I remember her
My mom
Born today 1912
And the Titanic set sail
Two April diamonds
Sparkling in the sun
She sailed longer
We all mourn the same
April 10, Napowrimo.net day 10. Just remembering the loss.
It’s not the peas that take down the swelling
It’s the ice
Frozen stifles what runs too free
Its not the thirst saying I’m alive
It’s the quench of rebirth that revives
Its not the care I carry that releases you
It’s the weight I let go of
So I can rise and help from another plane
Water in three forms
Isn’t it a trinity?
Another reflection of God
dVersepoetspub.com prompt for Tuesday is “Water in its 3 forms, solid, liquid, gas”.
Can’t say I’ve ever Aced much
My grades won’t get me far
If you’re lookin’ for a perfect score
The chances are
You’ll just see scores
Of books unread
Assignments lost
Incompletes
The real Ace
I didn’t earn
Jesus Aced the test for me
#2
High or Low
Whether it first or last
An Ace is an Ace
It can push a straight into win
Or sit next to a King
It’s the way it is called
At the start of a game
With Jesus I Ace it either way
And win
dVersepoetspub.com Quadrille Monday, a 44-word poem, excluding the title.
Aced it twice!
Yes, so far a poem a day for napowrimo. April’s challenge.
What price you paid
For these words
Written down
May I never toss them
Like seeds in unfertile ground
Manipulate their meaning
To my disposition bent
Choose my own translation
Mixing mine with your intent
Do I cherish the cost
Do I e’er think about
The countless breaths
That try to snuff it out
Their own flame will extinguish
While your Word will burn brighter
It has out lasted the ages
Your Spirit the igniter
For what was the cost
To bring me this life
Not just a man
But the Lord God himself
Took on all sin in fulfillment
It was the cost of blood
So I would never have to shed mine as atonement
It was the cost of silence
Now I have a voice
To speak for the hopeless
And watch them rejoice
It was the cost of obedience
Teaching humility and true justice
And the cost of grief
So in my own I see one
That makes me victorious
And oh the cost of unrequited love
So when one won’t return mine
It is not my ruin
An empty box
A blank screen
Books of paper
Words not yet assigned
No salience from another’s mind
Just quiet moments
I call mine
No choice to offer
A smile or frown
Lest silent gesture
Lets you down
Though many gifts
Can be adored
These three are
Hope restored
For an empty box
Is mine to fill
A blank screen – a playing field
And wordless books
Are a writer’s friend
A companion none can steal
When all are filled
And neatly stored
There may be one in need
An empty gift
I once received
Now may be used
to feed
Day 7 of Napowrimo.net prompt…gifts you give, gifts you receive
If I had made a different plan of life
If I circumvented all the strife
If I had chose another path to take
If my heart was never soft enough to break
If that fruit could have stayed upon the tree
If Eve had turned away from the serpent’s plea
Redemption is a word I would never know
And Jesus may not mean the same
As the one I’ve come to know
In every life that’s given to this Earth
A longing placed inside to know one’s worth
Transcends all other yearnings of the soul
Only Jesus is the hope that makes him whole
Jesus made a way on Calvary
A bloody sacrifice I’ll never have to see
A loving throne of mercy is His place
The only if that matters now
Is if you choose His grace
And should you choose to never make that choice
The only words forever may be your own voice
Asking
Is it the should haves
Could haves
Would haves in this world
That make up all the dis-ease of this world?
A day late, but I can’t manipulate the muse! Day 6 poem of Napowrimo.net
I am a draft of something greater
So many words that no one will ever read
Sweet nectar turned to honey later
Dreams in daylight melt to vapor
Fragrance carried by a soothing breeze
I am a draft of something greater
A life in edit as I long to cater
To the world my views and pleas
Sweet nectar turned to honey later
Choicest words I long to gather
So like a worker for a queen bee
I am a draft of something greater
Mouth to mouth the bees do feed
Each other in their expertise
Right now a draft of something greater
Sweet nectar turned to honey later
Napowrimo.net day 5 prompt. A villanelle. A very difficult form of poetry. This is my second one ever.
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