Lord, You are… 

A whisper among shouting

A mother’s loving hush

Vital breath

Quiet assurance

Gentle presence

A thrilling secret

Calm midst uncertainty

An intimate friend

A soothing hand

A quilted comforter

You are my peace.

Written Prayer

Spirit Matters 

A hunger is rumbling in the belly of my soul,

a desire to be filled with You to the very brim.

Without You, I’d be all skin and bones.

Fill me, sustain me, help me grow in You.

I don’t want to be a walking dead man,

but living in the abundance You died for.

This life is temporary, prepare me for eternity.

Please, show me what it is I’m to be doing well.

My heart’s desire is to hear, “Well done, daughter.”

Lord, open my eyes to see what I can do on earth

to make heaven a better place and hell emptier.

Poetic Bloomings Prompt: Who Do You Think You Are? /

Connie Lee Peters

C reative? Ah, yes, thanks mostly to my husband.

O pen-minded? Does having a hole in your head count?

N ervous? When I speak in public or when my kids are in a foreign country.

N arcissistic? A tad. Don’t writers have to be?

I ntelligent? Yes, except STM’s about shot.

E motional? Yes. Makes for a good poet.

L oving? Yes, just don’t bore me.

E ncouraging? Yes, most of the time.

E nthusiastic? Depends. Writing, family and traveling? Yes Housework? No

P atient? As a caregiver I have to be, but I’m not always.

E nergetic? I’m working on it.

T alented? In some ways. Writing? Yes Technology? No

E mphatic? About God’s goodness.

R ealistic? Not always.

S imple? Definitely.

Slow Start

Pulsing hum of airplane overhead

He, knees to nose, sleeps in a chair

She calls lazily from bed

Hubby rustles in back

Burnt toast smell in air

Sweet tea with cream

Saturday

Morning

Off

From a devotion

Summer of ‘77

Out the plane window, quite a sight.

Excited about her first flight 

and the summer she’d spend away.

She mulled over words of a hymn,

her ponderings became so dim.         

“God thrills my soul,” the hymn did say.

“Jesus means more than life to me.”

She was thrilled about many things:      

 (This she recalled with some dismay.)

cute guys, cool cars, this summer trip.

So many things made her heart flip.

But did He thrill her soul? No way.

At church, she felt most always bored.

Determined, she would seek the Lord

for her entire three-month long stay.

From summer’s start to summer’s end,

she asked the Lord to be her friend.

She read her Bible every day

and joined a church and helped them there.

Became more intimate with prayer.

Felt God’s presence in work and play.

Made strong, enduring Christian friends.

Now, on Christ’s love, this girl depends.

She learned that it’s great fun to pray.

On journey home, feelings intense,

she sang the hymn with confidence.

Writing to God

Lord, I Pray  

Hi Lord, I love You.

I pray that our hearts will connect
and that I will love what You love
and hate what You hate.
I want Your guidance.
I want all You want for me.
But most of all I want You.
You’re it for me.
Lord, help me love as You do.
Thank You for wanting me to love You
with all my heart, soul, strength and mind.
May I continue to grow in You
and become more like Jesus every day. 

Nonet

Thinking Place



Worries of the world wrangle within

Shaded wood, old broken bridge calms

Fresh blossom-scented breeze cheers

Dragonflies buzz above

Brown, curled leaves twirl by

Gnarled twigs rush past

Cold water

Bare toes

Ahhh!

July 24, 2012

Argument

Door opens and slams with squeak and bang

Clock rhythmically taps out time

Light shines through dust particles

Fly buzzes in next room

Chest rises and falls

Frig softly hums

Silence shouts

Alone

Still

July 23, 2012

Hands

I pray for Your will to be done

through  my hands:

when they touch

when they carry

when they work

when they type.

Whatever they do,

Lord, let your beauty

establish the works of my hands.

July 22, 2012

Watch Your Step

Infatuation betrays like

sheet rock in the attic.

Without the joist of commitment,

it may look like the real thing,

but ends up falling through.

July 21, 2012

Unexpected Trip (version III)

Passport goes missing before the big trip.

We search the house, in and out, upside down.

Retrace son’s steps, and follow every tip,

but looks like he’ll miss out on London town.

So off we go, a seven hour drive,

thinking he left it at his sister’s house.

A check in the mailbox when we arrive,

but, “There’s no passport here,” I phone my spouse.

