The hill

On my morning walk,

The trees with full, lush leaves

Block the sunlight on my usual route.




So I examine the hill;

The hill that in the snow

Has paralyzed the mailtruck-

I’ve witnessed it sliding sideways

impeded by the deceptive steepness.

The hill that has tired out many a school child

Late for the bus

And parent slogging behind them -

Is today my source of sunshine, my intention.




Toes straight ahead

Shoulders back

I slow my pace just a bit

Lengthen my steps

And breathe all the way to my stomach

Up and down - a few times,

Practicing adversity.

Spring Cleaning

Spring cleaning

Sometimes means

More than

Cleaning out a closet

Sometimes your

Mind needs a

Good de-junking as well.

Kick out the company that

Stays too long,

The broken furnishings and perspectives

You always bang your knee on

As you pass,

The dusty daydreams – outdated,

Immature, overly fictionalized

Till finally there’s

Peace and you can

Hear yourself think.

And admittedly, it’s a bit quiet

In a good way.

Sonnet

since the study of Shakespeare in HS English, I've been enthusiastic about attempting to write in iambic pentameter.... so in honor of the upcoming holiday, here is my attempt at a Sonnet

How oft we speak of love, and say we love,
And live and die with each empassioned glance-
Surrendering our might and mind above
When fiery pulls of longing bid us chance.

Thus swept away in hopeful revery,
We ache with every breath and youthful sigh;
Expectant of the rapt’rous energy,
And crushed when e’er our singeing crushes die.

But is this blind attraction love’s true form?
To rob our peace, mentality at will?
Or is a love of holy kindness born -
Unearthed in routine moments, sane and still.

For wiser is the love that thus appears,
And blossoms ever sweeter through the years.

Tender Plants

Tender plants

 

It takes a bit of water

For a tender plant to grow;

A home within a pot of earth,

Or lined in furrowed row

Where dappled rays of sunshine fall

On outstretched leaves and flowers.

A bit of friendly effort keeps

Things neat between each shower.

 

So, seedlings of the human sort

With tender hearts to keep;

Need homes in loving families

To send their roots down deep,

Need parents with their outstretched arms

To help them seek the light,

And willing hands of every size

To see they grow aright.

 

If all their life is sunshine though,

They may wither, droop, and fold.

It takes a bit of rain then too,

For the growing of a soul.

Waterhorses

Waterhorses

Waterhorses kick and buck, racing to shore;
eager-
and aggressive even, with dun colored heads
and manes and tales of frothy white.
They leap ahead of one another
then dissipate, reclaimed in sea foam and current
as they reach my toes.

My horse girl loves these creatures -
arms wide, she races knee keep to meet them;
stubby braids like cut reins,
she runs unrestrained.


With equine exuberance, the water horses jump at her
spraying foam and mist in a crash of water and horse and girl.
Momentarily she is engulfed-
but it’s only a bit of friendly play among siblings of sorts;
and soon enough she leaves these companions
to canter off in chase of sea birds,
horse girl legs pounding the sand.

 

Doubt not, but be believing

So in the winter, I take a break from my typical writing projects to work on a piece of music with my very talented sister, Keri.  Love the collaborative work, since poetry can be a lonely gig sometimes:)  This year we received a request from my friend Marilyn to write a piece of music for their youth's summer trek (a 3 day recreation of the Mormon pioneers' journey West to Utah - complete with handcarts, period clothing, and dinners cooked over a campfire).  As Marilyn and I talked over ideas, and I did some research, the message that stood out for me was Doubt not, but be believing.  There are so many things that hit you as a teenager - from an increased awareness that there are some pretty bad things going on in the world, to peer pressure, to realizing your parents aren't perfect... etc.  It just makes for a difficult time, I think. 
I'm not going to post the whole song - it's not quite done - but I will post the poetry we adapted for the first verse.  Just one of those instances when it comes quickly and easily (unlike the rest of the piece:).

Though I may stand

Quietly, against vast darkness

Seemingly surrounded

The night will not prevail.

Dusky whisperings of sin

And temptation’s fiery darts

Will fail

For my Savior’s light

Radiates around me

waking and warming,

And I will follow His well-lit path.

What can separate us from the Love of God?

What can separate us from the love of God?

Can struggling children
deepening wrinkles
nagging weakness
our human errors
crippling illness
lingering resentments
grieving hearts
poor choices
poorer attitudes
discouragement
inadequacy
addiction
fear
pain
sin
disbelief
death?

No.

Lest we consider
With drawing our hand from His
And backing away
In sorrow or shame -

When He would hold us close.