Today’s FOWC is Idiom, and I wasn’t sure if it was possible to use the actual word “idiom” in a poem, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone and participate in Fandango’s Flashback Friday. 😀
This is a poem that I posted exactly 5 years ago. The original post is here. I’m grateful for this one. Good job, Jenna from 5 years ago!
When life is hard and full of sorrows,
You hold them in Your hand.
You, who with all grief acquainted,
Are stronger than this world’s sand.
Hold me tightly my dear Savior,
And redeem this day,
May I be safe in the Beloved,
And in Your goodness stay.
Jenna from 5 years ago then adds, “There is always, always hope.”
I’m having trouble finishing almost all of the poems that I started today, so here is one that I wrote yesterday, no prompt. It is a butterfly cinquain. 🙂
Created my being,
The reason for my existence
Nevertheless keeps on calling,
“Cor ad cor loquitur,” *
In a language
* Latin, “Heart speaks to heart”
Today, during the women’s group that I am a part of, we did a special guided meditation and prayer. When we were given time to journal about our experience, I wrote several very bad and very short poems because I process things best by writing them in verse. I have decided to share one with you. 🙂 XD
I write a crap-ton of bad poetry.
Because there’s a crap-ton of shit
(Look at how articulate
I am) going on. Sometimes I forget
This life is a gift and the
I AM is behind it.
For this week’s Weekly Scribblings at Poets and Storytellers United, we are writing micro-poetry, so I wrote this tanka today.
Longing for my God —
Weeping willow-branch reaching
For what’s out of reach —
Her long hair falling groundward
While the trunk continues strong
I’m a bit obsessed with ghazals right now, so here is another one, which I worked on yesterday and today, and which was partially written for FOWC: Repose and this prompt about immersion.
You know better than I what’s died in me.
My God who’s living still, abide in me.
One dream not dead has been this poetry,
Ideas are a spring ne’er dried in me.
A verse which starts despairingly finds hope:
See, these two sides have always vied in me.
In words’ expression there is some repose,
Despite immersion in emotions –strong tide in me.
A life not merely written nor read, but lived:
Sparrow-song calls, may freedom be satisfied in me.
The bridge between two days is called “Today,”
The past and future merge when it is Now:
Although this moment cannot ever stay,
And in a blink will need to take a bow
Without an encore, let Hope allow
A smooth transition to the moments new.
A brand-new land waits barely out of view.
For SOCS: Hope and FOWC: Slope, and yes, I am quite amused by the fact that those words rhyme. 🙂 Not to mention, that makes it easier to combine them into one poem.
Yesterday I didn’t post anything, but I still wrote a few poems over the last 2 days. Although
some most of my poetry is depressing, if I don’t write anything at all, then that’s when you need to worry. 🙂 After reading a few ghazals the other night, several of my own, new couplets were dancing around in my head, so I wrote them down so that I could sleep. The next day, I finished the ghazal, and here it is. I kind of like it.
This is for FOWC: Wing and for this prompt about camping. I didn’t really write about camping, exactly, but it helped to inspire this poem. 🙂
Camping out in my head:
Depression resting in its cold bed,
Anxiety building its abode,
Restlessly clipping my wings
So I’m immobilized instead.
This tent is unpleasant to live
In, but true friends as companions
Mean some hope is given.
Photo by Jessica Jochheim on Pexels.com
It would be cool if a dog could hang out with me.
This free-verse poem is for FOWC: Lament and MLMM’s Saturday Mix and is shared with today’s Writers’ Pantry.
We can have hope of Heaven,
A foreign land and yet the
Human heart’s native place:
Mountains and valleys of the Earth
Are beautiful, yet can’t replace
The God in whom souls find their rest.
We can have hope of Heaven:
Mountains and valleys of the Earth
Cause tiredness in wanderers’ feet,
The journey sometimes horribly long.
We rejoice because faith makes strong,
Yet lament that there are no shortcuts.