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~🍀 A Parable of Faith and Trust 🍀

THE smallest of seed has become a tree!

The birds of the sky nest under its branches
Singing sweet songs as they rest
A mustart seed of FAITH is all it takes!

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‘World Bipolar Awareness Day’

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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!

Remembering ISRAEL

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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?

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

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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!

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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 . . . 🐑 🐏

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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!

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This SUNDAY Morning . . .

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

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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! 😉

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MARCH has come to visit
Again! With her gusty winds!

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THE wind like a whistle
Blows through the hills
Blowing where she wishes
Never sitting still
LIKE a naughty child
With her games she plays
But please FORGIVE us
When we complain
Reminding us the
Earth you are sweeping clean
Preparing for the birth of
A lovely SPRING!

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A February Birthday Quickly Passsing!

I would feel free I thought
If only I could have a little
Bird and with it learn to fly
To soar to places far away and
Leave my thoughts behind!

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. . . AND one day walking by
A flutter of wings by me fly
And to my surprise upon
A limb some caring one hung
A feeder of seed and bread . . .

– Yellow birds
– Black birds
– Red and white ones as well
–
All are fellows dining as
One
And I wondered why we
Do not do as them?

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“Are we not beggars telling
Other beggars where to find
Bread?”
Quote Martin Luther

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