I was just trying to remember the past
trying to remember the good people
and the bad people,
that i came across on my way,
i want you to know
that you are among the good people
that left a good trace in my life,
once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.
Wave a sea softened
and a pain and a tenderness
throw dreams in fascination
of the blue.
And let shave the waves of
Your eternity , oh, weigh
oh,weigh a coast of years.
Carry far in azure, spiral
with bulging little abdomens,
flutter with mahagony pinions
and already in vain expect you
to stop the scales harbours
with hot flames for You are
Far away, far away ,far away,
heart and frank await the
hymn of June.
All sea sisters are dressed in
embroidered of kiss of
In the morning hunts them
fishermen and revive with
breath of their man’s hands.
In the evening girls wash
their black tunics,
in their blue hearts,
their feet white ,who cadge
The night is squeezed enigma
predatory like a bat pecking
of scarlet fig.
Sea sisters, sea sisters,
remember His steps
which go through you noiselessly,
and ou swing like
hold in His fingers Herod,
Pilate washes his hands,
in Yours heirs
and they bristled like winter
icicles bristles of innoncent blood .
There at Golgotha
hearing terrible cry,
blood gushes like
wounded river disappear
like Easter roses,
in weeds of flushed
to open way of
Who is He?
Do you heard
His name ?
He is Messiah,
Like little sheeps,
clouds of candy floss,
they welcome festivaly.
Barefooted are feet
of lovely swarthy steps
of the sun, came to bow,
before You , Creator.
The sea throws his
magnificent silver flesh,
blue like heavently lace,
to swallow all stars
pretty like uncreated
like an apple of not
I wonder what the people thought
Who did not know the prisoner's name;
So many men had staggered by
In public solitude and shame,
What was He more than other men
Who'd walked outside the walls to die,
And those with tears who followed Him--
Do not most dead leave some who cry?
I wonder what the children thought,
Who just a few short days before
Had waved palm branches in the street,
Crying, "Hosanna, to the Lord!"
Why was the kindest man they knew,
Who understood their ways and needs,
Bearing a cross through Jerusalem
Like those who did unrighteous deeds.
I wonder what the soldiers thought
Who rudely mocked a silent king;
How many flogged and tortured so
Had never spoken anything?
Was only one of all who stood
On guard for Rome to watch Him die
Able to say with contrite heart,
"This is God's Son; He did not lie."
I wonder what the women thought,
The ones who would not hide in fear
But followed even to the cross
To watch him die through veils of tears.
Did they not know that He could take
Their dreams safely through death with Him
And on the third day rise again
Triumphant over death and sin.
I wonder what we would have thought
In our self-righteous ignorance;
What role would you or I have played,
If we had known such circumstance?
Would I have been a Pharisee,
Or just a stranger passing by,
Herod, Pilate, a Roman guard,
Or a Mary on the day Christ died?
Moments of quiet unfolding:
Quiet probing my spirit's depths,
Like a rose, petals unfolding
To drink in the dawn's sweet breath.
Quiet like the peace that lingered
O're the waters the Master stilled;
Quiet that in the tomb trembled,
Pregnant, waiting to be fulfilled.
Quiet that marched on the victor
Robbing death and defeating sin;
Quiet that stood in the garden
And shouted, "Christ risen again!"
Quiet that is the cloak wrapping
God the Father, Spirit and Son,
Before whom life's vulgar turmoil
Surrenders her tongue and is dumb.
Lord, I would be like Your own sweet Rose
When underneath the world's vain rush
I have been bruised; a wounded thrush,
Whose song is trapped within its throat,
Who cannot lift to voice one note
Its weary head and sorrow knows.
Though I be trampled 'neath the throngs
Of grasping, pleasure seeking souls
And waves of pain high in me roll,
I would be crushed in silence, deep,
That even my inmost soul would keep
And whisper not of how was wronged.
But ever, as with vengeance black,
They tramp the petals, limp and torn,
Would send forth fragrance, sweet and warm,
And bless the feet of that mad crowd,
Beneath their onslaught remain bowed
And by Your love turn hatred back.
It was Your wounding, sacred Rose,
The fragrance of Your love for me
Blown by the winds of infamy
Down from that dark hill, Calvary,
That brought Your passion home to me
And feeds the flower which in me grows.
"The Kitty and the Bunny" is a children's song, sung to the tune of "Pop! Goes the
'Round and 'round the dogwood tree
Kitty chased the Easter Bunny,
'Til Bunny tossed an egg
That broke Kitty's leg;
And Kitty cried, "This game ain't fun-ny!".
