Land, sky and sea, sing their songs.
Land sings of rich soil, for growing seeds;
as the silvery sea,
sounds its gurgling waters.
It sings a medley to the blue
And cloud-puffed sky.
I lend my ears to that cloud-puffed sky;
listening to its songs.
At first, it makes me feel blue,
but joy quickly fills my heart-seed;
fed by spiritual rain-waters;
that ride the winds from the heavenly seas.
The wondrous, singing sea,
sings back to sky
and I enjoy the waters;
singing those sweet songs,
to the seeds in the soil and to seeds
like me, who get the blues.
As the sky of blue,
sings to the seas
and my seeds;
they stretch leaves to sky
and its wonderful song
intermingles, with that of the waters.
All seeds need water,
to relieve their thirst-blues.
I hum along with the songs,
that ride my souls seas
as they crescendo with heavenly sky’s;
to quench the thirst, of all Gods seeds.
I am a proud seed;
I drink spirit’s waters;
am nourished by Heaven’s sky,
of sacred blue
and silvery seas.
I am grateful for those songs.
I listen to the songs, that nourish all of God’s seeds.
I thank the Earth and seas for their generous, cleansing waters.
No longer do I feel blue and like my plants; I am also grateful to the Heavenly sky.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014
Joy cannot be raised as though it ride the back of a song.
It is a gift and for that we should laud the giver with praise.
The heart races into overdrive as the mind fills with wonder.
Our physical and vocal constraints suddenly are unbound.
The mind and senses suddenly to a higher plane are lifted
and our reactions no longer seem to need a leap of faith.
When we walk the aisle to say “I do”, we do consider faith.
I seem to recall such feelings of humility, my body in song,
in tune with the lilt of the moment and the suppressed lift,
of the shout building within me. I offer ever lasting praise,
of the promise of one walking to me, to He whom I am bound.
As, in unison, all who watched us say I do, approve in wonder.
They remember their own vows, their own time of wonder.
I remember standing before the observation room in faith,
promising Him that if only this little babe not yet bound
to me, already powerfully making my heart burst to song,
were only normal, I would raise him to give Him all praise.
I loved the smell of baby powder, as the blanket was lifted.
Days at our beach house, a respite which always was a lift,
from the day to day routine of work, was always wonderful.
To be able to walk on the beach and stand in awe and praise,
knowing that the sun would rise and tide would fall in faith,
as the sand dabs hid and the seagulls surround them in song,
the power is in Him Who made the earth and to Him is bound.
One cannot be a true southerner and not be honor bound,
to explore the beauty of the Blue Ridge; to smell the lift
of air rising from the basin gently through long leaf singing,
on the outcrop above, as the eagle circles in wonderment.
Exploring Chimney Rock and crawling through with faith,
the Devil’s Kitchen, giving such surroundings due praise.
How could one possibly contain and not express praise,
for such intricate beauty, surely every man is duty bound
to seek out and enjoy beautiful things which speak of faith,
those simple vibrant things which give life a joyous lift.
We need those things which fill us with so much wonder,
we feel our nerves tingle, our skin crawl, and heart sing.
A Life devoid of giving praise, never feels the spirit lift.
If threads of doubt are bound, life can be filled of wonder.
Life can produce such faith, our being delights in song.
My words are: sing, praise, wonder, bound, lift, faith
© 26 Nov 2010 For Deb's "Joy to the World"contest
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2010