Confidence

Confidence

C an do it attitude

O ptimism

N ever getting bogged down in

F ear

I solation and

D epression

E xpecting good

N ot bad

C onfident in the Lord

E xpecting Him to help me face whatever comes my way.

for May 30

Joy

J ust as I am expecting nothing but

O pen and honest communication and connection with

Y ou, knowing that everything will turn out okay. 

for May 29

Love

L ife lived

O penly and honestly

V alueing others,

E specially their eternal souls

for May 28

Hope

H eavenbound

O ptimistcally and fruitfully

P assing time until

E ternal promises manifest

for May 27

Faith

F earlessly

A bounding

I n

T he grace of the Lord until

H eaven

Poetic Asides Learning

Grade School Lessons

In first grade I learned

about unlikeable people.

The rough boy behind me

was the bane of my existence.

In second grade I learned

that God looked in the window

when the teacher

wanted us to behave.

In third grade I learned

I needed glasses

when I made mistakes

copying from the board.

In fourth grade I learned

how nice leaves looked

once I could see them

with my new glasses.

In fifth grade I learned

what it was like

for a boy to hold

my books for me.

In sixth grade I learned

a teacher’s criticism

could keep a kid

from writing poetry.

Poetic Asides Learning

Impressive

I was about four or five

sitting on Daddy’s lap

counting to one hundred.

He acted mighty impressed.

I think of his kindness,

patience, and attention

while missing a TV show

and I’m mighty impressed. 

Phoenix Rising Guild Memorial poem

Daddy’s Chair

Daddy had a big overstuffed chair. It was his throne.

One of us sisters, at times, would sit in his chair,

but when we’d see him coming we’d move fast.

He never asked us to get out of his chair.

He’d go to another one, as if he’d sit there.

But we’d insist that he’d take his place.

He had a big place in our hearts.

He slaved at the steel mill,

worked hard in the yard and garden,

hunted and fished to feed five daughters.

He had a sense of humor and teased us,

We teased him about being bald and grumpy.

We may not have verbalized it at the time,

but we knew he deserved his own chair. 

From a photo of Santa Barbara

At the Beach

Beige sand stretched out

shimmering in the sun.

Palm trees poked up

like abused paint brushes.

Pastel purplish mountains

lie in the background

like a giant slumbering seal.

Adobe houses with red roofs

assumed an identity of nature

from morning pages

Let There Be Light

I am a quivering utility line

waiting for the power surge.

Flip the switch, Lord. Between

us let’s light up someone’s life.

morning pages

End Tables

One cluttered with books,

pot holders, clock, plate,

cup, notepad and pen

a mini office, kitchen,

and library combined.

The other held nothing

but the phone,

all important,

the next call

might change a life

forever.

Poetic Asides childhood

Bare Feet

Pounding grass

Tiptoeing over stones

Sticking to tarred road

Delighting in thick moss

Numbing in cold creek water

Stepping on honeybees hidden in clover

Phoenix Guild That's My Line

“Goodbye, I did not get to say, that is my regret” from Julieann’s No Regret-Except

Goodbye

My friend was of the positive faith persuasion.

Convinced he’d live beyond the prognosis

of prostate cancer, he prayed, confessed and died.

Goodbye, I did not get to say, that is my regret. 

From the news

Grandma’s Lap

“One more lap,” Grandma said.

Fast, she ran round the yard.

Ran at school. Ran to win.

It should not be this hard.

“One more lap,” Grandma said.

It was all about a lie.

Round she went lots of times.

It felt like she would die.

“One more lap,” Grandma said.

She’ll never lie again.

Grandma’s anguish, too late.

Grandma pays for her sin.

from morning pages

Propulsion

I am a baseball, about to be hit.

Will I go into the first baseman’s glove,

bounce about freely in the field,

or over the fence out of the park?

Let the whack that hurls me be gentle

and may I be that home-run ball

that glorifies Your name.

Or rather, may I be a rocket;

but there still would be a fire at my tail.

I guess if one goes far

one has to go through some suffering. 