So back on the road, it doesn’t feel real;

neon double rainbow extremely bright,

and then we see thick red dust, Mars-like feel,

then lightning storm, like fireworks, but white.

The trip’s a dry run—no reason or rhyme,

but wonderful surprises worth our time.

July 20, 2012

Unexpected Trip (version II)

Passport missing.

Turn the house upside-down

Retrace his steps

Pray

Nothing.

Daughter’s house?

Seven-hour drive to Phoenix.

No passport

Large unexpected check in the mailbox

Begin trip back.

Thick red dust, Mars-like feel

Neon bright double rainbow

Lightning storm—fireworks without color

Trip dry run,

but lovely surprises worth our while.

July 19, 2012

Unexpected Trip

So five days before my son and daughter

are supposed to leave for England, my son’s

passport goes missing. We turn the house upside-

down, retrace his steps, pray, but nothing.

Maybe he left it at my daughter’s house.

While my son keeps his eye appointment,

my daughter and I drive seven hours to Phoenix.

No passport, but in the mailbox is a large check

she didn’t expect. So on the drive back,

after Flagstaff, the wind blows the thick red dust

and we feel like we’re on Mars. So nice to

see something different. Then before Kayenta,

the double rainbow appears, brighter and clearer

than we’ve ever seen. The last two hours

we watch a lightning storm as thrilling as fireworks,

without the colors. So our unexpected trip

 was a dry run, but full of surprises worth our while.

July 18, 2012

Opportunist

The teapot sat pertly on the front burner

whistling its tune. Suddenly the lights

went out. I grabbed a flashlight

poured my tea, and grabbed a box of

pink frosted cookies. Not feeling noble,

I sat in my recliner and munched.

With a sigh, I wondered if there would

ever be hope for my diet. Better luck,

tomorrow. Now, I’ll enjoy a quiet moment.

July 17, 2012

A Moment

Like an Alzheimer’s patient

who can’t remember the past

or plan for the future

and has to live in the moment,

may I appreciate each second You give me

and use it efficiently.

Help me reach out, learn and grow, try new things

as if I have all the time in the world,

yet, at the same time be aware of brevity

and that I should live each moment  to the fullest.

Lord, thank You that someday I will have eternity,

eternity past and eternity future, no end.

May all I do in the moments I have here on earth

make a positive impact on eternity.

Writing to God

Atoms, Moments, Breaths 

Lord, we don’t really possess a thing.

As each second ticks into the past,

we only have now and it, too, goes in a hurry.

We’re not guaranteed the next second.

We could die with one heart beat.

Speak to me about the little things

The common things

The things that are overlooked.

These are what we have—

whatever is in front of us at the moment—

like an Alzheimer’s patient

who can’t remember the past

or plan for the future

who has to live in the moment.

Lord, help me appreciate each moment You give me

and use it efficiently.

Help me reach out, learn and grow, try new things as if I have all the time in the world,

yet, at the same time be aware that this may be my last day and I should live it to the fullest.

Lord, thank You that someday I will have eternity,

eternity past and eternity future,

no end.

May all I do in the moments I have here on earth

make a positive impact on eternity.

Poetic Bloomings That's My Line 2

I Would Find Something Small to Do That I Know Would Make a Difference
(Linda Swenski, Prompt 63)

God

who made
the size of the universe

absolutely mindboggling,

made it up of equally astounding smallness.

Wisdom can be drawn from anything God does—

to accomplish big dreams, start with something small.

Wordle: hanging, guitar, juice, ignored, sorrow, regret, nerve, realize, deserving, security, battles, rage, precious, fortune

Seeds 

Beneath a shade tree, hanging out alone,

I strum my guitar, picking out a tune.

I sip my juice and think of seeds I’ve sown.

Those I’ve so long ignored will grow up soon.  

I feel a pang of sorrow for each seed,

and regret as I watch them sprout and bloom.

I hadn’t had the nerve to pay them heed

and I realize the impending doom  

will fall on those deserving better care.

They long for safety and security.

Instead, the battles rage when I’m not there.

So with each new day, do they think of me?

Do they know they are precious to a ghost,

whose fortune was to drown far off the coast?

7 13 12

Muse on Strike 

My muse has gone on strike today

See it with its picket sign

At least it hasn’t moved away

I’m sure some day it will be fine 

My muse hasn’t shared its demands

What can a muse really want?

