Day 24

So I took a hiatus from writing poetry as I prepared for my visit to the 'Dale and as I traveled. I would like to revive a poem about disillusionment that I wrote almost three years ago.

Kroger Cranberry Sauce
Fond childhood memories of cranberry goo
Cherished deep in my heart.
The taste of cranberries is
Happiness to me.
Years pass, snow falls.
A distant bell tolls.
Can opener crinkles as I crack open
The cranberry sauce.
Savour the gelatinous cranberry
Savour the Jellied cranberries
Savour it.
But the can opener cracks open my heart
With the realization
of the Jelly not being
All that I hoped for.

Day 23

v: to rest
heavy sleepy eyes
eleven hours deep slumber
i awake refreshed

Day 22

Mea Culpa
The gossip's voice drips like a leaky roof.
Patience runs thin.
A mistake today is tomorrow's news;
The tongue ruthlessly cuts.
Grace opens eyes to how much
Each of us needs forgiveness.
Judgement blocks eyes from seeing
God's kindness, which leaves room and space
For repentance.
Grace--more than we deserve.
I am no better than you, my friend,
And I wonder how to be gracious
In the midst of your criticism.
Forgive us, Father, for we know not what we do.

Day 21

Innocence Lost
School shootings wear on the soul.
Peace disturbed in Lancaster--
Nowhere is safe.
Our Father...
Freedom stretches thin when men use it
To abuse and kill little girls.
Not like this, oh, not like this.
Deliver us from evil...
What can be done to prevent
Senseless acts of violence
By the unpredictable wicked?
For Thine is the Kingdom...

Day 20

Unexpected visit from a dear friend
No time to write poetry
Will post tomorrow

Day 19

Found Art
Paint cracks resemble
Mark making, story telling,
But no hand made this.

Day 18

Layers of Imagination
How quickly a debonair order
"Venti coffee and a grande macchiato"
Turns into an established acquaintance
An unexpected conversation
An awkward first date.
Him: rich, worldly, handsome
Her: poor, naive, hippie
Almost like a fairy-tale, the peasant girl is
Rescued from her menial life
By a dashing bourgeoisie gent
In his sexy convertible.
Except it really is fantasy,
Not reality at all.
Him: too experienced, dangerously good-looking
Her: innocent, yet intuitive
Gut feeling: stay away.
Danger is alluring, but often not
Substantial.
He will compare her to other women
She will compare him to Jesus
And both will fall short.

Day 17

Interpretation
Morning mist encloses me as I drive
Ebbing, swirling, seeping in every side.
Wipers sweep the windshield clean,
But within seconds, the fog returns.
Bleary-eyed, the heater awakes and
Relieves the wipers of their duty.
Soon the warmed glass is consistently clear.
My mind's glass needs constant Gospel warmth
To bring clarity to my foggy senses--
Without it, life seems muddled and distorted.

Day 16

Break from the Computer
Poem under construction;
computer turned off.
Back at eight-thirty AM.

Day 15

Lullaby
Sweet baby, hush, for I will sing
Your dark dreams far from here.
Close your wee eyes and rest your mind
There's naught for you to fear.
In Jesus trust, deep rest you'll find;
He bids you, Come, draw near.
When you awake your heart will be
Rested, refreshed, and clear.

Day 14

Rejoice with Me
Orange that bursts on blue sky--
O sing, sing!
Sun shining like mid-July--
O sing!
Wind that ruffles my curls--
O sing, sing!
Clouds that billow and furl--
O sing!
Tall trees that sway,
Small hands at play--
O sing!

Day 13

Mr. J. Swan
His desk was on a platform and it jutted
Over us and his craggy brows jutted
over deep-set eyes.
Time had marked his face with creases of wisdom;
He had the air of a wizard or philosopher.
The lay of the land was as familiar to him
As the back of his hand
And he was stern, but good.
In my mind now, he rises above my other teachers
Whose faces I recall dimly, if at all.
If I still lived near Danum, I should like to ask him over
For a cuppa tea to discover
What "J." stands for and perhaps we could talk
For the first time as friends.
I do not think I would be disappointed.

Day 12

Little to Say
I tried to write
something trite--
trivial--unforgettable--
but I stayed my pen.
And this thought is not
memorable or profound,
but I'd rather be brief and honest
than write something that would
be noted as an irritating waste of time.

Day 11

Coffee Break
Well yes, you garner my admiration
When you request "For here" and receive
A ceramic mug.
Even so, I no longer judge
Your character based on
A paper cup.
Sure, it's just your culture and you can't be expected
To belong to the one percent who appreciate
The finer things of life.
It's only Starbucks anyway
And you didn't ask for
A French press.
You could, you know.
But you don't need another option;
You want the familiar,
The unthinking to
Break you out
Of your mundane Monday.

Day 10

lost and found
trapped in a queue of vehicles
only mind free to wander.
cannot see what lies ahead
or the reason for the standstill.
unable to reverse
patiently waiting
waiting
9:39...10:02...
exit appears, destination uncertain
following signs with hope and some faith
for true direction.
straight on yellow--
submitting to one-way mazes,
driving as if i actually
know where i'm going.
then by some odd chance
or direct providence
i am back on familiar ground
and soon enough, i find that i am
home.

Day 9

Sometimes the most important things are
Overshadowed and consumed
By trivialities.
This imbalance becomes clear
Upon careful consideration,
But objectivity is hard to come by.
It is one thing to discover that
Your life is imbalanced,
And quite another to
Create order from the chaos.

Day 8

some days the emotion spent in the living
saves none for writing poetry in the night.