"Small stone"

Catching a Glimpse

The coats lined up

along the back of the couch,

bowed over like a row

of repentant parishioners.

In the center a headband,  

the flower looking up

like a naughty child peeking

up at the prayers.

Mercy, grace, and love

More of You

Mountain of mercy

Ocean of grace

Reservoir of love

E ven though I am

O rnery and unfaithful

F orgiveness prevents

Y ou from giving up

O n me. I am

U nder Your covenant. 

From morning pages

You Are…

Like an unfinished painting

Splashes of color

Shapes forming

Promises of beauty

PA loss

Loss

Eyebrows point noseward

Mouth turns down

Eyes weep

Body weakens

Moaning, wailing, keening

Swimming in molasses

Bound

PA Bury

Bury the soldier

And grieve

And wonder why

Was it worth such a great sacrifice.

What did it accomplish

The government that he fought for

Was it really on his side?

PA bury

Bury the Hatchet

Baby, I can’t bear

to continually listen for your footsteps

waiting for one fell swing

to chop off my head.

Phoenix Guild wordle

A Mother’s Day Poem of Sorts

When stress flames up like a California conflagration,

mothers may disparage all those around to cope.

She may seem austere as an old-time schoolmarm,

but her fanaticism for her children lies at the heart.

Presumptuous people assume that hate has won out.

But my rebuttal is that if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t cry.

The critic may say she must be more in control of herself

and not let her own pessimism dictate her actions.

The skeptic may say, some moms, but not all.

You can analyze, scrutinize, criticize but the loving one

would delineate what’s really going on in a mom’s life

and with gregarious enthusiasm lend a helping hand.

Friends prolific in kindness will go a long way to inspiring

the innovation, not the downfall, of moms everywhere. 

May 9, 2015

Bury Jesus

In your heart.

Let him resurrect

your old dead life

into a spring lamb.

PA Across the Sea

Across the sea

people like me

are being beheaded

for what they believe.

Here I am free.

But for how long?

PA craft

Crafting

C reating, making, shaping,

R andom items like lids, seashells, scraps of cloth into

A rt or something useful.

F ashioning a masterpiece from junk.

T urning odds and ends into something worthwhile.

I nspiring imagination.

N imble fingers

G oing for two kinds of green.

May 6, 2015

The Advantage of Worry

My college friends and I

discovered a grapevine in the woods

which sailed out over a small ravine.

We called it Vinny.

We had a blast for several days.

But it broke.

The friend who was on it at the time

jumped off before it went over the high part.

We went to another friend who knew about Vinny

and with sober faces told her that Vinny was dead.

Her face equally serious,

she asked us who we were talking about.

When we told her, she was relieved

it wasn’t one of her classmates named Vincent.

Maybe worry does have one positive effect.

When you learn it’s not as bad as imagined

it’s such a relief. 

PA honest

Honestly

We used to be honest

with each other

to the point of pain.

Somewhere along the line

the pain got too intense

and we became quiet.

Now our talk is only surface.

Isn’t there a happy medium--

honest, but not too honest?

Parenting

Damage

Father, please don’t hold my bad parenting skills

against my children. Step in and be the Father

that nurtures, cherishes and disciplines them.

Graciously fill in the gaps I left behind which to me

are as big and desolate as the Grand Canyon. 

From quiet time

As surely as fruit flourishes

on well-watered trees,

people produce good deeds

as minds meditate on God’s Word.

PA Work

A Lick and a Promise

“A lick and a promise,” Mom would say

when she didn’t have time to clean properly.

I picked up on that phrase with a passion.

Half-hearted hurried cleaning with a vow.

Next time, I’ll move everything to vacuum.

Next time, I’ll free the corners from cobwebs.

Next time, I’ll clean the counters to the end.

Next time, I’ll dust the Venetian blinds.

Why am I in a muddle to get to the next project?

Wouldn’t it be better to do less, but do it well?

Freedom

Freedom

They want

to have their cake

and eat it too

as they shove

what’s abhorrent

down our throats,

crying, “Freedom

you haters!

Equality!”

We gasp for air

as chains entangle

our hands and feet.