How does the hymner sing of God's measureless love through quadruplets-
Fine craftsman of fields, flowers, fountains of water, mountains, and sun-
Who practiced self-denial, till blood sweat, for the honor of thieves
apportioning second chances like sweet nectar while He came undone?
Why does the scribe pen his worship to the Universal Maker,
Compiling pages of effusive love notes for an unseen King?
Unobserved by open eyes but recognized by insightful hearts
Heeding courtship calls from Christ, Saviour sweet, at the threshold tapping.
Where does the artist conceive sweet lines, hues that tell wondrous tales-
delicate replicas of the Creator, thoughts color their veins-
as prismatic as rainbows post turbulence and wuthering days,
so silver linings laid on canvas sprinkle joy for hearts to sail?
When do dancers slip from guarded grace to ungirded ecstasy?
In the sweet echoes of a recent heartbeat or laughing babies,
bustling birdy melodies auguring spring's blessed revival?
I shall sharpen my grand jetés for Jesus' triumphant arrival.
Categories:
apportioning, christian, creation, good friday,
Form: Rhyme
Spring has arrived with warmer days
And newness everywhere.
Fruit trees are donning spring-time dress,
The apple, plum and pear.
Spring will just get nicely settled in,
When Summer moves her on.
Summer brings the sun in hotter mode
To assure that Spring is gone.
Fall topples Summer from her throne
With her strong winds cold and brash,
Summer packs her bags and waves goodbye.
Cold winds give her a rash.
Winter has waited patiently
For others to have their due.
With winter games and holidays,
She makes a statement too.
Each season has its devotees
And her own special charms,
With careful apportioning for each one,
Right amount of cold or warm.
4/4/16
Categories:
apportioning, seasons,
Form: Quatrain
What structure resides
For the apportioning of Love?
What do plastic cards and love
Have in common?
Maybe I can save on output
And get more cost effective returns
My actions are cold, vacant
The windows fog as I stare ahead
Yellow
Red
Green cellphone circuits
To forge intimacy
Circuits I speak
Words flood before I dial
I'm searching for Love
How can this be?
Statistics are miserly
She threw her heel
In anguish
That another woman had loved me
Both were fleeting
Like hurricanes
My brother filed a contract
He wanted Love like a fixture
And became a Lawyer
I'm just a vagabond
The trees speak to me
And I fling wishful ideals
That love could ever last
Categories:
apportioning, lovelove,
Form: Free verse