earthen vessels

Good Sabbath Evening!

Restful hours invite us to come apart – from a week that perhaps has left us
feeling empty and charred from the suffering in this world – in need of remaking and renewing – fashioning us into new vessels . . .

We are earthen vessels, chards of broken clay
lying upon the earth for all to see
Fractured minds, injured souls, enclosed
in an earthen vessel filled with holes
coffers of treasures not of silver and gold
hold those chosen to unfold the mysteries
of sufferings of this earth’s souls!

My poem ‘Earthen Vessels’ was inspired
by the verse . . . “We have this treasure in
earthen vessels . . . that the power may be
of God and not of us”
2 Corinthians 4:7

on a warm August evening 🌛

she dreams – embracing the moon with stars ⭐✨ aglow

“The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

A Night or two ago –
And now she turns Her perfect Face –
Upon the World below . . .
Her Cheek a Beryl hewn –
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew . . .
Her Lips of Amber never part –
But what must be the smile –
Upon Her Friend she could confer –
Were such Her Silver Will . . .”

Emily Dickinson

✨Greetings on this Sabbath Eve

🌒 🌙 A FRIDAY EVENING REFLECTION ⭐ ✨

OUR world sometimes seems forgotten as it hangs in space – WEARY and heavily laden.
CREATION bows in unison – SEEKING rest and peace – IF only we would come apart and remember the SABBATH hours – HONORING His creation!

Streams in the desert 🌵 (blog #2) 🏝

~ FOUR RIVERS OF PARADISE ~

Not always were there deserts of arid wilderness and wind swept sand in thirsty dry lands
For one great river flowed broad and deep through gardens of flowers and grass with green leafy trees. The bird skims the ripples with wing and song as brimming waters wind and flow in four rivers of paradise. Over pebbles shiny and smooth , in rhapsody singing all day long. Flooding hill and dale and meadows of gold with plenty of water for everyone!

Sheep May Safely Graze

Good Sabbath Morning!

With a Sabbath Reflection!

The month of March celebrates the great composer, Johann Sebastian Bach’s
birthday, born in 1685. One of his musical compositions is often played in
weddings and celebrations –

“Sheep may safely graze and pasture

In a watchful shepherd’s sight

Those who rule with wisdom guiding

Bring to hearts a peace abiding

Blessing a land with joy made bright.”

And I would like to share a story I have written, inspired by love and care
for lost little lambs in our world of dangers and snares –

a lost

“We seem to stray from the fold of safety, but upon
His lambs there is ever a Watchful Eye”

Wandering in an arid land

Far from the flock

Timid and shy a lost lamb unable

To find its way from danger back

The ravine between

Deep and confining

Its cry bleating then slowly fainting

The sheep in safety still abiding

Following their shepherd

Wherever he leads them

Upon a midnight’s sleep

Awakening, counting his sheep

Venturing into the night

For one was missing

Oh, children upon earth

Like wandering lambs

Searching for a Shepherd

In a land of danger, suffering the

Hand that harms them

His rod and staff

Securely leads them

Their bruises and hurts, their minds

And hearts with oils he soothes them

Smoothing their paths

Spreading a table before them

In the valley of death they do not fear

For in the house of their

Lord there is no despair

A room to hold them in that great

Mansion He has prepared

Dwelling forever!

Poet In Disguise

**“Please Do Not Take My Pen And Ink Away”**

It was a swift epiphany, an illuminating

Realization, that moment I walked into the

Room. An artist was sitting on a stool

Next to an empty canvas on an easel.

Paints of beautiful colors sat on a table.

I remember soft music playing, and the

Evening shadows had cast a quiet

Reflection as she began to speak,

Sharing the empty canvas was this

Earth before it was created, empty and

Void, then taking her brush she dips it

In paint, with strokes so evenly and

Smoothly, as she moves from side to side.

She speaks of the creation of this world,

No longer a dark canvas, it becomes a

Work of beauty. At that moment I was

Gripped with the thought, God could take

My life of darkness and recreate His child.

