enjoying the ride
Watching live entertainment
Leaving driving to others
No control

At times a schoolroom

Listening, learning
Preparing for influence
Making friends, growing, training
Limitless

At times a garden

Hard work, diligence
Tilling the earth, planting seeds
Sunshine, fresh air, pulling weeds
Abundance

At times a wedding

Eyes of tenderness
Pledging love and commitment
Promising joys through sorrow
Company

At times a poem

Small expressing big
Capturing, declaring essence
Finding God in the details
Manifest

Through the Year when I was a Kid

We ate hot dogs and sauerkraut on January First

And chips and coleslaw till we’d about burst

In February, on gray, snowy days

We’d build snow forts and put on plays

In March when days were windy and cool

We’d fly kites and day dream in school

In April we’d walk in rain and splash in puddles

We’d float boats and stay out of trouble

In May we’d count the days till school was out

We’d ride bikes, climb trees and run about

In June we’d build dams and play in the “cricks”

And explore the woods and make cabins out of sticks

In July we’d have wiener roasts, one and all

On the fourth, we’d play badminton and ball

In August we’d stay in the pool

Is all we could to just to stay cool


In September we hated to see summer end

But liked to see our school time friends

In October we’l rake and jump in fall leaves

We’d hike about in jeans and long sleeves

In November we’d get ready for the snow

And have Thanksgiving or practice the bow

In December we’d shop, bake and make list

And then have a lot of fun opening gifts

wordle using words played on Words with Friends

Gotcha  

The road stretched out into a dark void.

I sat on the front seat of the car

blinking back tears unwept.

It was my birthday and not one

of my friends remembered it.

 Seated beside me was my dog, Jake.

He nuzzled my shoulder as if wanting

to prove  his love to me.

The headlights shone on a figure
standing in the middle of the road,
a male  about 180 pounds.
He was waving me to stop.
I didn’t feel safe, even though
I knew Jake, a German Shepherd,
could easily take him. My car wasn’t roomy,
barely enough room for Jake and me.

I knew the sand dunes were just over the hill.

What if the stranger’s car was stuck?

And the fog was becoming milkier.

 I decided to take my chances

and stopped the car and just then

an old van pulled up. The man,

probably hearing Jakes barks
and warning growls headed to the van.

I thought maybe I could worm

my way out of this one.
Zillions of reasons to not become involved
 marched through my mind. Alone in the shire,

I wasn’t about to kill the fatted calf for a stranger,

especially when I could be the fatted calf.

For some strange reason, I thought back

to the second grade class I taught.

A noun is a person place or thing.  

Well there’s the person, this spooky road is the place

and the thing is this gage or challenge

seemingly coming from the heavens,

or from somewhere else?

I tend to want to do everything

but end up doing nothing. I quit arguing

with myself, leashed Jake, opened the car door

and approached the van.

 The van doors flew open.

Hooded figures jumped out
and yelled, “Gotcha!”
My heart stopped pounding
when I realized they were my friends,
emphasis on the “were.”
“Happy Birthday!” they said
and we headed for the dunes to party.

How Not to Crack an Egg

We were baking cookies, my sis and I.   

Well, at least, we thought we would try.

It was different that day, I’ll tell you why.

There was nothing to fear, nothing to dread,          

until my sis cracked an egg on her head.

We put in all the sugar, brown and white.

The flour and salt was off to the right.
She hit the egg on the side of the bowl,
but that stubborn egg remained firm and whole.

With a fork, she smacked the egg with a whack,

but the shell was thick and would not crack.
She knocked it on the table with loud thumps.
That little egg could sure take its lumps.

Then..”I know what to do!” she smiled and said

then my sis cracked the egg on her head.

PA hair

Dorothy Smith’s Bright Red Hair

Dorothy Smith’s bright red hair

Can be seen from miles away

Dorothy Smith’s bright, red hair

Glows like fiery clay 

Dorothy Smith hid her hair

Underneath her hat

Dorothy Smith’s bright red hair

Even shone through that

A lost boy wandered in the woods

Guess what showed the way
Dorothy Smith’s bright red hair
Surely saved the day

After About the Teeth of Sharks by John Ciardi

My Cat’s Froggy Hat

The funny thing about my cat,

She likes to wear a froggy hat.

And when my kitty cat goes out,

Shows off her hat and struts about.  

