On the Way Home

The flower I found on Friday

I found a flower on the ground
And heard grace whispering: a sound
Of gentleness consoling me,
I feel lucky.

I feel not only lucky — blessed,
To have the bloom of beauty rest
Before my eyes, a color deep,
Kindness to keep.

A flowering of hope renewed,
Of happiness and gratitude,
And when the petals’ beauty fades,
God’s presence stays.

 

I wrote this poem yesterday and today, inspired by the flower I found on the sidewalk while walking home from the library on Friday. To me, the flower was like a present from Jesus. Shared with this week’s Writers’ Pantry.

Strange Metamorphosis

The world is ending. 

Hard to accept 

The world is looking 

Kafkaesque, and 

Its course is getting 

Coarser. 

 

Will cockroaches overrun

Once microbes are done?

 

The world is ending.

 

Except, not now.

So let’s linger

Over a cold brew,

Talk ’til it’s all gone. 

brown wooden chairs and table
Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels.com

Another quadrille for DVerse, plus I’m responding to FOWC and MLMM’s Saturday Mix: Double Take. Also, there’s something about those chairs and the focus of that photo that I really like. 

Wings Like a Dove

I wrote this etheree today, inspired by the psalms and gospel. It also reminded me of the poem The Dove of Peace, which I wrote a while ago. I wrote a series of 3 poems based on one picture, but I’ll only link to the first one. 🙂


If
Only
I could have
Wings like a dove,
Like the dove of peace,
Like the dove alighting
On Jesus — and those white wings
Shall open wide and welcoming,
Finding rest in the depths of my heart,
Where even there will be found living peace.

A Faraway Place

This week, we are slanting the paint chips, and I also responded to this prompt, “More than just a place.” Maybe it’s a stretch, but I think it suffices. Also, I did not exclusively use slant rhymes but tried to incorporate a few, whether within lines or at the end of them.


The moon is more than a faraway place,
She among the stars is like a beacon
In a foggy harbor: a kind face she can
Offer. A muse she can provide, kinder
Than Poe’s raven, making the mind more open.

Her presence gives nourishment; she is rocky
So she understands. Sans wheat fields
She yields soul-food, remembering what’s good.
Sometimes she even sends a moonstone,
Reminding the lonely they’re not the only one.

Fresh Air

Here it is, Thursday evening again, so here is my almost-late response to both the paint-chip poetry prompt and this prompt about togetherness. I am responding to these prompts together to make it easier. 🙂 That’s not such a “daring” thing to do, is it? Without further ado, 31 words including one of these paint chips:

Sitting on a park-bench
With you, as nighttime falls,
Watching bunnies come out of
Bushes and tweeting birds retreat —
The sunset comes as we
Relax and breathe — breaths of fresh air.

Voracious Reader

Inspired once again by the prompt from yesterday, I wrote this tanka about reading. I make time to read every day — it’s kind of like eating a meal to me, not optional like a dessert — but there’s still never enough time to read as much as I wish I could, or if there is enough time, then I use too much of it on other things, such as watching videos on Youtube.


My home library:
Full bookshelves are prepared for
Reading with gusto

If only there was enough
Peace, and quiet time waiting

Is Hope…?

This was inspired by someone I know, who said the other day, “Don’t wait to have hope.” In some ways, that’s easier said than done, but I had sort of forgotten that you, by definition, don’t have to wait for better times in order to have hope.

Update: shared with DVerse’s OLN on 8/19/2021


Is hope
Something that must
Be gone ’til better times?
The need for it climbs the worse things
Become —

Don’t wait
To dig deep, find
That precious, priceless pearl.
That little flame of hope can save
One’s world.

Flashback Friday: Grant Us Peace

For Fandango’s Flashback Friday, I am sharing a haibun that I wrote 3 years ago, since August 6th is both the anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan, and it is the feast of the Transfiguration, when Jesus goes up on a mountain with Peter, James, and John and is “transfigured” so that they are briefly able to see Jesus’s divinity revealed. The original post is here.


In an island nation in the Pacific, a city is transfigured in a flash of light — complete destruction in an instant.

On a mountain in the Middle East, Jesus is transfigured in a flash of light — our hope of glory and eternal life.

Oh God, transfigure hearts — that we may find and bring peace.

Change may come slowly:
Tiny blossoms’ aroma,
While snowfall lingers