***Windblade's Favorite Poems - Part III***

Discussion in 'Spirituality/Worship' started by hangininthere, Jul 17, 2008.

  1. hangininthere

    hangininthere Well-Known Member

    From Windblade:

    "Hi everyone - welcome to the poetry thread Part III.

    Please share any poems that you love, or ones that you have written.

    And also, reactions and reflections on the poems are always interesting to hear."

    -Windblade


    (Windblade started the poetry threads, and I'm doing the copying and pasting for her, our collaboration.)






    Preface - From 'Dear Heart, Come Home'
    - Joyce Rupp

    the persistent voice of midlife
    wooed and wailed, wept and whined,
    nagged like an endless toothache,
    seduced like an insistent lover,
    promised a guide to protect me
    as I turned intently toward my soul.

    as I stood at the door of "Go Deeper"
    I heard the ego's howl of resistance,
    felt the shivers of my false security
    but knew there could be no other way.
    inward I traveled, down, down,
    drawn further into the truth
    than I ever intended to go.

    as I moved far and deep and long
    eerie things long lain hidden
    jeered at me with shadowy voices,
    while love I'd never envisioned
    wrapped compassionate ribbons
    'round my fearful, anxious heart.

    further in I sank, to the depths,
    past all my arrogance and confusion,
    through all my questions and doubts,
    beyond all I held to be fact.

    finally I stood before a new door:
    the Hall of Oneness and Freedom.
    uncertain and wary, I slowly opened,
    discovering a space of welcoming light.

    I entered the sacred inner room
    where everything sings of Mystery.
    no longer could I deny or resist
    the decay of clenching control
    and the silent gasps of surrender.

    there in that sacred place of my Self,
    Love of a lasting kind came forth,
    embracing me like a long beloved one
    come home for the first time.

    much that I thought to be "me"
    crept to the corners and died.
    in its place a Being named Peace
    slipped beside and softly spoke my name:
    "Welcome home, True Self,
    I've been waiting for you."






    On Being Human
    -C.S. Lewis

    Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence
    Behold the Forms of nature. They discern
    Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities
    Which mortals lack or indirectly learn.
    Transparent in primordial truth, unvarying,
    Pure Earthness and right Stonehood from their clear,
    High eminence are seen; unveiled, the seminal
    Huge Principles appear.

    The Tree-ness of the tree they know-the meaning of
    Arboreal life, how from earth's salty lap
    The solar beam uplifts it; all the holiness
    Enacted by leaves' fall and rising sap;

    But never an angel knows the knife-edged severance
    Of sun from shadow where the trees begin,
    The blessed cool at every pore caressing us
    -An angel has no skin.

    They see the Form of Air; but mortals breathing it
    Drink the whole summer down into the breast.
    The lavish pinks, the field new-mown, the ravishing
    Sea-smells, the wood-fire smoke that whispers Rest.
    The tremor on the rippled pool of memory
    That from each smell in widening circles goes,
    The pleasure and the pang --can angels measure it?
    An angel has no nose.

    The nourishing of life, and how it flourishes
    On death, and why, they utterly know; but not
    The hill-born, earthy spring, the dark cold
    bilberries.
    The ripe peach from the southern wall still hot
    Full-bellied tankards foamy-topped, the delicate
    Half-lyric lamb, a new loaf's billowy curves,
    Nor porridge, nor the tingling taste of oranges.
    An angel has no nerves.

    Far richer they! I know the senses' witchery
    Guards us like air, from heavens too big to see;
    Imminent death to man that barb'd sublimity
    And dazzling edge of beauty unsheathed would be.
    Yet here, within this tiny, charmed interior,
    This parlour of the brain, their Maker shares
    With living men some secrets in a privacy
    Forever ours, not theirs.






    Tenting, Burr Trail, Long Canyon, Escalante
    -Joyce Rupp

    Even when I close my eyes, even later in
    the tent, dreaming, I see banks and rivers running
    red.
    My blood has drunk colors from the stones as if
    it were the meal I needed. I am ready to eat
    any beauty - these vistas of stars, storms.
    The mesas and vermillion cliffs. The light they
    magnify
    into the canyon. The echoes, the distances.
    The rocks carved with ancient knowledge.

