Although this year ends
and the next promises hope,
far too many can not be joyful.
They survive, just barely.
Lost jobs. Lost income.
They watch the year end
without a loved one by their side.
Let the new year begin.
Let hope live and thrive.
Bring relief. Bring safety.
Hear our prayer, oh Lord.
Help us begin anew.
Compass magnetized to truth,
lead me to serenity.
Through brazen brambles
toward path with verdant ferns,
emerald grass and sentinel trees.
Close to streams unseen but heard.
Soft swishes, trickles too,
psalms in salient tranquility.
Guide me through morass
into a land of grace.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the world. Today De is hosting and asks us to include the word “magnet” or a form of the word in our poem that is exactly 44 words, sans title. Photo taken a number of years ago on trip to see our niece in Ohio.
are the sun,
the moon, the sky
and the stars.
Sometimes harder to see
are filaments of joy.
They always hover near.
If we open our hearts
look up, look about,
we will find them.
As this morning dawns
and hope rises,
let us seek at least one.
Let us live today
with the incandescence of joy.
Previously posted and then shared on OLN at dVerse where Mish is hosting today.
Photo: dawn in Provincetown, 2019.
Moonbeams, sunbeams
smile and kindness beams,
prayer beams too.
May we collect and disperse them.
May they touch our hearts
and warm our souls,
as we tiptoe and sometimes hurdle
through these challenging times.
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. In this crazy world today, where the earth seems to have tipped on its axis and thrown us all into a time of “social distancing” and “shelter in place” orders; closed restaurants and pubs and churches and concert venues; challenged hospitals by surges and a lack of protective wear and ventilators, I offer this small prayer today.
And I am thankful for all health care workers, grocery clerks and pharmacists, truck drivers who are the backbone of our supply chain but cannot find a restaurant open on the highways they are traveling. I am thankful for dVerse, one of the few pubs in the world staying open through all of this. Hugs are encouraged in this pub…..so to all my readers and dVerse friends, consider yourself hugged today!
Sunday morning stillness,
thoughts meander.
So many blessings,
thank you, Lord.
Photo taken many years ago in Provincetown, Cape Cod.
What shall I write this early morn,
when night has barely turned to dawn?
Of hope within my soul,
to see the gull soar past
beyond my window’s pale,
toward ocean’s rhythmic shore.
Of wind chimes’ sound,
their echoes from afar.
Harmonious song
kissed aloft by breezes soft.
Drifting from mind to mouth,
‘tis a prayer upon my lips.
Tears but dew upon my cheek,
I whisper joy-stained words
thankful for every day.
It’s Open Link Thursday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poetry writers. That means you can post a poem of your choosing — no prompt today. Grace is tending the pub and invites all to stop by!
And her spirit shall live within the sea
immortality within its ebb and flow.
Ashes tossed from sandy shore catch wind,
float quietly ‘neath shifting clouds
sink, adhere to anemones
and sail on dolphin fins.
Her smile illuminates in lunar path,
glistens under golden sun.
And generations shall feel her touch
toes stepping, leaping within her waves.
There is a point in our emotional being when one crosses over to another place, even if for only a moment in time. Such was my experience last week. We happened to visit a Buddhist temple at their time of worship. Golds and deep reds dazzled my eyes as carved wooden panels, candles, supplicants and monks came into my sight line. Peripheral vision seemed to disappear. Chanting and soft rhythmic bells calmed in this mystical place. I found myself kneeling, head bowed, hands folded, sensing an other-worldness of supreme thanksgiving for life. For those few moments, I was in an inward place, so deep inside myself. Very hard to explain in words. . . and then it was time to leave. I walked out into sunlight, to talk and live, in the now and here again world I normally occupy.
mountains disappear
clouds bridge to earth as fine mist
then lift in sun’s light
Posted from Singapore for dVerse where Grace asks us to write a haibun incorporating the word “bridge.” JUST A WARNING to dVerse readers: I am traveling for 40 days. We board our ship Monday and will be at sea for two days (no internet) and then in Bali – internet questionable. This means although I may be able to write and have someone at dVerse link in for a prompt, many times I will not be able to reply to comments or read and reply to others’ poems. It is not at all because I am ignoring your poems. So–do take that into consideration on any of my future posts — except for the last five days in Sydney. I will totally understand if folks choose not to read my posts during this time. I also am operating with an iPad instead of my computer and can’t figure out how to highlight a word and link it to a URL or to make it italics – excuse the all caps. PS: Singapore has been glorious!
We pray, oh Lord, send your sun,
rays of warmth in the midst of cold.
May we awaken to beams of light,
aperture streaks in these darkest times.
Fill our hearts with compassion
that we may genuflect in hope.
Photo taken a number of years ago at a beautiful church in Tallin, Estonia.
Light me a new day, oh Lord.
Your beauty abounds
in the firmaments above
and the ebb and flow of your seas.
We give thanks for the birth of this morn,
a time to live and love.
This morning’s dawn in Provincetown, MA.
lillian the home poet 