Poem | |
Nervous as a harried hen, Mom was in a dither
Would wedding guests be kept away by the winter weather?
My cheeks so rosy from the sting of howling, bitter winds
White lace and pearls, car door opened and a young girl stepped within
Fresh mums adorned the altar of “Our Lady by the Sea”
Blue bridesmaid angels led the way; John waited lovingly
Vows exchanged as God smiled down, crystal kisses danced in air
The reception band played merrily, all invited were there
Many guests remarked they’d never seen a happier bride
At midnight John took my ring-adorned hand, we ventured outside
Snow drifts piled ‘round the cars, Great Nor’ Easter just ending
My mate high on love (and champagne), wheels on highway spinning
Pulling into a gas station, trying to get a grip
Still in my bridal gown as the dipping temperatures nipped
The station attendant ran out and smiled, he’d seen us reel
But we were laughing and trading places behind the wheel
My tipsy spouse in a tux, truly a sight to behold
When we reached our new home, I carried HIM o’er the threshold'
For John's "Winter" contest
Poem | |
I followed you from Galilee
To that sad day on Calvary
Of love You spoke
New hope You woke
Some said I was a prostitute
In me You saw no ill repute
My heart now cries
I watch You die
Sharp spikes that pierce Your hands draw blood
And through my heart emotions flood
A Son so blessed
Is laid to rest
Three days I stayed outside Your tomb
Never to see You I presumed
And though I mourned
I genuflect and watch You rise
To join Your Father in the skies
This blessed day
Showed us “The Way”
The sacrifice You made for man
Celebrated in many lands
Give thanks and pray
Written in the first-person view of Mary Magdalene, one of Christ’s best known
disciples. According to modern religious scholars, the Gospels of Mark and John say
she was the first person to see Jesus after he rose from the dead.
Poem | |
Friday, I see the wounds and bow my head
I find no peace in the life I've led
There were no victories nor battles won
Oh Father, You gave us Your only Son
Saturday, there is an ache I bear
As I hit my knees in tearful prayer
So many times I've tried and fell
Praying forgiveness, deserving Hell.
Sunday, I cry out from my man made prison
I look to the tomb, but He is Risen
I praise our Lord for this Glorious Day
For all my sins have been washed away
Poem | |
Tears of joy streak down
My dust covered face
As I just wandered by and witnessed
The utmost glorious grace
Just three days ago
I watched them crucify
The son of God himself
The man called Jesus Christ
They poked him with their spears
Wet his tongue with a vinegar sponge
Nailed him to a tree
And taunted “you’re not God’s son.”
He hung there ‘til he died
From his side water did drop
They buried him in a tomb
Where today I had to stop
Past three days the door was covered
A large stone placed there that day
But, today as I walked by
An angel rolled it away
He had kept his promise
Only 3 days would he lay dead
To forgive us all our sins
And, I believed in what he said
He glided out of the tomb
As if floating in the air
“Do not be afraid” he said,
With gentle love, and care
He represents new life
And all the wounds he can heal
Is Easter day your resurrection?
Can Jesus Christ be your shield?
I weep to think of the pain
He endured for you and me
So he could take away our sins
And one day, set us free!
By: Miranda Lambert
For: Gwendolyn Rixs’ contest: What easter means to me
Poem | |
A is for Annie Apple Blossom she buds in the Spring.
B is Betty Baby Breath she's such a dainty thing.
C is for Miss Candy Tuft pink-cheeked with hair of gold.
D is Debbie Dandelion who never does what she's told!
E is for Easter Lily she's as white as snow.
F is Francie Fairy Bells who ring-a-lings where she goes.
G is for Ginny Gardenia perfumed oh so sweet.
H is Holly Hocks a Tomboy, she has two left feet!
I is for Inca Lily dressed in colors light.
J is Joanie Jump-Ups, Johnny's little sister bright.
K is for Katie Kangaroo Paw her nails are painted red.
L is Lila Lady Slipper who stays too long a bed.
M is for Merry Morning Glory dressed in pale blue.
N is Nancy Narcissus who trumpets ""toodeloo!"
O is for Olivia the Ox-Eyed Daisy dolly.
P is Patty Petunia, her pancakes are a folly.
Q is for Queenie Anns Lace her dresses all have ruffles.
R is Ruby Rose-a-lee who almost always shuffles.
S is for Sandy Snap Dragon tall and thin. petite.
T is Tallulah Tulip her clothes are so off beat!
U is for Uma Umbrella Flower, sweet and sunny.
V is Vicky Violet she plays with Easter bunnies.
W is for Wendy Water Lily she'd rather swim than dance.
X is Xana Xmas Tree in Winter she's entrancing.
Y is for Yani Yarrow, a girl so bonny fair
Z is Zelda Zinnia, she pinning Yani's hair.
