Long Generously Poems
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Line of inquiry: fact or fiction? what does it mean in actuality, to be touched by spirit?
in the prolonged whisper of grace,
dewy sweetness, falling like trembling waves
across the moments, through the haze
misty dreams burning,
blessing the shadows with grace
breaking through the hesitant embrace
peace, comforting the days
hope, healing the silence – amazed
I feel the beautiful of a soul who senses
His grace, mystifying, musical, mild
as yesterday’s fated maze
a history of love who bleeds through
every fear, each tear, all the years
before I knew how it feels, the beauty
reminding me how sure this feeling speaks
singing in spite of grief
growing wise and warm and wild
like the tenderness of a poet
who finds the reason for His presence
in the air, on the heart, over the soul
where every part of the light spreads
concealing the notes, senses
unfolding and growing, glowing
across the hills – mountains thrilling
electrified by the angel’s melody
enchanting and enlightening,
concealing all the anxieties, the faded folds
of a sincerity, soothing – serenity
in spirit’s speech,
love like this is more than the reason
gestures of what it means
to give generously, and humbly
with a hand laden with hope
a heart bursting with truth
a soul full of promise… it’s love
the spirit’s song, on wings who flow
amid the sensations of grace
far more alive than destiny’s light
far more wonderful than I can find
in the memories, the moments
blended into the quiet spaces
where I see Him,
His light glowing softly
unfading as the glistening
of a star strewn heaven,
more potent than the serenity
found in His sweet presence.
He is love
He is peace
He is grace
and I believe
He is more than words can breathe
He is more than tears can weep
He is more than just a sense of home
He is the home that I’ll always keep
He is the home where love is so sweet
He is the home where I linger and believe
my destiny is found in such gentle peace
my purpose is known – with Him
I’ll forever be… living, not just a dream
but the life that God intended for me!
I remember that well
The poisoned water within
My stomach churns at the thought of its drink
It's been cleaned, or so I'm told.
I can taste its metallic memory
Involuntarily I retch
Shudder.
Can I drink blissfully again
When each glass brings suspicion of death?
Would I chose ignorance?
Is fear so unreasonable?
Shall I suffer instead my thirst?
Parched, shall I instead choose sand?
Licking the dust from my teeth whilst I watch
Ice clinking, water cold and refreshing as it's
Poured, generously, freely, without cost...
But is it a trap? A mirage?
A cruel trick?
Can you ever enjoy the cool, clear water
Once you've tasted the poisoned well?
Something exceptional in this
world of written words we once shared
Minutes turned into hours spent
opened hearts soon had cared
Consequences meaningful or
at least they were to me
Nights you spent in my dreams,
from you I could not be free
Craved your music evermore,
your voice did not deceive
Knowing the gentle touch of our
lips would be heaven to receive
Special moments scribbled back and
forth left an everlasting impression
Ultimately accomplished only
left me to then question
Still generously and unhesitatingly
I relaxed walls I built
Realizing the extraordinary
good fortune not guilt
When you left soon my words
lost meaning soon it was unveiled
Tidal volume of pain within
me as i then exhaled
Unique love unlikely,
possibilities were now dismissed
Leaving me heartbroken,
dagger in my chest as you twist
He’s alive inside me, where my heart beats
I feel His love guiding me through it all
There is never a question that I yearn to ask
That He doesn’t answer with a tenderness
That helps me feel reassured of His compassion
He always offers His hand to help me back up
After I’ve fallen and feel so alone and hurt
There is never a doubt that He knows my thoughts
And fills me with truth that comes from Him
On precious promises found inside His word
He’s whispered to me of hope, faith and love
All that He gives to those who give Him their heart
To prepare for giving generously and with joy
That knows through each gift there is renewal
And the warmth of pure tender empathy within
He mends my broken heart when I feel so worried
That I’ll never be able to find the strength inside
To grow beyond this terrible moment of discouragement
Where everything I come across seems to bring me
Unending melancholy and depression, disillusionment
He’s willing to inspire me when I feel so lacking in vision
With Him, there’s a new creativeness that excites me
And cheers me on to reconsider my anxiety and burden
Of apprehension toward giving away the parts of me
That live within, toward the center, at the very heart
He takes me to new heights and gives me new dreams
Takes away the fear of failure and fills me with a spirit
Of faith within, where all true dreams are certain to win
And every fanciful muse starts to take it’s first place
Honoring the One who created us all in the beginning
He’s the author of the words that inspire so many
An everlasting book that can bestow second chances
And remind us all that we have the One who knows us
Better than we even know ourselves; He is the master
Leading us to a heaven where we will all know true love
I hope to be primarily
a man who suffers minim'lly.
Furthermore, I would hope to say,
I might improve another's day.
So, I do not harm yours truly,
or hurt other people, unduly.
It's easy now, as an old bloke,
a few decades, and I will croak.
I am single, my son is grown,
and I live by myself alone.
I am happy with who I am.
In that regard, I am a clam.
If my independent son needs help,
he only needs to give a yelp
On the other hand (I just have two),
I might be challenged anew -
one more test for this old rover
would be if my love life's not over...
which could open Pandora's box.
I would have to change my socks.
Then, I'd need to look deep inside,
preventing tears from being cried,
gracefully, swallowing my pride,
my conscience being my guide,
opening up my heart so wide,
being always on her side,
ready and able to turn the tide,
to not into old habits slide,
I would need to clearly decide
to moral principles, abide,
generously I would provide,
faithfully, 'til the day I died...
but geezers rarely take a bride,
and I will take my life in stride.
