By Sarah

by

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.
Inspiration…

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 ><>

by

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 ><>

by

Poem: Window of a Morning

August 18th, 2008

When in the morning
The sun’s first rays of daffodil tears
Break through the glass
And sweep across my face,
My mind is flooded with thoughts –
Worries and plans, joys and sadness
All come in with the morning light.
As a cloud passes under the sun,
Its shadow is God’s gentle reminder
To stop and remember Him.
My eyes close again
But not to return to slumber.
Instead, it throws me at His feet,
The feet of the One Who holds all.
He shows me the coming day
Through His crystal clear pane.
The sight is foggy, muddled and
I’m unsure of His purpose.
As I peer longer, an image takes form
And I’m aware of the reflection in the glass,
With my Father’s strong arms around me.
I sigh and gaze at the peaceful scene,
But then it changes.
Slowly my reflection disappears
And He is all that remains.
Tears fall from my eyes as the knowledge
Of Who He is and who I’m not
Fills my mind.
My day is now in order
And I open my eyes to
Rejoice in His beautiful sunlight.

Sarah ><>

by

Poem: Light in The Father

August 17th, 2008

How beautiful it is when
A child of God goes to meet Him.
When the light has burned brightly,
Drawing many to the Source –
The Father.
When the child’s flame is immersed
In the burning brilliance of,
The Father.
Though other nearby flames
Mourn the loss of their kindred
The hope of future burning,
Of a flame that will never fan out,
It is our comfort and delight.

Sarah ><>

by

Poem: Your Grace is Sufficient

August 17th, 2008

Your grace is sufficient for Your children.
In our deepest grief,
Your grace is enough for us.

Your love overwhelms Your children.
In our greatest despair,
Your love is greater than us.

Your mercy humbles Your children.
In our worst rebellion,
Your mercy, to our knees, it brings us.

Your hope comforts Your children.
In our foggiest future,
Your hope is peace to us.

Sarah ><>

by

Poem: Cowboys & Injuns

Dec 29th, 2007

This hobby-horse is about to break.
Yea, the wood is cracked, abrasive, even warped
From riding too long.
I’ve got a cowboy hat on
With the elastic string nearly digging into my neck.
It’s a great game, though –
Hopping on the horse,
Ole Dusty Star,
Faithful friend.
“Where to today, my friend?”
I don’t know, let’s just ride.
Off we go into the sunset –
That never grows larger, or closer.
Phew! I’m tired of riding and getting nowhere.
So, I hop off the horse and mosey to the shade of a tree,
Settling down into its coolness
And tip my hat over my eyes.
I take a rest, a cat nap.
When I awaken, I find in the dark,
I’ve lost my horse, stranded at my starting place,
He’s gone off for other pastures.  Oh well.
I’ll just stop by the store and pick up another.
This time I’ll name it Ginger Root.

Sarah ><>

by

Poem: The Words

May 22nd, 2007

I need words
That hold a chorus of thoughts,
Expressing gratitude for the good You’ve done.
For me, this little girl,
Still wide-eyed
And unaware of each blessing.
Oh, if I only have the words!
To speak of the joy welling up,
Bubbling over inside me
At each “kiss” You give me –
The moon, the stars, the fog,
A voice, laughter, Melodies,
Clouds, the wind, everything.
Yellow describes but one side.
Giddy labels another,
But for the five hundred more,
Who could name them?
Who, but You who made them!
Ah, the words of love and devotion,
And the care of my Papa.
“I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine.”

Sarah ><>

by

Poem: Cold Winter 6

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 ><>

by

Poem: Musings of a Romance

December 28th, 2006

I was meant to be a lover,

If only to watch others forge trails through another’s heart.

My own heart leaps at a tale of romance –

One steadily sought by an unabashed suitor –

Denial, realization, and acceptance after humility.

I’ve tried to project myself into these witting trifles

But I feel as though they don’t fit properly;

Like a square peg in a rounded hole.

Perhaps my tale will wax as a trapezoid

With more bends and angles and darts.

I’ve already seen the path grow dusty,

Rained upon and heavily trampled. 

Yet, there still remains a part of the road

Unlaid and untraveled, a solid frontier,

Where one will gently walk with me.

Sarah ><>

by

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 ><>