The years will not be wasted . . .

Familiar
with the desert and its harsh existence burning sand and wind-worn hills
scavengers consuming the very existence giving little hope of a fertile land –

When an unexpected
hand reached down, a clearer picture
was seen with running streams and fruitful
plains! A rich banquet had been prepared with enough to spare!


Sitting on a bench reflecting
on her life, there is a longing in her heart
why had not her formative years been spared?

But the promise rang true
“The years the locust have eaten have not been wasted
they will be restored” **
The bumps and ridges of dry desert sand truly
had become bridges to a better land!

A Metaphoric Reflection


Her humble house stood in array
The kitchen table with empty chairs
is saddened, in the cupboards are
antagonists chewing

Lowly locusts with their flatulent bellies and
bulging eyes inch their way through grubby
cabinets . . . a cry is heard as smoke comes
through the door
It is sad, this house is now ashes
but it has to be

The scavengers of earth must bow in solemnity
to the sacred word

The cabinets are no longer stirring
gnawing has ceased as the locusts retreat

This girl of dust is no longer a wanderlust
Her house has become a home glowing
within, she would like to invite all to come
and eat, there is plenty of room at the table
A table draped in white linen, bread and
drink fully given, candlelight reflecting the
faces of those no longer hidden!


These are selected verses from my book
“The Wanderlust”
** The Book of Joel 2:25

The Potter’s Clay

IN life’s deepest sorrow when it seems the pain is too much to bear, the scrapes and bruises and festering wounds, leave a vessel marred until there is no place to go, but back to the Potter’s wheel from which we were made!


Of colored earth, a vessel was made, a piece of clay formed at the potter’s
wheel, baking perfect and good.

Taking His paddle with a scoop of earth, tempering on the spinning wheel,
the rotating force makes me dizzy with its busy motion.
The knife of the potter scrapes the unneeded clay, baking again and sealed
once more, a new vessel in the hand of the potter!

Wishing you blessings on this Sabbath evening

Since the beginning of time there has been
a time set aside that we may rest
A tower of safety where we may run and hide

“The finest grapes of rose and purple”
The Gatekeeper’s Child

On a fruitful hill
the gardener fences a plot
gathering stones then
planting the choicest of
vines.

The finest grapes of rose and purple
clustered among splashes of green
woody leaves and branches weave
through shadows and sun.

The song of the Beloved
touches his vineyard.

His pleasant plants reap
a harvest in the autumn
yielding fruits of sweetness.

A winepress is built to
press the fruit and a strong

tower is placed in the
midst that his watchman may
watch for thieves and
robbers and the people run
in and are safe.*

Hiring a gatekeeper to protect
his vines, the absent gardner
leaves the country traveling
to a far off land.

The gatekeeper’s child,
fair skinned, with
bright blue eyes and

blonde tosseled hair,
digs in flower beds with
songs of laughter.

One night the gatekeeper became
imbibed, partaking of the wine,

becoming mean, his rage bent
on destruction, the child is
frightened.

Forgetting to watch for the
enemy, a robber crept in while
he slept, stealing his child,
who ran and hid.

A darkness covered the garden,
the fruit withered and died,

sweet smell of the tender
grapes now tainted, became
sour wine.

The landholder returns,
questioning, “where is my
gatekeeper and his child?”
But there is no reply.

Sending his gardner to search
far and near,
the gatekeeper comes to his
senses,

with love and prayers bidding
his son’s return, the child
runs into the tower of safety.

The vines are now tended with
love and care, the richness of
the garden brings about much
more fruit than before.

  • Proverbs 18:10

Earth Chants . . .

An Allegory


Part One
“From the abundance of waves from crest to crest seeking rest”

Dark and dreary as a
December morning
as if flakes of snow are about to fall
but in mid September the threat of ashes
spew from the sky. The air subjected to
smoke and toxic fumes from raging fires.

From the four corners of the earth, a planet in cosmic
waste – as if
A Requiem of Remembrance is said for a world lost to death!



Coming from the sea of an interior womb
of this earth’s unstable waters of fertility
A sea room floating in ambience in a fetal
position, unaware

The sad seagulls cry searching for a meal
turtles, eels, colorful starfish all going
about their activity, life screams in the
sea encompassed in a grey bowl of
captivity
There is a feud in the great surge of the
waves the fragility of the earth is in
compromise

The force of the currents carry to shore
chemicals clash vapors pass, tears fall
upon ashes turning to stone

Earth is a shell waiting to be filled
crushed from the impact
of warring swells its tongue muted its
eyes scaled ears stung with deafening tones

From the abundance of its waves from crest to
crest and ever presseing on to find sweetness of waters
What is its destination?
It has taken a rest in a sepulcher of death!

A Requiem is said!

Part Two

Choirs sing in lamentations words
expressing grief for
a world taken by the thief
succumbed in silence in an allegorical dream
The earth lays in a coffin – Forgotten!

Chanters pressed together in black disguise
leather sandals ready for the battle
ringing of censors chanting their venomous songs

Part Three

“Who will win this battle of death?”
“Who will prevail?”
Angels answer!
“Jesus, He is victor over death”
“Victory is won! Oh death where is
your sting? Salvation He brings!”

Earth’s chanters lift their voices in unison
marching against the curse of the dying and
dead
A Requiem of Life now Sung
and “Amen” is said!

Unshaken . . .

The trees are slowly changing their colors
some sooner than others – ones of all sizes
and shapes surrender their leaves, but one
stands stronger than the rest!

The breeze blew upon the trees the poplar beech and willow, once providing
shade now their leaves in piles lay but the old oak tree stands alone
fully dressed quietly defying the rest. Not one leaf shakes, not one branch
breaks. It is unshaken! . . . Standing below this majestic tree, surveying the
strength it is to me, I like the oak holding on to the the old, must wait in His
time making room for the new. Until then I am unshaken!

This poem appear in
my book “Unshaken”
ANl!2usthBA2

It was a clear day. . .

And the sky was blue, the air clean, only in the
distance was the haze that our inversion brings.
But as the morning hours continued and smoke
began to fill the western sky, the mountains and hills are
hidden from view . . . we thought we had been spared but
once again devastation is brought upon our land.

The creatures have no perch to raise
their young to rest their wings
Yet unlike us, when tragedy comes
and into despair we fall, they
spread their flight to brighter spots


Please may we be reminded the blade
of grass will once again push up through
dust and ashes
The grain of wheat will bring
bread again to our tables
And though we cannot see it now
the hills hidden from our view
will one day reappear when
the sun breaks through!

“[We] will lift up [our] eyes to the
hills, from where comes [our] help”


Paper Dolls . . .

They toil not neither do they spin!

Every morning I visited the
meadow
where the pleasant summer
flowers grew
the daisies with their
sunshine faces
and lily white petals
until there was a meadow
full of paper
dolls dancing in the middle

Then I visited one day and
all the summer flowers had
faded and were gone
petals fallen one by one
crumbled and soiled and
fallen to the ground


And I began to mourn
when a voice said “Do
not weep
for each have saved a pocket
full of seed
and leaves have made a bed
for them to sleep
in place of the daisies the
asters and mums have raised
their heads
Red rosy apples and
sweet vines of grapes will reap
a harvest where a meadow full of
paper dolls once again will come out to
play!

“Consider the lilies how they grow, they
neither spin nor toil yet
[Kings] in all their glory were not arrayed like
one of these”
Book of Luke 12:27