Not fame, riches or lands

Or a house down by the ocean front

Perhaps it lacks some air to breathe

Or maybe just a kick in the butt

Don’t know what it really needs

Or how to get out of this rut 

So if I get up out of this chair

And make myself some good hot tea

And think of poemy, dreamy things

Maybe my muse will come back to me

7 12 12

Lazy Poet 

Sitting lazily in my chair

As if I hadn’t a single care

What it’ll take to get me up

Wish I had some tea in my cup
Or an idea for a real poem
Something that will truly show’em
But instead I write these random thoughts
And think about the should and oughts
Until I outright bore myself
Time to get my muse down from the shelf

PA Prompt: This is what blank looks like

This Is What Joy Looks Like 

Legs and arms usually faltering, shuffling,

now splashing around in the water.

Body once stiff and contorted,

now floating, zipping, bobbing happily.

A face typically preoccupied with other worlds

now smiles, blows bubbles

and connects with others in an

honest-to-God, shiny eye-to-eye gaze.

This is what joy looks like.

Grand Canyon

Angel wings

In moon-like-scape

Lures lunar fantasies  

Deep and wide

Writing to God Traveling

Nacre

My house: kitchen, living room, bedrooms, bathrooms, hallway

My neighborhood: Ash, 1^st, 7^th, Madison

My town: church, park, library, WalMart

My world is small but I know You are big enough

to care for the smallest of things.

Sometimes I feel my life is the short end of the stick,

that I should be out more

going, doing, being, stretching, growing.

But for now I’m like that grain of sand in the oyster,

perhaps just an irritant to the world,

but if I persevere, maybe something beautiful, like a pearl.

Poetic Bloomings uncertainty

Certainty

Grass wilts, leaves fade, creation is unsound

Cars rust, men die, buildings fall to the ground

Ah, but look to His blessings from above

Mountains of mercy and oceans of love 

We can never know what the day will bring

Or even if dawn will ever take wing

Ah, but with the Lord, we can be sure of

Mountains of mercy and oceans of love

Our days are numbered, many or a few

It’s out of our control, what others do

He sent His Son and Spirit like a dove

Mountains of mercy and oceans of love

Grand Canyon

Large sandstones form a platform for the viewers.

Pinyon and juniper—the curtains.

A sharp ridge—the stage.

The variegated canyon wall

and pale blue sky as the painted backdrop. 

I couldn’t say it was beautiful,

not like mountains on an autumn evening.

Nor could I say it was my favorite place,

not like a shady creek and a rustic bridge.

It wasn’t somewhere I’d return often

to while away my time.  

It was more of a spectacle

valued for its sheer size

and audacity,

like a giant space alien had take a bite out of the earth
and we had just come to stare at the teeth marks.

writing to God For a Moment

Thrive 

Father, I pray for wisdom to value eternity,

yet see You in the details of daily living.

As cedars find nourishment in a rocky desert,

may I drink in Your presence through tough times.

Writing to God--nature

Thank You, Lord, for Creeks

Cold water

Rushing over shiny rocks

Carrying leaves and twigs

Cooling my hot bare feet

Calming me with its gurgles

Refreshing

PAD

Celebrate

Yes-at the lake with a lunch

Wave the flags, launch balloons.

No fireworks. Don’t set

Colorado

on fire, please.

How I Feel

A New Born Puppy 

Eyes closed.

Ears attune to sounds.

Nose to smells.

Wiggling around bumping into puppy brothers and sisters.

Finding mother’s nipple.

Nursing.

Just being a puppy. 

I feel like that puppy.

Newly born.

Knowing nothing.

Blind, trying to figure things out by my other senses.

Help me remember that I don’t have to know ten steps ahead,

but deal with things as You set them before me,

and trust You to take care of me and teach me the things I need to know.

a small stone

Flowers fading in a vase

Cluttered table, cluttered house

A writer must write fast

before ideas fade like flowers

and tasks pile up like clutter

luring the writer away.

Poetic Blooming Prompt--Rest

Rest, My Friend 

Rest, my friend,

like a leaf dancing, whirling, swirling down a clear mountain stream.

Rest, my friend,

like The Braham’s Lullaby tinkling on a child’s music box.

Rest, my friend,

like a warm, caressing lilac-scented breeze.
Rest, my friend,
like a book of poetry and soothing, sweet hot tea.
Rest, my friend,
like silk swishing softly on skin.
Rest, my friend,
like gentle, lulling prayers of thanksgiving.
Rest my friend.