    But after vast valleys I am so ready for this
    low notch in the gorge, the intimate cottonwoods
    lifting their leafy skirts and blowing their small
    soft kisses into my tent on the wasteland's
    stringy breath. The spaces between the gusts are rich
    with silence. I am ready to stay in this one place,
    sleep,
    dream, breathe the grace of wind and earth that is
    never too much, and more than I will ever need.

    In this parchment land, the scribble
    and blot of junipers and sagebrush - each crouched
    separate, rooted in its own desert space -
    spreads low to the sand, holding it down
    the way the tent pegs anchor my tent, keep it
    from blowing away. The way I want my words
    to hold, growing maybe an inch a year,
    grateful for the least glisten of dew.







    Manna
    -Joyce Rupp

    "They asked, and he brought quails,
    and gave them food from heaven." Psalms 105:40


    I'm not asking for quails for dinner
    And, if they flew in my window, at mealtime,
    in a torrent of wind, I would think
    aggravation, not miracle.

    Time is so multiple and fluid. If I lose a day
    flying the Pacific and gain it back
    returning, perhaps the prayer I offered
    this morning at first light
    was known and answered last week.

    You never know what a simple request
    will get you. So, no plea for birds
    from heaven. Rather, I will commit myself
    to this quotidian wilderness, watching for what
    the wind may bring me next -
    perhaps a minor wafer tasting like honey
    that I can pick up with my fingers
    and lay on my tongue to ease, for this day,
    my hunger to know.







    Now I Become Myself
    -Mary Sarton

    Now I become myself. It's taken
    Time, many years and places;
    I have been dissolved and shaken,
    Worn other people's faces,
    Run madly, as if Time were there,
    Terribly old, crying a warning,
    "Hurry, you will be dead before--"
    (What? Before you reach the morning?
    Or the end of the poem is clear?
    Or love safe in the walled city?)
    Now to stand still, to be here,
    Feel my own weight and density!
    The black shadow on the paper
    Is my hand; the shadow of a word
    As thought shapes the shaper
    Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
    All fuses now, falls into place
    From wish to action, word to silence,
    My work, my love, my time, my face
    Gathered into one intense
    Gesture of growing like a plant.
    As slowly as the ripening fruit
    Fertile, detached, and always spent,
    Falls but does not exhaust the root,
    So all the poem is, can give,
    Grows in me to become the song,
    Made so and rooted by love.
    Now there is time and Time is young.
    O, in this single hour I live
    All of myself and do not move.
    I, the pursued, who madly ran,
    Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!







    Horses
    -Pablo Neruda

    From the window I saw the horses.

    I was in Berlin, in winter. The light
    was without light, the sky skyless.

    The air white like a moistened loaf.

    From my window, I could see a deserted arena,
    a circle bitten out by the teeth of winter.

    All at once, led out by a single man,
    ten horses were stepping, stepping into the snow.

    Scarcely had they rippled into existence
    like flame, than they filled the whole world of my
    eyes,
    empty till now. Faultless, flaming,
    they stepped like ten gods on broad, clean hoofs,
    their manes recalling a dream of salt spray.

    Their rumps were globes, were oranges.

    Their color was amber and honey, was on fire.

    Their necks were towers
    carved from the stone of pride,
    and in their furious eyes, sheer energy
    showed itself, a prisoner inside them.

    And there, in the silence, at the mid-
    point of the day, in a dirty, disgruntled winter,
    the horses' intense presence was blood,
    was rhythm, was the beckoning light of all being.

    I saw, I saw, and seeing, I came to life.
    There was the unwitting fountain, the dance of gold,
    the sky,
    the fire that sprang to life in beautiful things.

    I have obliterated that gloomy Berlin winter.

    I shall not forget the light from these horses.








    Excerpt From 'Music'
    - Anne Porter

    For centuries on centuries
    We have been wandering
    But we were made for Paradise
    As deer for the forest

    And when music comes to us
    With its heavenly beauty
    It brings us desolation
    For when we hear it
    We half remember
    That lost native country

    We dimly remember the fields
    Their fragrant windswept clover
    The birdsongs in the orchards
    The wild white violets in the moss
    by the transparent streams

    And shining at the heart of it
    Is the longed-for beauty
    Of the One who waits for us
    In those radiant meadows

    Yet also came to live with us
    And wanders where we wander.







