Painted in a Corner #sundaydevotion #poetry

shore

always striving holding tight

no room for error failure in sight

squeezing out hope before day’s dawn

what was I thinking night lasts so long

welts of frustration fume like disease

more than downtrodden, driven to knees

no air is left a sullen choke

hot tears on my face rising in smoke

Lord please clear fog dims my path

align me with peace stem this tides’ wrath

give me somewhere solid to place one foot

and room for another for faith I will look

shake the dust away my eyes

set love like flowers its fragrance rise

I can walk not knowing where

Christ leads me onward my load he bears

*

Are there days when you feel you can’t go left or right, north or south? Neither our minds nor intuition can get us out of the corner we are painted into. Then truth filters the fog “Trust not in your ways but God’s.” I’m glad God knows the way out of life’s maze. He alone can release the choke hold that the world has on us. His love is a powerful remedy for the ailments of this life.

My son, let them not depart from your eyes—Keep sound wisdom and discretion;22 So they will be life to your soul
And grace to your neck.23 Then you will walk safely in your way, And your foot will not stumble. 

~Proverbs 3:21-23

 Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

~1 Corinthians 13: 4-7

 (KJV) Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

~John 15:13

 

Rug Beneath My Feet #poetry #art

Rug

How many rugs

placed beneath my feet

 yanked and pulled out

to watch me flail and reach

how many promises

with half heart were made

where purpose was planted

and then duly unmade

how many wells

were left to run dry

though tears were spilt

and hope ran high

how many rugs

placed beneath my feet

chose to remain

like a stable heart beat

?????????

My first “sketch” after not drawing for 4 months. I think I am less picky now that I’ve seen what my non-dominant hand can draw 🙂

Ever have that feeling that all the rugs in the world have one sinister mission?????

Merciless are the Hands of Time

Peering into the bottom of her glass

evoked a smirk

it was empty

hands of time bent

**

Looking into the sky

dreams had soared there

crashed in a wingless hulk

no future for the golden chimes

**

Grasping hands

perfunctory joy

meaningless melted failure

life’s promised sands

**

captivating laughter

floated on the air

heart climbing from the  ruin

“tick tock” mimicked beats

**

Realizing too late

the last, the sickest joke

believing for one breath

time stopped to care

This poem is in response to my friend Shay’s excellent perspective of Free Verse at which she excels. Join us at One Stop Poetry as we toot our kazoos.

Filling in the Bubble (A New Educational Standard)

I’m inspired by a conversation I recently had with a dean of a university (in the US.) He told me that children decide if they are college bound in the forth grade. Interestingly enough, that is the age I decided to go into health care and I started studying hard to become a straight “A” student.

How do we inspire this generation to learn when all they are challenged to do is learn to take tests?  We are doing a fine job in teaching children through high school how to fill in bubbles. Is that a life skill now?

I have two children who are borderline geniuses.  The way they addressed the bubble page was like a game.”How can I make my bubble sequence create a pattern or look like I was trying to answer intelligently?” They both helped keep the school’s averages up by filling in the bubble in a pretty pattern. Fortunately,my children were challenged at home to take in life, to read, to learn.

What happens to those children who have no learning standard at home from no fault of their own? There aren’t enough teachers to go around. I guess the option is to outsource our entire country to other countries. Other countries have stayed focussed with education. They have taught children to fight their way up the ladder and to achieve success by applying knowledge not mediocrity. What are we waiting for???

…a merciless and glorious place (story in 160)

I’m afraid.

It’s dark out there.

But – I know I must go.

Alone.

Entering a world of scrutiny.

What if they don’t like me?

What if I fail?

The stage is waiting.

My daughter just finished a summer musical with a local drama troupe. I’m  amazed at all the dynamics that go into a production.  The feeling when the lights are on you and a full house is waiting… The momentary thought “What if my vocal cords gave out?” The stage is a merciless and glorious place.

For more microfiction go to monkey man

Thanks to Bobster for this great shot of the Alhambra Theater in San Francisco

*http://www.flickr.com/photos/32912172@N00/4751069533

Nothing

What have I become???
I’ve wandered in my mind and soul
walked in the light of the moon
trudging now the empty dark side

the edges are angry
not seething with anger
just the placement of anger
ready to pounce at any misplaced word

a howl in the air speaks
“you have failed
it’s too late for hope
give up go away”

I look up
daring not to ask
“what is there?”
a resounding echo “nothing”

Thanks to Suzy Muse for the photo

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/suzymushu/2282285435/)