If there were no tomorrow
I would have no sorrow
The life I have had
Has made me glad
If there were no tomorrow
I have lived on time that was borrowed
The joy of knowing
Has kept me going
The lives that have touched me
Are vaster than the seas
Every person, place, or thing
Was brought on a doves wing
For everyone that has touched my life
Was a lesson and not out of strife
For tomorrow is never promised
So live your life and be honest
Every second, of every day
We always have time and pause to say
The words, laughter, and memories
Could fill a book for centuries
It has always been my nature to live through a pen. I have never known my feelings until they formed into poetry. And I fear memory will never be enough to keep a record of every heartbeat. So it only makes sense that I want to immortalise you in verse. I want to find a metaphor that captures the way my heart waves in my chest. When you say my name, I want to fill a book with your smile. I want to write a poem that rivals your beauty, but I don't think I could. You are irrelevant, holy, and indescribable, and our love is too expansive to fit on a page. I could call you the ocean, but you are also the moon, the beach, and the sun. I could call you a star, but you are an entire constellation, the entire night sky, the entire universe, and more. I could call you an angel, but you are Heaven and Earth and everything in between, so I will call you what I've dreamed of and hoped for my whole life. I will call this safety. I will call this home. I will call this love. and I will pretend it is enough.
Oh, fluffy little midget mine,
how innocent you look.
But your many crimes have crossed a line
so often it would fill a book.
From toe-beans so very cute,
attached, are those murder mittens.
No one would ever think you a brute.
Evil cats grow from sweet kittens .
I took you home with thoughts of love
wafting through the air.
But now I have to wear a glove
just to brush your hair.
There you lie upon your back
inviting a sweet caress.
But if I do , then you attack ,
leaving me a bloody mess.
What happened to the kitten, so sweet,
I brought home on that long ago day.
Now with those razors on your feet
you keep us all at bay.
Good and upright is the Lord
Thus He shows sinners the way
He guides the humble to justice
He teaches the humble his way Psalm 25:8-9
About a year ago
Life began to change
My son at College came home
For spring break
Was extended
You’ll go back after Easter
We confidently predicted
He didn’t know
Of course
No one did
No one went anywhere for nine months
That was just a small part of it
Each one of us could probably fill a book with how this has impacted us
Directly and Indirectly
I don’t know about you
But the great lesson of this time for me is echoed by the psalmist:
Humility
No, I’m not in control
I can’t predict what will happen next
Any confidence
Any hope can’t come out of my power
But what didn’t and never will change
God
Present
Guiding
Teaching
Showing me the way
God of wisdom and strength
I stand humbly before You
Open to your wisdom
Ready for Your grace
Amy Welborn
Turned to Poetry by :Jac R. M.
Date: 2282021
Poetry Form: Free verse
The hands of our parents are wrinkled and worn,
Tell a story of the years each of us were born.
A life full of giving, caring, and work
Yet the knowledge they hold could each fill a book.
The children they have raised and loved thru the years
Dan, Sandy, Linda, Janet and Stan all have brought cheers.
All 16 Grandchildren have been loved, held and rocked
By the hands of our parents, welcoming them to their flock.
The 29 Great Grandchildren have brought them such joys
To the strong hands of our parents that even made toys.
So each wrinkle and brown spot they so proudly wear
Tells a story of history they have been here to bear.
The hands of our parents show the love of us all
And every wrinkle they wear proud and tall.
I have this desire
To write and inspire.
But would the world open its ears and listen
When most of my life has already been written?
What about my life could possibly be said
To make it worthy of being read?
Sexually abused by a family friend,
These were dark times that seemed to have no end.
Raped and verbally abused,
This was a life I didn’t choose.
As a third grader I was obsessed with my mortality.
My mother had a severe hoarding tendency.
My father was physically there, but emotionally absent.
I possessed a strong fear of peer judgment.
Drugs and alcohol littered my street.
Strangers became the only people I’d meet.
I saw men bleed until their last breath.
I’ve felt the sting of a premature death.
I saw evil on a daily basis.
I became just a number in a social worker’s cases.
I feared I’d be called a liar.
It was a constant battle to keep my head held higher.
The stories of my life could fill a book,
But would anyone bother to take a look?
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