    The Avowal
    -Denise Levertov

    As swimmers dare
    to lie face to the sky
    and water bears them,
    as hawks rest upon air
    and air sustains them,
    so would I learn to attain
    freefall, and float
    into Creator Spirit's deep embrace,
    knowing no effort earns
    that all-surrounding grace.







    Prayers From The Ark
    -Carmen Bernos De Gasztold


    Noah's Prayer

    Lord,
    what a menagerie!
    Between Your downpour and these animal cries
    one cannot hear oneself think!
    The days are long,
    Lord.
    All this water makes my heart sink.
    When will the ground cease to rock under my feet?
    The days are long.
    Master Raven has not come back.
    Here is Your dove.
    Will she find us a twig of hope?
    The days are long,
    Lord.
    Guide Your Ark to safety,
    some zenith of rest,
    where we can escape at last
    from this brute slavery.
    The days are long,
    Lord.
    Lead me until I reach the shore of Your covenant.

    Amen.







    The Prayer of the Rooster

    Do not forget, Lord,
    it is I who make the sun rise.
    I am Your servant
    but, with the dignity of my calling,
    I need some glitter and ostentation.
    Noblesse oblige...
    All the same,
    I am Your servant,
    only...do not forget, Lord,
    I make the sun rise.

    Amen.






    The Prayer of the Dog

    Lord,
    I keep watch!
    If I am not here
    who will guard their house?
    Watch over their sheep?
    Be faithful?
    No one but You and I
    understand
    what faithfulness is.
    They call me, "Good dog! Nice dog!"
    Words...
    I take their pats
    and the old bones they throw me
    and I seem pleased.
    They really believe they make me happy.
    I take kicks too
    when they come my way.
    None of that matters.
    I keep watch!
    Lord,
    do not let me die
    until, for them,
    all danger is driven away.

    Amen.






    The Prayer of the Little Pig

    Lord,
    their politeness make me laugh!
    Yes, I grunt!
    Grunt and snuffle!
    I grunt because I grunt
    and snuffle
    because I cannot do anything else!
    All the same, I am not going to thank them
    for fattening me up to make bacon.
    Why did You make me so tender?
    What a fate!
    Lord,
    teach me how to say

    Amen.






    The Prayer of the Donkey

    God, who made me
    to trudge along the road
    always,
    to carry heavy loads
    always,
    and to be beaten
    always!
    Give me great courage and gentleness.
    One day let somebody understand me -
    that I may no longer want to weep
    because I can never say what I mean
    and they make fun of me.
    Let me find a juicy thistle -
    and make them give me time to pick it.
    And, Lord, one day, let me find again
    my little brother of the Christmas crib.

    Amen.






    The Prayer of the Cat

    Lord,
    I am the cat.
    It is not, exactly, that I have something to ask of
    You!
    No -
    I ask nothing of anyone -
    but,
    if you have by some chance, in some celestial barn,
    a little white mouse,
    or a saucer of milk,
    I know someone who would relish them.
    Wouldn't You like someday
    to put a curse on the whole race of dogs?
    If so I should say

    Amen.







    The Prayer of the Owl

    Dust and ashes!
    Lord,
    I am nothing but dust and ashes,
    except for these two riding lights
    that blink gently in the night,
    color of moons,
    and hung on the hook of my beak.
    It is not, Lord, that I hate Your light.
    I wail because I cannot understand it,
    enemy of the creatures of darkness
    who pillage Your crops.
    My hoo-hoo-hooooo
    startles a depth of tears in every heart.
    Dear God,
    one day,
    will it wake Your pity?

    Amen.






    The Prayer Of The Ant

    Lord,
    I am always made out to be wrong;
    a fable to the whole world.
    Certainly I hoard
    and make provision!
    I have my rights!
    And surely I can take a little joy
    in the fruits of all my work
    without some sob singer
    Coming to rob my store?
    There is something in Your justice
    that I scarcely understand,
    and, if You would allow me to advise,
    it might be thought over again.
    I have never been a burden to anybody,
    and, if I may say so,
    I manage my own business very well.
    Then,
    to the incorrigible improvidence
    of some people,
    must I, for all eternity, say

    Amen.






    The Prayer of the Little Ducks

    Dear God,
    give us a flood of water.
    Let it rain tomorrow and always.
    Give us plenty of little slugs
    and other luscious things to eat.
    Protect all folk who quack
    and everyone who knows how to swim.

