a distant land

A Silent Dove In A Distant Land

I had a dove and the
lovely dove left

and I wondered
why without
me it fled?

Why – Oh why – my dear
bird? For together we
could fly
Why did you leave
me behind?

How I long to
hear your sweet song

But its song had died
in the darkness of night

In grief to a distant
land it took flight . . .


A very long time ago a man had been captured
and sent to a far= off land. Once a powerful
King, David became a helpless innocent
captive far from home, taking refuge in God
during deep distress. He wrote a song called
‘A Silent Dove In A Distant Land’

Psalm 56
In the Book of Psalms

the bleeding rose

AMONG a garden of lovely
colors
God chose a rose of purest
white
Never seeking its own it
was meant to grow and bless
the earth

Because of man’s crushing
blow, into the ground
thorns pressed the rose
in darkness white petals bled

Heaven’s garden looked down
and weptfor fear their
precious rose would forever
rest, bruised and forgotten

But to their wonder new
breath is given
the stone upon its tomb
removed

The scent of the rose from
dust arose returning to
heaven’s garden

The Dear Rose of Sharon!

◾striping of the innocent◾

ARE we the only ones that

have lived in shame, in
our abuse, agony and pain?
Why did it happen?
Why did we
not stop the cruel acts?
Did the threats intimidate
us?

“But we have been abused”
we cry
our bodies and minds
we took on as our fault
the sins of the perpetrator
has eaten away at our
hearts
our dark secrets haunt us
at night, our pillows
drenched with tears, having
taken the burden upon ourselves
but it is just too heavy
to bear
In self reproach
trying to pay the price
As if we are striped of
the things of this earth ready
to die


THERE once was a Man

who experienced this pain as we
in humiliation and scourging
he hung upon a tree
His robe torn from his body
his loincloth removed
a spectacle to the world

In disgrace, his garments
bickerd with tainted money
1Beatened with a rod
with cuts and abrasions
a crown of thorns pressing

upon his head, nails driven
through his hands
offered for all men

Our appetites and passions
he bore
tempted of the devil
denying himself bread
given to prayer instead
tasting bitter wine, spewing
it from his mouth giving
us power over our addictions

The cry of the mob
“Crucify Him” as he hung
upon the cross
Crying “Father forgive them
for they know not what they do”
giving us the desire to forgive
our assassins and demons too

Desolate and forlorn when his
followers fled, he understands
when alone we are left
In all of these things he was
striped and given to death
only to rise again that his sons
and daughters may in eternity
rest!

March 30th

‘World Bipolar Awareness Day’

UP and DOWN and all AROUND
like a merry-go-round

Racing thoughts, highs and
lows and signs of blues
with sleepless nights

Then slowly coming to
a stop hitting the earth
with a sudden halt

If only others could
understand this mysterious
illness – Reaching out with
a helping hand!



silent steps

Remembering ISRAEL

They climbed the paths
of crooked roads, over
rocks and sand

With dusty sandals and
painful soles
A group of pilgrims
journey on

To Jerusalem the City of
God

To sing the ‘Songs of Ascents’
the staircase of rejoicing and praise

In the hush of the Sabbath
Evening hours, arriving at her
gates

Only to find them closed and

locked
In forbiddance they are
turned away

For a Holy War
Is raging and the

‘Steps of Ascents’
once cherished – Now turned
to steps of silence


Where now will her people
Go to Pray?

The 15 ‘Song of Ascents’
is found in the Book of
Psalms Chapter 120-134



the bleeding rose

AMONG a garden of lovely
colors
God chose a rose of purest
white
Never seeking its own it
was meant to grow and bless
the earth

Because of man’s crushing
blow, into the ground
thorns pressed the rose
in darkness white petals bled

Heaven’s garden looked down
and weptfor fear their
precious rose would forever
rest, bruised and forgotten

But to their surprise new
breath was given
the stone upon its tomb
removed

The scent of the rose from
dust arose returning to
heaven’s garden

The Dear Rose of Sharon!

the night before Spring

LAST night I had a dream of
pleasant things of Spring
awakenings, when I was
awakened with a frightening
sound, a clashing of thunder
and lightening bright
Running to the window pulling
the curtain aside
March stared at me like a lion
with an icy sword by her side
when once
again in sleep I fell
and in my dream I was given
HOPE – Of a hill filled with
golden daffodils
AND winter ceased – March
leaving like a lamb seeking
Peace . . . 🐑 🐏

a bridge

WHEN does a poem become a
poem?
A thought sprinkled in the
mind
or words written on paper?

Until I share my story –
expressing my grief . . .
Please do not take away my pen
and ink
For each word I write until
my last, from the ink well of
tears I will write of
my past . .

.
POETRY truly is a bridge
between myself and the
rest of myself!




Springing forward

This SUNDAY Morning . . .

Our clocks spring forward
Causing confusion and lack
of sleep . . .

BUT nature doesn’t seem
To care with her intuitive mind

THE birds don’t notice
rising at the same hour every day
taking their flight
AND the primrose still waits for
the early morning slant of light
THE sun still shines as she
circles the earth since time
began
AND with the wink of her eye –
Laughing at the silliness of man! 😉