Poetry
For the days when you feel surrounded by the darkness of the world, here is a love poem of hope to brighten your day.
Even if the stars fall from the sky and wither like grass their twinkly light gone broken like glass Even if the moon falls into the sea and the sun runs away and the sky is dark every moment, every day Love will still shine in a world where twinkly stars fall Love will light the way because Love conquers all
This is a poem about the heaviness of world issues, the weight of the world’s problems, and a world in sadness. Feel what you feel, ask hard questions, and keep going.
Sadness has swallowed my words and clouded my vision. My world feels gray and wet colorless and drippy like a runny nose. We all feel it. The whole world is under a dark cloud these days. Sadness seeps deep into the cracks of every city, rolls into the folds of the rural landscapes. How long must we sit in heaviness oppressed and distressed the feathers of hope camouflaged in the gray? If we reach out hands stretched blindly sweeping back and forth as we plod through the mist, would we touch the hidden glory? Could we bump into solid rocks and cling to them awhile? Can we find each other in darkness? Maybe we can breathe in bits of joy. Would we feel the healing balm, the oil of gladness in the middle of all the smoke and mirrors? What would make everything right again?
Encouragement for Work - You Can Do This sometimes the shortest week is the hardest week sometimes every day feels like monday but you are more than your work days you are bigger bolder stronger longer than any problem hardship conflict task list you are the head not the tail you are above not beneath anything that life throws at you today
May this poem lift you up and allow you to find beauty and perspective in every storm.
Oh, the beauty the power the majesty in the arms of a summer storm! Let it lift you high above yourself let it show you something bigger wider larger than life let it give you the joy of seeing knowing witnessing being alive! Let it change you rearrange you broaden your perspective let it recharge you refresh you and finally let it bless you as it sets you down to earth.
The train whistle is sharp, piercing the morning ritual of the awakening world, drowning the greetings of birds, overpowering the sleepy sun. Yet, within minutes it is over, this harsh interlude imposed on morning's grace. The whistle fades, the rumblings and churnings gradually quiet, the earth settles, the stillness returns. Birdsong rises in beauty, even lovelier than before, made perfect in the wake of human's roar. Our passing through is brief, but our days are renewed each morning.
“Not Enough” – this poem is for all the times you struggle with everything you think you are NOT.
There's a big ball of NOTs in my chest a tangled list of all that I am NOT but when I surrender the NOTs to the great I AM He shows me all that I am in Him
"And those who know Your Name put their trust in You, for You, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You." ~ Psalm 9:10 ESV
Beauty grows in the ordinary, yes, but beauty also grows in unexpected places. This poem is for all of us, stuck in the traffic of life, needing to reroute. There are surprises off the beaten path!
We were stuck in traffic on the interstate, hours away from home, inch by inch we crawled, minutes ticked into an hour, until finally we were able to exit and take an alternate route, driving along unfamiliar back roads, through small towns with crumbling buildings, collapsed structures that reeked of neglect and poverty... and then we made a pit stop, a shabby gas station in a broken down town we found treasure not made of gold. The employees were light in a gloomy space. They laughed and bantered and welcomed. The cashier smiled warmly at us, an unforced rhythm of grace. She exuded life. It floated from her pores and touched everything, everyone around her, lifting spirits, relaxing shoulders, coaxing smiles. Flowers grow from cracks in cement. Colorful blossoms dance along roadside ditches, and beauty grows in backroad gas stations, where light shines like a beacon of hope.
Experience this moment as birds fly high, so high they seem to touch the clouds, their wings skimming the cottony tufts, while down below my neighbor piddles, the tinkering of tools drifting above the soft country music. Consider this moment as the sweet scent of hay drifts across the fields tickling my nose, the nicker of horses delighting my ears, while a bicyclist spins past me with a nod and a smile, pedals singing as they whirl and twirl. It's the little things in this moment... insignificant, seldom acknowledged, often unnoticed, or quickly forgotten, these little things in this moment are solid ground, forming the foundation of a good life.
Cutting Grass – How To Mow When It Rains Every Day is especially for nature lovers who enjoy poems about the adventures of man against nature!
I step outside to smell the grass freshly cut sweetly fragrant. Lawnmowers growl and prowl the neighborhood trimming whopping chopping blade upon blade ferociously devouring the luscious carpet before the next rain. We are in a wet season punctuated by glaring bursts of sun relentless heat driving an overgrowth of green backyards turning into fields of wildness heavy cutting equipment bogging in the saturated earth. Today the ground is firm enough to withstand the mowers. The clouds are withholding raindrops, like mothers gathering their young for one more embrace one last kiss before opening the gates to let them run free raining joyously in a summer frenzy. "Hurry, hurry," coax the tractor cowboys, urging their machines onward for one last round as the dust kicks up and the trees laugh and sway and the clouds clap with thunder cheering their children in wonder. The riders dismount shoulders slump in defeat. Engines fall silent as rain drums a beat. The raindrop children have come out to play. The man-made machines are done for the day.
I woke to the sound of a hard summer rain, the kind that cracks your window pane and makes you want to go back to sleep and sink beneath the covers deep. Just five more minutes let me stay in bed, just a few more seconds let me cover my head. Darkness presses where light should be, rainfall thunders a melody. It's the kind of day I just want to stay wrapped in my thoughts without shoulds or oughts. But Brownie's at my door, my sweet little pup, she's the one thing that can make me get up!
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