I’ve Been Asking

Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶

Many corners of the interwebs are echoing Jesus-followers to be more intentional about pauses in our busy days and find a Sabbath rest. In this season of my life it is more and more difficult to engage in such a practice. However, I woke up the other morning and heard, “find Me in the In-Between”,…
Sir spider suspended, still but for the invisible jarring of his aerial abode. Does it frighten him to be held by strength he cannot see, to scuttle across the sky, limb to leaf knowing the opposite anchored end could detach in a blink? Still he spins in space, hovers across my path while I dodge and…
Friends and family leave words on screens and phone lines, dropping voices and laughter like golden pendants rippling across the surface of my morning. Bookends of baking–pies first and the turkey last– include potatoes, The Green Bean Casserole and sweet potatoes in between. Chimes outside echo on the warm wind of a rare November day,…
Lovely Lydia dipped cloth in indigo dye, dressing royalty in the Kingly color of the day. I am wrapped today in color of another hue~ scarlet red~ covering me in impossibly laundered linens purchased by the Savior King who died descending into darkness, bursting forth in a blaze of Color That is Not– Purest White.
Something has been said about “writing down the bones” which sounds like a good practice if you’re learning anatomy. But the first time I heard the phrase, I thought it was “writing down the poems,” So I am. Writing down the poems moving my bones, the ligaments lightly holding the pen– black on paper, blue,…
Hanan Samuel Collins, Age 8 Multnomah Falls, OR I wrote this poem on the January day in 2003 when my first grandson, Hanan Samuel, was born. Your birth today unequivocally proved that science still can do nothing at explaining the miraculous. The day you came into the world the…