Poem: Emerging

October 29th, 2009

On the tip of my brain
Sits a poem only half-formed.

It has been on the verge of being written
But lacks a common thread or substance.

The change of the seasons are a muse
As is Prokofiev, green tea, and daffodils.
When peering out into nature
To watch God’s amazing workmanship
Words drip into the sky
And peek out from behind the trees.

These fleeting moments of clarity
Are so difficult to grasp,
But their memory leaves a taste in my mind
And can’t help but make me thirst for the Something Greater.

Like the dark shadows shining down from the clouds
Between the bright rays of the sun.
Or the resonance of a string on my violin
With the tamborine atop the piano.

The sound rushes through the air and finds a kindred voice
And the two shake with joy at their meeting,
Lifting my heart with them
And laughter bursting forth.

Observing the absurd and giggling
Deeply until I must gasp for air.

God, the beautiful painter,
Who made the colors to complement each other.
He put red flowers on stalks of green;
Purple and yellow wildflowers
Scatter themselves and dance along the highway,

Crowned with caps of white.
Trees containing one hundred shades of orange, gold,
And vibrant, burning embers of scarlet
Against a vastness of blue
And a trunk of black.

Each leaf, then, holds a secret;
Each flower petal an answer,

And my eyes flit over them oft unaware
Of such a great mystery.
Oh, grant me the liberty to write such a verse
That would do justice to these trappings
Beating out of my heart.

A calling, a whisper,
A rampant longing for the glorious.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Start of Autumn

September 22nd, 2008

Sometimes change comes suddenly and sometimes it

Takes its time to come through.

As leaves turn from their green hew to

Reds, yellows, and browns,

Trees resound the coming change of the year.

Oft filled with as many sweet aromas as Spring,

Fall has a subtle beauty to it.

And we praise the Maker and Artist, Who

Understands our need of change, even

Though we may not wish it at times.

Unworthy are we of the gift He gives us,

Mystery, nature, and a season of respite.

Now we welcome Him with open arms.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Cold Winter 6

February 17th, 2007

The dark engulfs me and the trees surrounding.
The moon is bright behind the branches
Causing the limbs to look other-worldly
Refracting through the ice encased around them.
Oh I’m warm in my little car,
But cold is lurking outside,
Wishing to take me aside and introduce me
To this Martian foliage of glass and light.
But I know if we become acquainted
It would spell certain death to me.
Yes, to know these beasts, to be intimate!
I can’t even imagine.
Such a look of wonder presides on my face
As I stare out the window at the trees.
Can they be real? Or,
Maybe they are in my mind,
With their vibrant illumination.
Hmm, I cannot tell.
They must be real, but I’m sure they would
Break if I stare much longer.

 – Sarah ><>

Poem: The Heavy Moon

December 11th, 2006

The night is falling around me,

As the colors of the sun sink below the line of trees.

My spirits are down tonight,

Thinking of unfulfilled dreams and distant goals.

Inability and incapacity weigh my heart in the evening.

Feelings incapability and stagnation are deadening.

I sigh, and turn around the car to drive back home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a light.

Natural and serene, but present just the same,

I toss my glance to the side and see the moon.

My old friend. 

He is fat and plump stationed in the sky.

He has the color of a pumpkin aging gently.

Seeing him makes my heart leap,

For he is a dear friend and a messenger from God

Reminding me of His love and care. 

The world around me seems to melt away,

Then suddenly it fills back in like the light of the stars,

Or waves crashing on a rocky cliff. 

I thank my friend for his delivering the message

And kiss at the sky to my Papa

And drive home feeling lighter than the heavy moon.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Time = Clarity?

November 8th, 2006

“Timing is everything.”
So they say
And every day I live, I find out
How true it is.
These past couple of years are spent in haziness,
Like the fog outside,
Filling in thegaps of the trees.
Reminds me of the cotton in a
Bottle of pills.
No, this is softer, less coarse.
It’s pleasant to my eyes, my mind.
I love the fog.
I know, some point, it will become clear
But I’m enjoying sitting here,
Ignorant of what’s 30 feet ahead of me.
All I see is me, fog, and the near distance.
I feel a Presence, beyond my sight,
I know it’s You.
And I love it.  I love, love – love it.
Is seeing clearly asll it has to be?
Or can I be content in this
Pea-soup dream of a reality?
I think I can.  Should I?
Only time will tell.

by Sarah ><>

Poem: Thoughts on a Fall Day

October 28th, 2006

A windy, cold day –
The trees tossing and stretching
As clouds speckle the sky
Of bright blue.
Contrast the softer brown of
The fading leaves;
Brittle and weak
As a robin’s egg, abandoned.
Fall, the season of dying,
Putting away the colors of
Summer and Spring.
A season of change,
Aggressive, dull, unwanted by some.
Yet, deceived by the blue sky,
Beckoning the memories to a gentler time
Of vibrancy and life.
It betrays the mind and the heart
As winter creeps in closer.

Sarah ><>

Poem: Watching the Air

May 20th, 2006

Two spectators enjoying the day –
A beautiful sun and gentle breeze,
Both watching the planes
Coming in and out.
We want so badly to be up there too,
But I’m on the ground and
His wings are too small.
So we’re sitting and watching,
Content to be landlocked with the sky high above.
I sing out a song
His chirps fill the air –
Both grateful to be alive
And listening to Brandenburg play from my car.
Someday we’ll both get our wings.

Sarah ><>