With wind wisps, she sways like a tipsy sailor,
dressed in queenly array that'd impress any tailor,
with gentle petals, as soft as a lofty gown
and stamen arranged like a radiant, jeweled crown.
Bachelor buttons are sown, as if to a lovely garment.
The garden ground's an art, like a patchwork raiment.
Her highness is surrounded with likeness guests,
all seeming to await beauty pageant quests.
Their stems reach high, like skyward towers.
Cosmos explode like star-spangled showers.
Roses lift generously to sift their sultry scent.
Ornamental bluebells hang within their element.
Carnations wave at humble bumblebees,
who speak softly to poppies and daisies,
who reach the gaze of cheerful children,
who teach awe and simplicity again and again.
The door to Thanksgiving leads
to hope that the world will be well fed,
to appreciation for the family members we love
to excitement that we will be seeing our cousins
to memories of other Thanksgivings and people who are gone now.
The door to Thanksgiving leads to land of love and appreciation
A valley where sweet potatoes gladly lay down their lives
And are sprinkled generously
with butter and brown sugar
topped with marshmallows
like grandma used to make
The door to Thanksgiving leads
to the belief there will be future Thanksgivings
to the memory of the laughter of our babies when they were toddlers
to a long wonderful afternoon nap, where we are carefree
Thrilled that we once again were able to open the door to Thanksgiving
It’s Christmas again and I’m still sure of Him,
The One who became my best friend,
When I discovered the joy of His presence,
Blessing me with hope, faith and love
All the joy that comes to those who know Him
As Savior, King, Prince of Peace,
The heart and soul of love’s eternal bliss.
It’s Christmas again and I’m still sure of Jesus,
The man on the cross, who gave all…
To provide a way for me, a way of truth,
A place where we can go to satisfy our soul,
A wonder that comes from knowing…
With love, my faith keeps growing, reassuring
That, with the King of Kings, I can overcome anything.
It’s Christmas again and I’m still sure of my friend,
The One who silences the wind,
The One who brings us peace within,
The One who blesses souls who believe
With a love that is wiser than any knowledge,
A love that comes from knowing He is alive
And, because He lives, I can surely survive.
It’s Christmas again and I’m still sure – I can’t pretend
He is the way, the truth, the life
Because of His love, His light, His forgiveness,
I know what it is to feel free from sin’s prison.
I know what it means to love without conditions.
I know what it is to give generously, without pretentions,
A love that comes from the One up above…
It’s Christmas and I hope, more than anything,
You know the King who reigns with a spirit who will never fail…
The Christmas Spirit who quiets the noise of our self.
my grandmother’s name is Verna
some look at her and see section 8, welfare checks, abuse and neglect
they see insufficiency, ignorant independency, a trench-condemned wreck
no collegiate education, no high-school diploma, they see a lack of dedication
they look in my grandmother’s eyes and with the snap of their fingers subject her to poverty, they banish her to being a pawn in their monopoly
they gratuitously perpetuate their hate and generously project their mental state
and to this? my grandmother smiles, she says Ladybug, don’t worry about me, they don’t know
They don’t know that my grandmother has built diamonds of men in the rough
she has made roses of women out of concrete
mountains move at the sound of her step
she makes even what is long lost feel kept
her smile could make a fish breathe out of water
i could posses no humanly title more noble than her granddaughter
there is no greater honor that I am allowed
no duer justice of mine than to make her proud
my grandmother sculpted my spirit with calloused hands and a heart overflowing, imbuing me with a strength born not of privilege, but of fiercely earned knowing
they don’t know about the lullabies she’s sung through thin walls, how many time she’s picked me up from my falls, and more importantly how she doesn’t keep count
her motherhood, a tapestry woven with threads of sacrifice and strands of grace, a masterpiece unseen by eyes that only value pedigree and place
my grandmother has raised generations of excellence. don’t believe me? just open your eyes-you never met a woman so sagacious-so wise-so gracious-even with my words you couldn’t surmise
I’m talking about a charisma you wouldn’t believe, a resilience you couldn’t conceive, a wit you could never deceive, a love you wouldn’t know how to receive,
if i died and said I never knew unconditional love, I would be a bold-faced lie
i think my grandma would raise up out her grave and set the record straight with a fire burning in her eye
hell, call it blasphemy but I think my grandmother’s touch could make a blind man see
her soul breaking chains and setting lives free
my grandmother’s name is Verna
and if God was a woman on earth, then I’ve been a disciple since birth
I wish there was a magical prescription I could take that would make this pain feel less infinite, a little more with every sun's wake. I don't want to let the memory of you go, but I would like life to ease up on the suffocating reminders that our bonded window here, has permanently been closed.
I've been trying to wrap my head around the idea of why I need someone to blame. I guess then maybe I would have the ability to kindly respond when someone casually brings up your name, instead of getting angry trying to figure out who I should hate.
I was sorting through old emails and decided to type in a K, and there is the last poem sent by you on a Thursday. I read it out loud and silently balled my eyes out. I wish I would have written you a poem to tell you what you meant. I just never thought there would be a time, when I couldn't press send.
I don't want your memory to fade, or people to forget your name. I'm trying to jam to our oldies, sing and dance in my car like we use to do in the good old days. I want to take you with me on new adventures, and create new memories not stay in old stories that don't serve my new life generously. I will not disregard opportunities and chances to bring you alive.
Whether it's through words, songs, or good memories, all of those moments deserve to be given energy and time. If resting is peaceful, I'm glad you are finally at peace. Your soul was not meant to be trapped in a place where your spirit was never truly free.