    Amen.






    The Prayer of the Ox

    Dear god, give me time.
    Men are always so driven!
    Make them understand that I can never hurry.
    Give me time to eat.
    Give me time to plod,
    Give me time to sleep.
    Give me time to think.

    Amen.






    The Prayer of the Glow Worm

    Dear God,
    would You take Your light
    a little farther away
    from me?
    I am like a morsel
    of cinder
    and need Your night
    for my heart to dare
    to flicker out its feeble star:
    its hope, to give to other hearts,
    what can be stolen from all poverty -
    a gleam of joy.

    Amen.







    The Prayer of the Goat

    Lord,
    let me live as I will!
    I need a little wild freedom,
    a little giddiness of heart,
    the strange taste of unknown flowers.
    For whom else are Your mountains?
    Your snow wind? These springs?
    The sheep do not understand.
    They graze and graze,
    all of them, and always in the same direction,
    and then eternally
    chew the cud of their insipid routine.
    But I - I love to bound to the heart of all
    Your marvels,
    leap Your chasms,
    and, my mouth stuffed with intoxicating grasses,
    quiver with an adventurer's delight
    on the summit of the world!

    Amen.







    The Prayer of the Elephant

    Dear God,
    it is I, the elephant,
    Your creature,
    who is talking to You.
    I am so embarrassed by my great self,
    and truly it is not my fault
    if I spoil Your jungle a little with my big feet.
    Le me be careful and behave wisely,
    always keeping my dignity and poise.
    Give me such philosophic thoughts
    that I can rejoice everywhere I go
    in the lovable oddity of things.

    Amen.







    The Prayer of the Dove

    The Ark waits,
    Lord,
    the Ark waits on Your will,
    and the sign of Your peace.
    I am the dove,
    simple
    as the sweetness that comes from You.
    The Ark waits,
    Lord;
    it has endured.
    Let me carry it
    a sprig of hope and joy,
    and put, at the heart of its forsakenness,
    this, in which Your love clothes me,
    Grace immaculate.

    Amen.








    LINES WRITTEN IN HER BREVIARY
    By Saint Theresa


    Let nothing disturb thee,
    Nothing affright thee;
    All things are passing;
    God never changeth;
    Patient endurance
    Attaineth to all things;
    Who God possesseth
    In nothing is wanting;
    Alone God sufficeth.






    If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking
    -Emily Dickinson

    If I can stop one heart from breaking,
    I shall not live in vain;
    If I can ease one life the aching,
    Or cool one pain,
    Or help one fainting robin
    Unto his nest again,
    I shall not live in vain.






    I Thank You God For This Most Amazing
    -e.e. cummings

    i thank You God for most this amazing
    day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
    and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
    which is natural which is infinite which is yes

    (i who have died am alive again today,
    and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
    day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
    great happening illimitably earth)

    how should tasting touching hearing seeing
    breathing any--lifted from the no
    of all nothing--human merely being
    doubt unimaginable You?

    (now the ears of my ears awake and
    now the eyes of my eyes are opened)






    For My Brother: Reported Missing In Action, 1943
    -Thomas Merton

    Sweet brother, if I do not sleep
    My eyes are flowers for your tomb;
    And if I cannot eat my bread,
    My fasts shall live like willows where you died.
    If in the heat I find no water for my thirst,
    My thirst shall turn to springs for you, poor
    traveller.

    Where, in what desolate and smokey country,
    Lies your poor body, lost and dead?
    And in what landscape of disaster
    Has your unhappy spirit lost its road?

    Come, in my labor find a resting place
    And in my sorrows lay your head,
    Or rather take my life and blood
    And buy yourself a better bed --
    Or take my breath and take my death
    And buy yourself a better rest.

    When all the men of war are shot
    And flags have fallen into dust,
    Your cross and mine shall tell men still
    Christ died on each, for both of us.

    For in the wreckage of your April Christ lies slain,
    And Christ weeps in the ruins of my spring;
    The money of Whose tears shall fall
    Into your weak and friendless hand,
    And buy you back to your own land:

    The silence of Whose tears shall fall
    Like bells upon your alien tomb.
    Hear them and come: they call you home.






