The Gilded Leaves Of Autumn Sigh

The gilded leaves of autumn sigh

and herein lies the reason why

soon, they know, their time to die.

 

Adorned for a season with colors grand

and yet somehow they understand

death by their Maker has been planned.

 

But many before have been blown and swirled

with Goodman Gust have danced and twirled

as if not to have a care in the world.

 

“A leaf I’ll be always” is there perception

crafted by a draft of deception

eternity is a far future conception.

 

And so they spend their days in ease

living free spirited among the trees

letting the winds blow where they please.

 

If they’re honest though, they have a hunch

colors will fade, be reduced to a crunch

grim reaper will give the knock out punch.

9/17/18

 

 

 

 

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Winter Wildflower

There bloomed a winter wildflower
because God wanted you to know
limitless, His might and power
in your season of cold and snow.

Testing seemed to zap your strength but
there bloomed a winter wildflower.
God longs for you to see that what
you need can bloom at zero hour.

So dead appeared rose’s bower
in this frigid, chill nipping land.
There bloomed a winter wildflower,
product of Father’s loving hand.

Spring has come to your grateful heart.
Satan failed to devour.
Where he sought to plant doubtful dart
there bloomed a winter wildflower.

10/22/18

After Forever

 

After forever, the joy will come

though darkest night can seem so long.

We wish to pain that we were numb.

After forever, the joy will come.

Suffering ends . ’Tis the rule of thumb.

At long last, return of heart’s song.

After forever, the joy will come

though darkest night can seem so long.

 

12/15/17

 

Psalm 30:5  For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. 

 

Hebrews 12:11  Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby. 

 

1Peter 5:10  But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you. 

 

 

A Tree For All Seasons

I think that I would like to be

a Christian that is like a tree,

 

whose branches towards the Son are slanted,

in soil of God’s Word, so firmly planted.

 

A tree that lifts her arms to pray

when things are rosy or it’s been a bad day.

 

A tree that can provide some refreshing shade

for those who in burning trials, may feel waylaid.

 

A tree that in each and every season

knows for its existence there’s purpose and reason.

 

Poems are made by fools like me

but only God can make a Christian a tree.

 

5/9/17

 

Inspired by one of my favorite poems, Trees by Joyce Kilmer

 

Psalm 1:1-6  Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. 

The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.

Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.

For the LORD knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.

 

 

The Gift

When I was a young child, you were an old gray headed man that shuffled along slowly, aided by a cane. You never could move fast enough for me, and although I tried to hurry you, you would not be rushed. I looked forward to things like going to kindergarten, summer vacations and the holidays that never seemed like they would come soon enough. As I got older, I looked forward to graduating 8th grade, graduating high school, graduating college and finally getting married, but I was always waiting on you, for you were ever with me. Things just had to be done at your pace.

An amazing transformation happened to you after I got married. Suddenly you were much younger, and it seemed you and I were moving together at an almost equal speed. Now we were getting somewhere! We seemed to be in sync until I had my first child, at which point another alteration took place in you. You became even younger and seemed to have the energy of a teenager, while at the same time, I noticed that I was getting older.  I was enjoying being a mother.  There were days I just wanted to marinate in the experience, but you with your boundless energy kept pushing me forward. Before I even realized what was happening, my children were graduating from high school and growing up. Oh, you rambunctious youth! You just wouldn’t stop and rest even for a minute.

Then one day, I had an epiphany concerning you. In all honesty, you had been the same all along and had never changed. The only thing that had changed was my perception of who you are. You have been God’s faithful servant throughout the ages, and I am learning to cherish you more each day.  I will do my best not to try and hurry you or slow you down or squander you, but with God’s help, I will let you run your course. You are precious to me, Time!

1/3/18

An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving

 

Dear autumn time brings splendid holiday
in lovely shades of ginger and saffron.
Bright leaves announce Thanksgiving’s on its way.
Our crimson blessings we reflect upon.
With pies of pumpkin and amber chiffon,
cinnamon sentiments filling the air;
sweet loved ones and friends have gathered so near.

There’s frolic, feasting till the evening tide.
Of food and fellowship we’ve had our fill.
The umber sky, sun’s fire does now hide.
Our hearts are filled with gladness and good will
which does not dissipate with autumn’s chill.
And though Thanksgiving Day has come and gone,
the many colored memories live on.

9/9/17

The Seasons of My Writing

I can’t speak for every writer
of prose and poetry,
but from my own experience
this is what pertains to me.
As there are seasons in the natural,
some lovely, some not so inviting;
the same thing occurs when it comes to my pen.
There are seasons of my writing.

I’ve been through some winter like seasons
longing for inspiring urge,
but my pen felt cold and lifeless
almost like a funeral dirge.
These times of seeming deadness
when it appeared there was no inspiration,
although some of them lasted for years,
were really stages of hibernation.

Then at last there came a thawing,
a melting of my frosted pen;
sap that lay so still and dormant,
miraculously flowing again.
Suddenly, my quill, alive with bloom
and flowing like a fountain.
Free verse, limerick and haiku
come skipping over the mountain.
Poetry it starts to bloom
of various hue and shade,
stirring refrains and ballads
that sweetly serenade.
The forms that now are breaking forth
to me, they might be new,
a villanelle, a tyburn or perhaps a clerihew.

Then spring gives way to summer
with weather oh so warm;
palm trees and sweltering breeze
an easy feeling in my form.
Those hot August nights can quickly pass
with refreshing iced tea in my poet’s glass.

Then on into the next season
for fall, it now is time.
The colors are slowly fading.
Still there’s reason in my rhyme.
Hot apple cider, the pumpkin patches
And gloriously fun hay rides,
the air is stiff and cooler
yet inspiration continues to abide.

Finally, it’s ‘round to winter again,
and in spite of the holiday hustle;
it seems my pen has fallen asleep
and will not move a muscle.
I may feel unproductive
and like I’m really sluffing,
but it’s at this time God reminds me
that without Him I am nothing.
So, I’ll read and wait and pray
until God sees fit, and then,
when the timing is just right
He will send me spring again!