Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
I wanted to title this “The Night We Ate Tacos & Nobody Got Hurt.” Read on to find out why. Family gatherings around life events are often joyous, emotional occasions; wedding preparations definitely take the cake when it comes to lots of Big Feelings. Mix the mother of the groom, the father of the bride,…
Years and miles evaporate like the season’s new-birthed fog, leaving the strong, bright gleam of friendship lighthouse true. Holding true like the trees weathered through decades of sun as we weathered our own wearying waves of life, lapping at the edge of our friendship, threatening to erode the years of tears and laughter, the space and…
The weekend of October 16-18, 2016, was a Heaven-come-to-earth occasion at ‘Dwell’, an intimate Writer’s Retreat co-led with my friend Kimberlee Ireton. We ‘Glory Writers’ camped in Psalm 37 for the weekend, particularly verses 3-7, and meditated on all those verbs–‘Trust’ ‘Delight’ ‘Commit’ ‘Rest’ and the tough-to-do ‘Fret not.’ My paraphrase of the definition of…
“My soul, wait silently for God alone; for my expectation is from Him.” Psalm 62:5 “How slow many are to learn that quietness is blessing, that quietness is strength, that quietness is the source of the highest activity–the secret of all true abiding in Christ! Let us try to learn it and watch out for…
“The heart has its own time. How incredibly fleet are the happy hours, and how leaden slow the sad ones. The clock cannot hurry the sorrowful minutes a jot, nor clip the wings of the joyous ones!” Gladys Taber, Stillmeadow Seasons When I was twelve years old I ran away. Well, not literally; I just…
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…
“What if there were no poetry? What if all life were prose? Some people wouldn’t mind. One friend told me her son didn’t know how to do imaginative play. He lined up his action figures and then shrugged and walked away. He didn’t know what else to do. Poetry gives you an idea of what…
Thirsty, thankful heartsraised, open cups heldaloft, receive the joy of songand words,healed in the hearing. We ferry the preciousbounty via voice andtone, conduits of the balmthat is the bounty of praise,pouring into vessels,empty to be filled. Parched lips receivethe draught and splash inthe glory drops, wash inthe words, bask inthe golden sound as it channelslife…
The eyes of the world have been watching Arab refugees pour into Europe the last several months. Fear has fueled many of the reactions of folks across the continents as there has been talk and concern about the people flooding Europe–they are Muslims and could therefore possibly be terrorists. Because of this fear many countries…
I pour lemon oil onto my dust rag, massaging the small table’s worn and chipped surface. No amount of elbow grease or lemon oil will cover up the wear and tear–scuffs from an old plant container, water rings from one too many glasses of iced tea, the solitary black circle from a dropped cigarette. Simply…