    Peace
    -Henry Vaughan

    My soul, there is a country
    Far beyond the stars,
    Where stands a wingèd sentry
    All skilful in the wars:
    There, above noise and danger,
    Sweet Peace sits crown'd with smiles,
    And One born in a manger
    Commands the beauteous files.
    He is thy gracious Friend,
    And—O my soul, awake!—
    Did in pure love descend
    To die here for thy sake.
    If thou canst get but thither,
    There grows the flower of Peace,
    The Rose that cannot wither,
    Thy fortress, and thy ease.
    Leave then thy foolish ranges;
    For none can thee secure
    But One who never changes—
    Thy God, thy life, thy cure.






    God Send Easter
    -Lucille Clifton

    And we will lace the
    jungle on
    and step out
    brilliant as birds
    against the concrete country
    feathers waving as we
    dance towards Jesus
    sun reflecting mango
    and apple as we
    glory in our skin.





    The Annunciation
    -Edwin Muir

    The angel and the girl are met,
    Earth was the only meeting place,
    For the embodied never yet
    Travelled beyond the shore of space.
    The eternal spirits in freedom go.

    See, they have come together, see,
    While the destroying minutes flow,
    Each reflects the other's face
    Till heaven in hers and earth in his
    Shine steady there. He's come to her
    From far beyond the farthest star,
    Feathered through time. Immediacy
    of strangest strangeness is the bliss
    That from their limbs all movement takes.
    Yet the increasing rapture brings
    So great a wonder that it makes
    Each feather tremble on his wings.

    Outside the window footsteps fall
    Into the ordinary day
    And with the sun along the wall
    Pursue their unreturning way
    That was ordained in eternity.
    Sound's perpetual roundabout
    Rolls its numbered octaves out
    And hoarsely grinds its battered tune.

    But through the endless afternoon
    These neither speak nor movement make,
    But stare into their deepening trance
    As if their gaze would never break.








    How Shall I Pray
    -Ted Loder

    How shall I pray?
    Are tears prayers, Lord?
    Are screams prayers,
    or groans
    or sighs
    or curses?
    Can trembling hands be lifted to you,
    or clenched fists
    or the cold sweat that trickles down my back
    or the cramps that knot my stomach?
    Will you accept my prayers, Lord,
    my real prayers,
    rooted in the muck and the mud and the rock of my
    life,
    and not just my pretty, cut-flower, gracefully
    arranged
    bouquet of words?
    Will you accept me, Lord,
    as I really am,
    messed up mixture of glory and grime?
    Lord, help me!
    Help me to trust that you do accept me as I am,
    that I may be done with self-condemnation
    and self-pity
    and accept myself.
    Help me to accept you as you are, Lord:
    mysterious,
    hidden,
    strange,
    unknowable;
    and yet to trust
    that your madness is wiser
    than my timid, self-seeking sanities,
    and that nothing you've ever done
    has really been possible,
    so I may dare to be a little mad, too.







    [This Message was Edited on 05/31/2009]
  2. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    God is working His purposes out,
    As year succeeds to year;
    God is working His purpose out
    And the time is drawing near-
    Nearer and nearer draws the time
    The time that will surely be,
    When the earth shall surely be filled with the glory of God
    As the waters cover he sea.

    A.C Ainger.
  3. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    My life is but a weaving, between my God and me,
    I do not choose the colours, He worketh steadily,
    Oftimes He woveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
    Forget He sees the upper, and I see the underside.
    Not till the loom is silent, and shuttles cease to fly,
    Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why
    The dark threads are as needful in the skilful Weaver's hand,
    As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

    Anonymous.
  4. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    O love of God, how deep and great,
    Far deeper than man's deepest hate.
  5. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    We follow a scarred Captain,
    Should we not have scars?
    Under His faultless orders
    We follow to the wars.
    Lestwe forget, Lord, when we meet,
    Show us Thy hands and feet.

    Amy Carmichael.


    There's a land that is fairer than day,
    And by faith we can see it afar.
    For the Father waits over the way,
    To prepare us a dwelling place there.
    In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore.
    In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

    Part of an old gospel song.
  6. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    When she enters the beautiful city
    And the saved all around her appear,
    Many people around her will tell her:
    It was you who invited me here.

    Author unknown.
  7. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    Lord I am one of many within your great creation,
    You called me by name and I fell in Love
    I will follow You all the days of my life,
    Why Oh why Lord am I so lost, Please come find me

    Trudging through the mire that surrounds me
    My feet are laiden with heaviness,
    I cry out to The Living God,
    Have you forgotten me O Lord?