The cats and dogs around the place

Wear haughty smirks upon each face.

My cat meows, “To each his own,”

And then turns tail and saunters home.

After Robert Frost's Stopping By Woods on a Snow Evening

Watching Blue Jays on a Cool Evening 

The sun is setting in the west

The porch is cool, ideal to rest

I swing and watch blue jays soar by

They chatter as they build their nest

They dart about from ground to sky

And nab some bugs as they fly high

They concentrate upon their task

I am unnoticed as I spy

The nest is open like a flask

Soon eggs will fill this tiny cask

I wonder if of them they scheme

Their eyes are bright within their mask 

Their chatter carries a bright theme

But soon they’ll guard and shrilly scream

With fierce resolve they’ll hatch their dream

With fierce resolve they’ll hatch their dream

Poetic Bloomins Enough--Fed Up

That’s Life 

I’m fed up.

I’ve had enough.

Who’d ever think

life would be so tough? 

If I have money,

I have no time.

There seems to be

no reason or rhyme. 

Floating down the stream,

headed for the falls.

Relentlessly,

the stream never stalls.

It’s a weird set up—

peculiar, odd.

What can I do,

but turn to God ?

More than Enough 

Days pass swiftly

as straw in the wind.

Memories good and bad

linger like wisps of smoke.

In retrospect, I see

You’re always with me,

always meeting my needs—
no matter what.

Enough

E veryday we have

N eeds and blessings.
O pportunities,
U rgencies and joys.
G od supplies what we need to
H andle each new day.

Writing to God

Coveted Words

Lord, I’m afraid that at judgment,

instead of saying, “Well done,
good and faithful servant,” You’ll say,
“Half done somewhat good

and semi-faithful servant.”

I think of my unfinished projects.
Changing directions midcourse.

My failures as a spouse and parent.

God, please show me what it is

I’m supposed to be doing well.

And, please, help me be more dependable.

PA prompt desert, PB form naani

Friends gather,

bringing bananas, nuts,

cherries, ice cream, chocolate syrup—

Banana split party!

Klutz

I skinned my knees again

Even though I’m only ten

More times than my dog has flees

I scraped the skin off my knees

I need to wear knee pads every day

So my knee skin will be here to stay

My elbows should be covered too.

Because they’re always black and blue.

It seems I fall every time I run.

So I’ll tie a pillow on my bum.

And I better wear a helmet on my head

Or maybe I should just stay in bed.

New Bike Meets Old Man

 

I got a brand new bike today,

Purple hand grips, shiny wheels.

See me speeding down the street,

Hearing, “Oohs and aahs!” and squeals. 

As I go whizzing down the hill,

Dogs are barking. Kitties run.

Grannies jump out of the way.

I’ve never had so much fun.

Until, old man Warner steps out,

Arms crossed, wearing a frown.

And a few seconds later,

I see him from upside down. 

I got a new bell today.

See me pedaling gently by.

I politely smile and “ding.”

Well, at least, I’m going to try.

Poetic Bloomings Prompt --Childhood Home

Where I Grew Up 

Huddled in hills

in western Pennsylvania

sat a little pink house

(sometimes yellow, red or white)

by Charlie the Oak Tree

in a neighborhood where a creek

and a small road ran through,

by the name of Shannon, our name.

Mostly relatives

were scatted about

some longtime friends, too,

My four sisters and I

rarely stayed indoors

climbing trees, sled riding,

exploring the woods,

playing pretend games

after all the old shows,

eating fruits from trees, bushes

and even out of the gardens.

We were mad when

a new neighbor moved in a mobile home

and wiped out the best blackberry patch.  

Pappap sold the land bit by bit

and house poppped up all over

hidden in the summer by the foliage

but in the winter we saw them encroaching.

The little road became busier

until kids no longer played on it like we did

when we needed a smooth, flat place.

We grew up and left and the pine trees

took over the yard, hiding the little house

until it was abused by renters and torn down.

But still standing tall is the Oak Tree, Charlie.

Haiku

Jumping in puddles

Shouting and splashing about

Joy after the storm

Childrens Poems

Peach Pie Race 

At the fair I stuffed my face,

just because of some dumb race.

I shoved them all in my mouth—

great peachy pies from the south. 

Freshly-swallowed south peach pies

piled up inside to my eyes.

Peachy snot came out my nose

and dribbled down to my toes. 

