Grant me use of your hues, mysterious creator. Lend me sight of soothing blue, sound of vibrant red, and feeling of passionate green. Tint my world with all the flavors of your rainbow, then set me free to play amid the swirling colors of joy.
Poetry: Moments as Words
I am a philosopher-poet or pretend to be, whilst I amuse myself with thought. Here you can find some of my ponderings that have become words. Click on a title in the right-hand menu to change which poem is displayed. New titles are this color. (Some of these poems may appear elsewhere, as well.)
When the storm was wildly blowing,
And waves crashed hard upon the shore,
Darken clouds were set to glowing,
As lightening flashed deep in their core.
A voice of doom, was heard calling,
Amid the gloom, thunder brawling,
That sent shivers, like a mauling,
As the torrent fierce and growing,
Poured down rivers, deluge falling,
Obscuring hope for ever more.
Those lost amongst that frightful gale,
When cold and drenched and stripped of pride,
Found even brave hearts start to fail,
And prayed for shelter from the tide.
When from nowhere, out of the night,
A sign of care came shining bright,
Your beacon high above the fright,
Promised warmth, a respite from hell,
"Salvation's nigh", proclaimed your light,
"Welcome to lost souls; Come inside!"
Often meager, your haven stayed,
Yet rich in spirit and full of love,
Offering a peace to those waylaid,
By tribulations, and above,
The compassion you had to share,
In a fashion without compare,
Was your giving and sincere prayer,
To bless those most needful; you made,
All those living in your sweet care,
See the power of God's true love.
Love is your legacy and gift,
It came boundless and flowed so free,
Never devoured by a rift,
Dreaming instead of joys to be.
Always giving all that you could,
Claims your living was full and good,
Helping the stray when no one would.
Under such burdens souls must lift,
There's no delay, as heaven should,
Embrace this angel ever free.
Note: This poem was written as a tribute to my sister. The last stanza is an acrostic, spelling out her name at the time of her death (third marriage).