Bonus activity: Give children some crayons and paper and have them turn this poem into a comic strip. Tell them you would use four boxes for your comic strip: one showing Kitty chasing the bunny, the next one showing the bunny tossing an egg, the next showing kitty holding his paw, and the last one showing tears streaming down Kitty's face. But, tell children they can use as few or as many boxes as they like for their comic strips and even change the storyline. The dogwood tree becomes an apple tree and bunny is seen pelting Kitty with apples. Perhaps squirrels join in the fight and start throwing acorns at Kitty.
Earth's trees are pruned; men came and left
Upon their branches burning scars;
Now their arms are piteous stubs
No longer reaching for the stars.
My heart is wounded watching them,
So public is their grief and loss,
Their shame exposed, yet mute they stand:
I think of Jesus on the cross.
When I was a child, I expected lots of toys left by Santa Clause on Christmas Eve.
And planned to find an Easter Basket with candy and colored eggs every spring.
The Tooth Fairy visited when I lost baby teeth; all of those things I did believe.
I had no idea fantasia spread around by people to whom my love did cling.
When I was a teen, I began to dream a scene, eagerly awaiting my adult vista.
A boy and a girl in love, each firmly trusting the future with hopes and naivety,
Anticipating passion while cutting paper hearts decorated pink and fuchsia.
Aspiring to have a good husband, lots of money, education and a family.
When I became an adult, I struggled to find myself, my faith, my own viewpoint.
Possibilities were endless, chance and fate stepped up to life’s plate.
Decisions, sometimes blind and difficult, intruded; life had no checkpoint.
Gradually, childhood plans mutated; soon, prospects and dreams abated.
In time, I found that in the process of aging, possibilities are still endless.
Life and dreams function, not by probability, but by goals and decisions.
Achievement came at last, by finding focus and goodly principles; God is ageless.
My inner soul rejoices in freedom, with burdens lifted, I pray...in His garden.
© January 30, 2011
~My Easter Prayer~
You came into this world
A tiny baby
A king who needed no crown
Here to save all sinners
A natural born leader
You lead by example
Lived what you preached
You love all
Never judge a soul
Healing the sick
Feeding the hungry
Bringing peace and joy
You never turn anyone away
Watching over us
Even to this day
You are a good listener
You guide us on our way
In troubled times
You are always there
To carry us through
“Foot Prints in the Sand”
Sometimes we may stray
Yet you are still there
Ready to embrace us
Loving us all the same
When we ask for help
You give us what we need
It may not always be what we ask for
And we may not always understand
Yet it works out in the end
You know me inside out
I feel you with me
No matter where I am
I Love you so much
I know I don’t say it enough
In this life I have been blessed
With many more blessings to come I know
While at times I ask for so much
I have forgotten to say two simple words
That says so very much
So here I am right now to say
Thank You Lord
My Easter Prayer
A troubadour came by my house;
Beneath my window he did sing.
I'd never heard such melody
Or listened to like lyrics ring.
He sang a song I understood,
A song of love for me alone;
And , gazing through the latticed frame,
I knew that I would be his own.
The haunting strains, they wound their way,
Even before I could resist,
My heart was bound by cords of love;
Forever to his song I'd list.
"I long to follow you." I cried,
"Fair, wand'ring minstrel, gay and free;
I want to be your gypsy bride
And sing sweet songs of love with thee."
He bade me follow with a look--
A look my tongue cannot describe--
So tender that my heart leaped up.
"I'll follow you! Oh, yes!" I cried.
T was then I saw, just as I turned
To go with love forevermore,
What I had thought a laurel wreath
Was but a crown of thorns he wore.
The robe which from his shoulders hung--
It had seemed spotless, white as snow;
But, then I saw it stained with blood.
Yet, still with him I longed to go.
His feet and hands were bruised and torn;
"Oh, who had wounded one so good!"
Just then I saw the lute he played
Was but a rugged cross of wood.
"Oh, Love!" I cried, "Dear, fairest one,
Who dared to harm and hurt you so!"
And then I heard the song again...
"It was for you; did you not know?"
"For me? I do not understand;
T was just today I heard your song."
He turned to speak what now I know.
"My love," he said, "I called you long."
We sing the song together now;
Each day is but a new refrain.
Yet, still I marvel when I hear
A note of joy wrung out of pain.
I did not know when first I heard
His music calling to my heart
That love is not triumphant
Till wounded, pierced and torn apart.