Inspired By Thaxted

Dawn sweep away the perils

That chided me in sleep

Praying and crying out, though nasal

My Saviour, He hears me weep


Turned on side, pillowing my fears

The stillness, so loud, envelops

Reminded of a hymn to repress the tears

Gathering courage, to never give up hope


The day is bursting through

And the remnants of night, they fade

Flee away you woe, perhaps one or two

For today we choose joy, and will not trade

Miss Shelly

Miss Shelly

I call her

For she’s spared these eyes

A humbling moment


I hope that I too

Will someday be a Miss Shelly

She’s clothed in dungarees, blonde hair in a messy bun

She cradles her wee one, who’s also matching her khaki jacket


Miss Shelly

Ever so protective

Very much the doting mother

She loves on her little one


And me? I watch

Till his eyes meet mine

Baby chuckles in delight

What a wonderful sight to behold


Ah Miss Shelly!

She’d do anything for him

She’d put herself last

Miss Shelly, go on and be blessed


And I can’t help but think

Of all the purest connections

My eyes have made

With the very young and innocent


I wish they’d remember

I wish that, this could someday make them smile

I wish they’d know, how for a few minutes

They had made a stranger’s day

Blues

In a world of chaos

Some are choosing their blues

The big ones, the little ones

And they ponder in recluse

So be wary and considerate

That you know not their fate

For some have slept

Only to wake and walk

Walking, but not existing

For some have dreamt

A thousand dreams, yet still sulk

Moping in misery

And for some, they are hoping

For a glimpse of a miracle

Hands clasped tightly

As they mumble prayers of petition

And as for the writer,

She cries out for reassurance

Tonight, feeling weighted more

By the littlest of blues

Tower

Tower of refuge

They say You are

But to get to You,

Is going to take some effort

Lord be my helper

As I find my way to You


Tower of restoration

I’ve heard You are

But I’m deceived,

By the people so few

Lord quench the lying voices

That stay manipulating my thoughts


Tower of Purpose

Stay right where You are

Because I’m not losing You this time

Be it bend or bump on the way

I’m coming to You Lord

Sometime between sunset and sunrise

Night of…

Night of laments

So why do I see the stars?

For every mistake, a choice I made


Night so contoured

Why do I sense hope?

The haze, slowly fading into the horizon


Night, of…restoration

Certainly must be

Regrets are in the distant

Someday

Someday, worried one

You’ll find the light

Someday, wretched one

You’ll be on the other side


Through the swampy marsh

Over the land mines

Past the naysayers

Beyond any obstacle


Someday, somehow

You’ll rejoice, where the light resides

How many more sighs

Gone are the hours of yesterday

And dawn, knocks behind the window pane

Before we let her in,

There are some matters to resolve

A worrisome heart and a pondering mind


Loud is the silence

But louder is The Voice

Beseeching and reassuring,

That we worry not about the morrow

And spare some minutes to rest


But stubborn as we are,

Owing to our human nature

We toss, turn and fret

And try to reconcile with hope,

With one question taunting, “How many more sighs, Lord ?”

Haze Art

The wretched awake

From nights of despair

The elixir bottle down to drops

There is the haze

To remind of pressing affairs

That life has seized our props

Heavy are the sighs we make

Pleading to our avengers, helpless whispers of ‘Sirs’

And by eve, the fallen tears must see the mop

CANOEING 

One went canoeing 
And the waters were gentle 
Many a man from history joined
And the waters were calmer 

One went canoeing 
To make peace for herself 
To settle unfinished business 
Then the waters were calmest 

The heart needs canoeing 
For anchored tension inflicts pain
She needs to find and make peace
To calm the turbulence in her veins 

The Bounded Lake

There is a time I cry

Tears pour out a lake

Carrying me afloat

Where grief is humming its tune

Oh the Lord knows I cry

But He sets the pastures 

That bound this lake

Green, green pastures of hope

Oh, I cry in slumber

The people, unaware

To cry, is to be strong

To cry, is to visit the bounded lake

Peace Is No Longer Abstract

omran

Peace is no longer abstract

Peace is a child covered in dust

Tossed and distressed

By the hands of war.

 

Peace rebukes in silence

Bleeds in the open

Pleads, begs

But will the world listen?

 

Peace is no longer abstract

Peace knocks on our door

Gently in chaos, once more

Look what we’ve done to peace.

 

My contribution to #PoetsforPeace

https://forgottenmeadows.wordpress.com/2016/07/16/calling-all-poetscreative-minds-to-a-grand-collaboration-poets-for-peace/comment-page-5/#comment-19287