Little did I know the instrument of poetry

He would use, weaving its threads about me.

~~~

I should be so blest,

Or be put upon a shelf to

Rest

At least I express

My grief

Though somewhat

Indiscreet

Through pen and ink

beyond

The scope of colors

Tapping upon a vastness

Deep, I weep

It is not a fatal sin to

What lies within

For my sorrows make me ill

Until I share

With others

We are not alone the

Tears

We own have flown through

Centuries

A self proclaimed poet is

What I am

Not worthy to walk upon

The sod

Of these sleeping poets

These comforter’s of the

Past

Now inspire me to plod my

Way

Please do not take my pen

And ink away

That I may survey my dismay

And each book I write until

My last

I will draw upon the inkwell

Of tears from my past!

Read more at: www.donnaspoetry.com

Hitchhike To Heaven

**“My Load is Heavy, Along This Road To Heaven“**

Sometimes we look to others instead of to God!

****

It is a difficult road I have taken,

My load is heavy and I am

Forsaken, along this road to

Heaven.

Preachers, teachers, friends,

I look to all to get me in.

Holding my thumb up high,

Hoping for a ride, they wish me

Well and pass me by.

I don’t know how long I can do

This, I cry, I weep, all the rules I

Keep. I run and run, busy, busy,

Barely taking a breath, lest I

Falter and be left.

Everyday I confess, what more

Can I do? Throwing up my hands,

I quit, there is nothing I can do,

It is a gift!

A promise given to us –

“For it is by grace we are saved…
and not of ourselves, it is God’s
gift” Ephesians 2:8,9

Read more at: www.donnaspoetry.com

Fisherman

**“Leave Them Alone, For They Will Only Harm You”**

It seemed I was constantly looking for answers

To my problems, religion, doctors, therapists,

Medications, twelve step programs, self help

Books, bargaining, pleading, begging, anything.

Until my search became a secondary

Obsession to the OCD I compulsively practiced.

I had tunnel vision, thinking the answer could

Lie in only one of these attempts. Not realizing

Each one was a part of the process of healing.

It was like fishing, never catching anything.

And then, after I had done all I could, I had

To wait for the deliverance only God could bring.

~~~

In the early dawn of the

morning hours

A ship scours an angry sea

Of thoughts

Trolling on the deep

A fisherman holds the

Line

While a thought is

Caught

A larger one than anyone

Sought rises to the top

The battle begins as the war

Is fought

Three more knots added to

The speed of the ship

But it is all for naught

Leaving the fisherman

Distraught

Above the commotion a

Voice is heard

“Push her down”

And an answer says

“How far down?”

“As far as the thoughts

Are buried”

“Hurry, cast a line and

Reel it in with all your

Fury”

“But it is too big and my

Mind too small

How can I let it go, I

Am sinking?”

With a body that is weak

With my feeble strength

Pulling and striking, falling

On my knees

Every muscle, bone and

Grandiose groan has hit

The bottom

Another voice is heard

“Leave them alone, for they

Will only harm you”

The fisherman no longer

Distraught

Releases his thoughts into

The depths of the sea

~~~

A word of hope –

“He will again have compassion on

Us… He will cast all our sins (and

I like to think, thoughts) into the depths

Of the sea”

Micah 7:19

Read more at: www.donnaspoetry.com

Recriminations

**“The Bickering Is More Than I Can Hold”**

Whenever I would make a decision

(After many agonizing thoughts)

I would then question what I had

Decided. The focus was ‘what if

I had made the wrong choice’

All hell and damnation would

Break forth. It was agonizing,

Maybe similar to those who

Contend with ‘ buyer’s remorse’

Only the buyer in my head was not

About to give up and let it go.

Thankfully after many years, that

Has pretty much gone away (with the

Exception

Of sometimes when I am faced with

A very important one, but the time

Lapse is shorter)

~~~

Is this what I should

Have done

And done it better?

The bickering

Of my

Soul is more than I

Can hold

Once is never enough

All these

Lessons are really

Tough

In my mind there is

Constant

Drilling

Filling it with holes

Until it

Becomes a sieve

With no more room

To give!

~~~

An encouraging thought to share –

“Let no one strive, neither let

Any one reprove ‘oneself’ or

One another.

Do not waste your time in

Recriminations”

Hosea 4:4

Amplified Bible Translation

I added ‘oneself’

Read more at: www.donnaspoetry.com

Three Little Kittens

When I was three years old I remember my mother dressing

Me up to recite the poem –

Three Little Kittens

They have lost their mittens

And they began to cry

Oh mother dear we have lost our mittens…

Oh you naughty little kittens, then you shall have

No pie…

I vaguely remember being promised ice cream if I

Performed well

I don’t have too many memories, but this is one

I think that left the message, because of my

Naughtiness

I could not receive my mother’s love

One I would long for and possibly never find

I would be denied even a slice of pie, sweetness gone

Sour…

~~~~Like an omen cast on troubled waters

Oh child you have been smitten

Oh let me swim little baby she cries

Let me swim away

A basket cradle has been woven

To protect you child

Oh let me swim, swim away

Oh no little child you must

Wait till your arms are stronger

So rest a little longer

Rest a little sounder

One day your eyes will open wider

Floating on still waters

Denied love no longer

Sweetness no longer bitter

You will swim far, far away

Afraid no longer!

Read more at: www.donnaspoetry.com