Mothers Day

Only now so many years have swiftly tailed away,
I lift my head and rest my gaze on scenes of yesterday.
I realize now, the love you spent was not a cruel blow,
but spent in cherishment, and hope that you would see me grow.
To love a little is to lose. To love a lot is hard.
I know I spent so many years, beleiving I was scarred.
But through your love you freely give,
a chance for me to live.
A newer life, self sacrificed, for in Him I am hid,
from all the pain of former years, my life is freed to give.
And now my son, my cherished one,
my child yet to come,
my gorgeous wife and blissful life,
three gifts given your son.
For you it was, taught me the hope,
that only in Christs love,
would I ever find, fulfilling life,
and a Father, Him above.

True artistry

A picture painted in still water
speaks clarity framed by the puddles edge.
But should the wind ruffle it's surface,
this picture is not broken,
it is changed, fragmented.
We see it now with new eyes.
Even the frame may change as it laps upon the shore.
But this is not corruption.
No, rather this is a new image
and with its own beauty,
it is seen in newness.
All variations of God's creation are masterful
and in every change, true artistry.
Do not look at creation and allow yourself chaos and corruption,
rather, look on perfection that in every alteration,
speaks of Him.

A mighty man

A barren plain surrounds,
great warriors abound.
But none brave?
No.
None have strength through faith.

A mighty man steps forth,
the crowds part in answer.
A stone slowly starts its oscillation,
seeking... finding,
the stone goes forth as the spear is raised,
a warrior swings high his arm to strike.
His focus blurs, not fast enough to follow.
Pain... and his spirit fails.
The ground shudders...
silence.
A mighty man steps forth to gain the crown,
a nation roars in affirmation.
A nation shatters upon the rocks.
Together they are the sound and motion of great waters
that break upon the shore of Israel crying...
'David has slain his tens of thousands'.

Freindship

Why. Why, when I had tried so hard,
was my attempt so failed?
A word so quietly spoken.
A meaning softly veiled.
My utterance had been to lift
another’s spirits higher.
The thoughts I had,
the words I spoke,
to this end did conspire.
And yet I thwarted,
now aghast sit still in wonderment.
My meaning so intent on care,
now sullen sits thus spent.
Do I now try to rectify, to show,
that though my words so stumbled,
I chose to be here now.
It was my will, my choice, my joy
to be here for my friend.
Of course I know, I’ll not allow,
for it this way to end.
Of course I know I cannot help,
to try again to speak,
such words of comfort that I can,
to somehow bring you peace.
For Christ has given me new life
and though you may not know it,
my love for you that day I died,
increased.
I hope,
I pray,
I show it?

Rain Rain...

Rain thunders its repetition,

pounding the receiving surface.

A storm encapsulated, breaks on impact,

from one drop, flooding, drenching.

Poplar blossom dusts the sky
with silver dabs and fleeting strokes,
caressing depths of shady blue.
A gentle swash, a feathered stroke.
The soft dance of swaying boughs
awash in springs sweet scented breeze.
Dancing dappled daubs of honey light,
flicker cross the silver bark.
Wildly dances...
...a tree entranced by spring.

Whose kingly palms, hot in anticipation
have been calmed,
by the cool roughness of this stony face.
Whose noble mind,
has been set in its resolve,
by the solidity of this seemingly, immovable rock.
Time itself, exudes from this stone of kings,
witness to the splendour of bygone ages
and their majestic coronations.
Now the cool, hard granite face,
brings a sense of history to this thriving city,
awash with new cultures.
Forgotten by the young.
Remembered as in passing, by those whose path is measured.
Put away in a corner,
it continues its legacy,
as a witness in the hands of father time.
As true as the steadily flowing rivers,
whispering past,
never changing pace for a new day,
but remaining, constant.
Out living.
Out lasting.
Ever watching.