As peach goo poured out my ears,

all around me I heard cheers.

Then the last fell from my chin.

Who ever thought I would win?

After that, I don’t know why,
I never ate another pie.

Box House

My mom gave me a cardboard box

As big as Daddy’s backyard shed

It’s now my clubhouse without locks

An old couch cushion is my bed

A board—a table, chairs are blocks

At first, I banned my brother Fred

But it was boring as can be

When just my dollies came to tea

PA Prompt Change famous title

Anna Can Run, Uh Huh
(Anna Karenina)

They lined up at the starting gate,

Determined in their stance.

But just as the gun sounded off

Poor Anna lost her pants. 

She swiftly pulled them up again,

Although her face was red.

Her sneakers gripped the Astroturf

As down the track she sped.

Anna passed those lagging behind

Then zipped up to the front.
So all the hecklers watching there
Just had to bite their tongues.

When Anna crossed the finish line
Folks all agreed as one,
“She may be such a skinny thing,
But Anna sure can run!”

Writing to God

Creative God

 I praise You God of Creation

for being, well, creative.

The sheer variety astounds me,

not to mention the cleverness

in the way You provide

for each living creature.

You are extravagant

and superlative. You go to

the Nth degree.

Infinite

Eternal

Abundant

You never run out of anything.

Lord, by Your Holy Spirit,

help me tap into Your supply

of creativity, mercy and grace

to Your praise, honor and glory.

Writing to God

Writer’s Prayer

Lord, You are all You say You are.

You keep Your promises.

You answer prayers.

You love, heal, guide and protect.

You are good. 

And even though You are harsh

with Your people, at times,

Your intentions are their ultimate benefit,

and You are attentive, alert

and ready to heal and comfort.

Please, come fill me now

that I may write words that will
guide, comfort and encourage,
because You are that kind of God
and I want to be that kind of a person.

Poetic Bloomings Title of a movie

Fly Away Home

These fleeting days on earth go round and round

And weeks fly by like speedsters down the track

And even months pass in ways that astound

And years shoot forth and never will come back

And like contestants on cheesy game shows

We race the clock trying to get things done

And what we win nobody even knows

So some suggest we’re in it for the fun  

A voice of love and reason softly calls

And says the way has already been made

From dawn of time He understood the falls

And by His Son the price has all been paid  

Like honeybees so headed for their comb

May we be ready to fly away home.

Hope

H ope in Jesus

O nly. There is no other way to

P lease the Father. Jesus is the way to

E ternal life. See John 3:16.

 Sensitivity 

S pirit, please open my

E ars. I need to hear Your voice and I

N eed to learn to listen and do what You say.

S pirit, open my eyes.

I need to see Your hand in my life.

T oday, draw near to me.

I need to feel Your presence.  Give me

V ision to be able to see beyond myself.

I need to know the Father’s plan.

T oday, draw near.

Y ou are merciful God and worthy to be praised.

Poetic Blooming Pantoum

Gardening with Dad

Tommy trailed Dad down garden rows
He watched Dad plant each tiny seed
He longed to see how a plant grows

That would explain his naughty deed

He watched Dad plant each tiny seed
His plan seemed right just at the time
That would explain his naughty deed

Felt innocent of any crime

His plan seemed right just at the time

To take a look see underground

Felt innocent of any crime

As Tommy plunged his shovel down

To take a look see underground

We’re just the same way with God’s plans

As Tommy plunged his shovel down

With worry we too upturn plants

We’re just the same way with God’s plans

We question how His Word comes true

With worry we too upturn plants

And what a childish thing to do!

We question how His Word comes true

Instead of trusting in His grace

And what a childish thing to do!

Let’s keep His promises in place

So let us trust in His good grace

And follow Dad down garden rows

Let’s keep His promises in place

And see how each plant surely grows

PA vacuum

Vacume

If I had a vacuum cleaner

that sucked up letters,

with a whoosh I’d take

out the extra U from vacuum

and then, when I emptied the bag,

I’d nab that letter E which

I extracted from impasse
and stick it on the end, thus
relieving two spelling headaches.

Baker's Dozen Wordle plus Poetic Bloomings Seed

The Spider 

A spider has its place in life

Though it has its limits 

To catch those pesky flies,

With a web like frost on glass 

Its silken thread glistens in moonlight

As the spider guards its seed 

The spider goes about being a spider

With no glimpse of the big picture