    Despair is so near, it threatens to consume me
    Self pity and fleshly desires rage within,
    I cry out to you, My Lord
    Why do I want so much out of life?

    Is there seeds of greatness planted within
    Can meaning and purpose be attained?
    Lord I ask Thee over and over, I cannot hear,
    The silence is deafening

    In my simpleness, I ask for wisdom and mercy
    In my pain, I ask for relief,
    In my lack, I ask for abundance
    In my aloneness I ask for companionship.

    Fatherless and husbandless, I ask for Love and provision
    Exhausted and burdened, I ask for restoration
    In my confusion and struggles, I ask for Peace
    Throughout the battles and tests I ask for strength.

    I see You in the beauty of a new day dawning
    I feel You kiss me as the warm breeze hushes by
    I hear You whisper in the warmth of the afternoon sun
    A whisper that says 'Be still and know that I am God'

    Your word and promises assure me, In You I have hope,
    My Lord You are so near, yet so far.
  8. windblade

    windblade Active Member


    Hi, it was great to come here and find you both wrote new poems!

    I love the way poetry can contain anything and everything, every kind of experience and emotion.

    I read both of your poems quite a few times, and will read them again. There is so much to them, and in them!

    Tig,

    I could live through your whole poem with you.

    And I can relate to it and understand it, because of great unfulfilled longings of my own, that cause such shattering pain.

    Of being on the edge - of survival, and life -it feels like.

    I love the line "It sits like an egg on a shelf hard and soft at the same time."

    And holding on through all the 'withouts'.

    Yet still surviving, and choosing dignity.

    "Just give me my dignity, so I can carry the rest of my life".

    Lots of courage, Tig! And a wonderful poem, again capturing so much! I'm so glad you wrote another one!



  9. windblade

    windblade Active Member


    Hi Cindy,

    Wow, you wrote another one! I was just at your other post, about 'questioning why', and this poem seems to answer that.

    I love this conversation/prayer to the Lord. It spells out to me my inner self and my experiences also. And the feelings, and deep pleadings of the heart.

    It reminds me of the Psalms! I think so many people can relate to it, and have it speak for them.

    This is so exciting, watching all the new poems coming to life.

    And thank you for sharing the other poems - that are filled with hope. Amy Carmichael has been a great encouragement to me. I read her book after she was a missionary, and then had a bad accident, and was disabled. I think it's 'Rose from briar'.

    I also think that the friendship that you and Tiggy have is so beautiful.





  10. windblade

    windblade Active Member


    Hi Littleblue,

    I hope you caught the reply's to your poem/song that were at the end of the last Poetry thread.

    And that you will be sharing more.

    God Bless.
  11. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    Its late here in Australia, the kids are asleep I have some minutes to myself.
    I have just read through the thread, words are so amazing!
    Its funny that in real life, we don't often share our innermost thoughts and feelings, yet to read others expressions, or write whats in our heart is so real.

    Tiggy,
    I just read your poem through and meditated on it, I love that you are so expressive, you have given so much of yourself and been hurt, you are brave for taking that risk.
    Some people never take the risk of truly loving I know I haven't.

    Patti and Judy,
    Hi, I feel like we have hogged the post today!, and going back and reading the poems is like reading the Psalms! or Job. Judy its so true that suffering and hardship is reality for most of us, a hard truth to accept.

    Patti I hope you are rested and join us soon.

    God Bless, I am sending prayers to Heaven for each of you.

    Cindy.
  12. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    I always love littleblues posts, so solid and wise, I'm guessing you are a traditional person Littleblue, with a deep love for Jesus.

    Judy,
    Thankyou for all your kind words, Girl we are waiting for your poems!!!(no pressure)

    This website has been so amazing, God has blessed me with 2 friends from this site, both very different amazing people, I know God purposed our paths to cross, and I hope and pray I will meet them in person in my lifetime.

    Tiggy and I correspond through email, post and phone, its amazing, and I hope she doesn't mind me telling you that she is a gorgeous beautiful woman, just stunning in looks and just as stunning on the inside! A true individual with depth, a servant of the Lord and the apple of His eye. Please join me in prayer for Tiggy, that Father God will Bless her with a husband, a companion, a provider, a lover, the man that God has destined for her, a man of God, a man of intergrity, I want that so much for her!

