How is it a family portrait…drawn with stick figures in crayon
with a sun and what looks like some clouds up in the sky
can make you smile…
touch your heart…
and bring a teardrop to your eye?
Could it be you know the artist
his work is familiar to you?
Could it be you love the artist…
and the artist loves you too?
Which is why a family portrait drawn in crayon…
can bring a teardrop to your eye
make you smile
touch your heart
and why it now hangs on your refrigerator…
as a treasured work of art.
Dear New Life Church.
A treasured gift hangs on the wall near the kitchen table
Like something brave, solid, embracing, and stable.
It's the portrait of the heads of Christ and a lion.
It's a precious goodbye gift from you.
When I look at it, I think of you.
A treasured gift sits on the floor in a book holder.
Inside of that Bible, in addition to the word of God,
are 'post it stickers' with brief notes from friends.
It's the Bible I reach for most every morning;
And when I do, I think of you.
Inside the special areas of my heart are memories.
They portray hundreds of precious experiences
And thousands of 'God Moments' shared with you.
Oh how blessed I feel when I think of you.
You are forever in our memories.
CjBj
Our Treasured Children
Protect our children, hand-in-hand
Teach them strength and to be aware
Goodbye to silence, goodbye to fear
Together we shall dry all the tears.
Oh children, our children
Stay safe and warm
Let the heavens protect you
And keep you smiling
Let’s educate, lets raise voices
Make sure every child has choices
A life lived free of fear and doubt
A world that is kind and just
In the name of love, we must earn their trust
We stand as world parents, and guardians too
Our hearts aflame, protecting children, we break the chain
Love is our guide, courage our weapon
In the battle for their safety, we will not deter
We shield the light of innocent hearts
From callous predators who want to steal
And tear innocence apart, wreaking havoc and pain
In unity and strength we take a stand
We protect out children with vigour and passion
Every child, their safety assured
We are not deterred in the endless fight
The shadows of the mind remain concealed,
time’s quiet veil upon wounds unhealed.
Treasured moments sleep in cloaked recess,
a history bound in silent darkness.
Two hosts bear witness, their truths untold,
hidden, unseen, by hearts grown cold.
Regrets spilled forth, like fractured glass,
unexplored journeys lost, they pass.
Divided hearts, once worlds apart,
tangled doubts pulling threads of the heart.
Twisted and stretched 'til bonds collapse,
shadows of the past, in the dark they lapse.
My greatest sin was how I lost you,
For my greatest treasure was you.
You
o p e n
my heart,
you fill it with love and care.
It's now an~~o~c~e~a~n~~
limitless and full of
d e of
e v treasured
. p o beauties
t r
h. t
A
Contest: YOUR CHOICE nV
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Contest Judged: April 26th, 2025 10:22:00 AM
Placement: Eighth
Endearing memories come to mind
Celebrations shared from the past
Timeless recollections from my youth
Those tender musings I hold dear
Treasured moments from yesteryears
Treasured Memory
~~~~~~
Quietly dreaming ‘neath azure skies
Amid the leafy woodlands
Where no distractions are found
And on the air, so calm and still
No sound, save that of blackbird in the thorn
Into this calm comes the soft rustle of the rowan tree
Blue dragonflies dart to and fro
Like butterfly or fairy wings
And warm brown frogs move among the whispering reeds.
That purest of days in long distant past
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Precious years have come and gone, not a few,
Robbing us of times and things we once knew.
Troubling times whose clocks, we would have turned back,
Realizing now that so much was out of line and off-track.
Young and immature, we longed for things that we had not.
And presently, we wish that some memories would rot.
Notwithstanding, we have made amends beyond measure.
And the lessons learned shall forevermore be treasured.
Pockets are a treasured place,
Except when the laundry is done,
Then they are called a disgrace.
Everything of value,
Is all in one place!
Stuffed into pockets,
Until the end of day.
Screws on top of Kleenex,
A few stones found outside.
Occasionally a hammer,
With an old sock by its side.
My phone.
Water bottles all have a place,
Short pencils if there is enough space.
It's the emptying,
That causes a spat!
I often forget about that!
Flowers boasting lavender hues
Send fragrant messages through the air
Hoping for a butterfly's kiss
Golden winged butterflies
Are drawn to the fragrance
And delight in the taste of this treasured elixir
4-30-2024
In the currency of life, a truth unfolds,
Time, more precious than silver or gold.
It slips through fingers, a subtle stream,
A treasure beyond what money may seem.
Moments are gems, each second a prize,
Countless treasures hidden in sunrise.
Money may come, and money may go,
But time's true worth continues to grow.
So, cherish each heartbeat, each fleeting chime,
For in life's grand tapestry, time's the prime.
No wealth can buy what moments convey,
Time, the richest currency in life's display.
Lots of people were once scattered throughout those farmlands.
But now nearly all those farm hands and sharecroppers are gone.
But in my heart and mind, there's still a live picture of those
communities that once housed treasured and hard-working people.
Once filled with thriving though very poor families, those shot-gun
houses and shanty town shelters are also gone. They now form
a distant but unforgettable memory of my childhood.
Notwithstanding, there remain treasured pieces of property
that warm my heart each time I see them. It's those white-painted
buildings, a few of which are barely standing, refusing to fall.
It's as if they are shouting to me, "I'm Still Here!" I tell you.
But for the sight of those 'Pearls of Great Price', those 'Treasures
hidden in a field', the present rural scene would be unbearable for me.
From the dark shadows of yesterday's changes, challenging changes
whose time had come, those Houses of Worship have survived and
stand tall as beacons of light still shining the light of God.
this mugs a foam treasure trove
see it caffineates my stove
adding sweet and moo
brings on sticky goo
sorry didnt add more clove.
Mom With Prayer Shawl
*
In this time of sorrow
We are reminded, that none of us get out alive
Yet, I treasure the belief
With remembering we all survive.
*
On my last visit to Mom
She wore a shawl
Draped over her thin shoulders.
“The shawl is so beautiful, Mom.”
“Yes, Son, I love the soft blue.”
*
“The other day a young woman
Came to my room, opened a box,
And there was the shawl.
She said members of the church,
Crochet prayer shawls.
The young woman asked
If I would accept this Shawl of Hope
With their love and prayers.
Now, Son, I didn't
Mean to make you cry.”
“I know, Mom, but you always said
I was a sensitive guy.
I wrote it in my diary.”
“You and that diary...
One can't get away with anything.”
“Nope, I got it all on paper
And treasure it.”
Mom looked at me with tears
And asked me to come closer.
She whispered,
“I am being warmed
By loving hands
Responsible for each
Entwined strand of wool.
The shawl is blessed with hope
And its warmth
Keeps fear out in the cold.”
“I will sit by you, Mom,
And feel its warmth.”
*
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