All our girls are fine and strong, so beautiful and brave
Not a single one of them would think to misbehave!
Bio: Wise woman.
Poem | |
The Happy Field and Spring Shower
Hand in hand, we fluttered like two butterflies
among the fragrant flowers of the field
and meandered, singing songs, along a stream.
No agendas to keep to; no schedules to curtail
the pure pleasure that we took
in consuming every lovely hour of our Saturday.
With our picnic lunch, we sat down on a blanket.
Later we lay looking up at clouds.
Transported to the wonderland of our imagination,
we named them fluffy mountain ranges,
bunnies, sheep, and Easter lily petals
until they morphed into lopsided bearded faces,
huge white polar bears and cotton-breathing dragons.
Unexpectedly, the clouds grew dark, and suddenly,
we saw and felt large raindrops splatter on our skin.
We fled our happy field, arriving home - two children,
wet and laughing, just as the spring shower let up.
How were we to know in the springtime of our lives
that the field and the rain from which we fled
I’d one day write about as metaphors for youth.
Written for the Spring Showers contest 3/30/13
Poem | |
in the sun
The skin became the bark of a tree
the soul turning to brittle scars
for uncaring worlds to see.
is a pile of
old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
in the sun
the mind has smoothed over
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place
where watercolors swirled all day,
the heartworms kept at bay.
I'll stay hidden within the briar,
till the jewels of memories sooth
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
...stayed in the sun
Poem | |
After planking some wood,
I carried it across the yard,
two boards at a time upon my shoulders.
When I finished erecting the stack of wood,
she offered a refreshing sip from her cup
and nailed me harder than Jesus had been.
(the irony of the wood and nails didn't escape me)
I figure this to be a great tradition to uphold
during the Easter holidays:
the wood and nails,
riding a divine ascension into heaven
upon her thighs.
And on the third day
he rose again
*This is referring to the hybridization of Easter as decreed by Constantine,
and the pre-existing Ishtar celebration of sex and fertility.
Ishtar is the root-origin of the word: Easter.
If you were to ask me, I'd say that Constantine attempted ruining a good thing.
It is one of my many life goals to help resurrect feel-good Pagan celebrations such
as the Ishtar Spring Festivities.
If one has a willing lover, this celebration is easy to partake in,
and can be most pleasurable: simply plank some wood and start nailing.
A sustained rhythm is highly advisable when engaging in a good session of nailing.
Happy Ishtar/Easter Holy Days!
Poem | |
Mother would tuck into each dresser drawer,
a bar of soap, to scent the clothes..
The familiar fragrance of English Lavender would fill the air
The small bedroom, a bit cramped..a bit shabby, but comfortably familiar.
The faded chintz curtains and the cover on the four poster, was a primrose yellow...
and the wallpaper striped in blue and white.
There would be marguerite daisies in a jug on the dressing table..
Next to a framed photo of five, smiling young cousins..
all scrubbed, with shining faces, dressed for church, one Easter morning.
Over on the north wall hung a painting of Willowby Pond...
so pleasant to look at, just before falling to sleep.
Here I stand once again, having things so familiar, so much the same
I take a deep breath, recalling the sense of home, the fragrance of lavender
Like slipping into an old pair of slippers,
after spending the day wearing high heeled shoes
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Poem | |
the pearls from your eyes
are far more precious to me
than any treasure
your big sacrifice
nothing more to compare with
you’re my great hero
I owe you my life
mom, my heart melts when you cry
your tears: pearls of love
that’s the greatness of your love
in you, I feel God
mom, I’m so sorry
sometimes, I make you lonely
but you’re dear to me
you bear all the pains
pearls of great love on your cheeks
every drop, I’ll kiss
for I do believe
you want only the best for me
all your pray’rs and wish
thank you so much mom
those pearls of great mother’s love
be kept in my heart
you’re my only mom
replaceable by no one
comfort and best friend
my ardent prayers
may you live long in this world
may God gives you strength
March 24, 2013
This poem was conceived both from the “Pearl” theme and one of my possible adorable picture themes of my latest contest, “Mother’s Love”- merged into one.
It is also composed with the inspiration of all mothers in this world. You’re indeed the greatest heroes/heroines! I am so proud of you! I lovingly dedicate this poem to you dear mothers and friends! Big hugs to all of you! Of course, I include especially my loving/dearest mom who’s my greatest inspiration, refuge and best friend.
This poem can also bring to us a message for this Easter Season as we remember Mother Mary who’d suffered much seeing her loving son Jesus Christ’s great sufferings on the cross at Mt. Calvary- a mother’s great love to her child indeed!
HAPPY EASTER SEASON TO ALL!
Contest: Any Poem Goes
Sponsor: My Greatest Poet and sis PD