    Nite all, God Bless, I am so thankful for the love and kindness here.

    Cindy.
  13. windblade

    windblade Active Member

    I thought of you when I saw this poem by May Sarton for the first time, in a book of poems on women's spirituality last night.

    It has a strong Tiggy - flavor.
  14. windblade

    windblade Active Member


    This is great stuff that you brought! Emily Dickinson is such a wonderful poet, and I love the 'Hope' poem. "Hope is the thing with feathers".

    What an inspiration you had to bring the childhood poems.
    It seriously made me want to swing on a swing again! What a glorious feeling.

    The rhythms and rhymes in the poems are so satisfying to hear again. They all brought a smile to my face, and happy memories of playing with friends as a child.

    I've always wondered from my childhood in the 50's - where did all the great, intricate, 'jumping rope' chants come from? They were so complicated and so much fun.

    Luckily I came across your post on the end of the first poetry thread. It was very timely, because just last night I was looking through poetry books and anthologies to choose for this thread.

    And I found wonderful favorite ones about horses and cats. And I'm thinking that this thread should expand to include the marvelous things that God has created. To give us joy and celebrate all the extraordinary things in the world!

    So, please bring your pony poems.
  15. windblade

    windblade Active Member

    Thank you for your encouragement. I love finding poems for this thread, and love to see the talent emerging. It is a great joy and satisfaction to me.

    I chose the 'Horses' poem because it is one that has been important to me for over 30 years! And now, reading it again, it is even better than ever.

    Great poems just grow like that,I think. And we as readers grow.

    I also remembered that you said you loved Pablo Neruda's poems about a year ago on a post.



    [This Message was Edited on 05/31/2009]
  16. windblade

    windblade Active Member


    What exceptional poems these are! You captured the whole character of your 'Chica' pony, and the way you used the repetitive rhymes inside the lines gives such a jaunty swiftness to the poem.

    It makes me ache for how much I wanted a pony as a child.
    This is just how I imagined it would be.


    And the sorrow of loss, and certainty of seeing her again. I know that will be the same of my beloved dog of 15 years, my only dog, who I loved so completely.

    And the second one catches your pony's essence in all the particulars that haiku, and tanka use.

    Achingly beautiful!

    I'm so impressed, littleblue, by your use of form, and different types of poems. Such excellent craftsmanship.

    How did you develop your writing in this way?

    I so hope you will keep writing, and sharing more.

    Thank you for this wonderful contribution.
  17. windblade

    windblade Active Member


    Yes, that is the title of the book, and the author. So, so glad you liked them!

  18. windblade

    windblade Active Member

    LINES WRITTEN IN HER BREVIARY
    By Saint Theresa


    Let nothing disturb thee,
    Nothing affright thee;
    All things are passing;
    God never changeth;
    Patient endurance
    Attaineth to all things;
    Who God possesseth
    In nothing is wanting;
    Alone God sufficeth.



    [This Message was Edited on 05/31/2009]
  19. Sweetpotatoe

    Sweetpotatoe New Member

    I love how easy it is to relate to others words about so many subjects.
    Littleblue I loved your poem too! Although I never had a horse, I can understand the love that girls have for horses.

    I found some Helen Steiner Rice poems today, I love her work.

    "Climb 'Til Your Dream Comes True"

    Often your tasks will be many,
    And more than you think you can do...
    Often the road will be rugged
    And the hills insurmountable, too...
    But always remember,
    the hills ahead
    Are never as steep as they seem,
    And with Faith in your heart
    Start upward
    And climb 'til you reach your dream,
    For nothing in life that is worthy
    Is ever too hard to achieve
    If you have the courage to try it
    And you have the Faith to believe...
    For Faith is a force that is greater
    Than Knowledge or power or skill
    And many defeats turn to truimph
    If you trust in God's wisdom and will...
    For Faith is a mover of mountains,
    There's nothing that God cannot do,
    So start out today
    With Faith in your heart
    And "Climb 'Til Your Dream Comes True".

    Helen Steiner Rice.
  20. windblade

    windblade Active Member


    I can really see how that poem would be encouraging and inspiring to you and others.

    So glad that you're enjoying this thread, and writing, and sharing poems you love!