Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts

Monday, September 18, 2017

Autumn's Arrival Affects Our Feelings

Let's take a look at the calendar for September and October. Does it hold significant days for you? Perhaps a wedding anniversary or loved one's birthday? What about your own birthday? Will you make your cake this year?

Or how about the change of season?

Almost subconsciously, that change affects our feelings. Fragrant smells like burning leaves, pumpkins, tomatoes or apple cider recall dim pictures to our mind and poignant yearnings to our heart. Autumn especially speaks to me. Perhaps its because I'm in that season of my own life. These thoughts tumbled through my mind while I was down on my knees working the soil in Ohio one year, a string of strong metaphors as summer passes away...

by Ferree Hardy

Dry, brittle leaves crumble in my fingers
Like pages from a diary
a hundred years ago
smelling of spent sunshine

Others fold golden curls
Over slugs and molds
And work decay through winter
Unseen, unheard, unhindered

Yellow jackets buzz
Summoned by sticky sap
Unaware of days to come
Their wings brush my skin

All these days of autumn will "fall" upon us, be aware so they don't catch you by surprise. If you want to treat them like just another day, that's a valid option. If you want to open your senses and your heart to hold them close, then do something special, give them honor. The thing is-- you have a choice. Exercising that choice is a step towards life.

This September as you begin to see your garden fade, be mindful of the harvest too. Take hope and remember that God truly does work things together for our good ... even you. If you've already believed in Christ as your Savior from sin, begin to spend time in the Bible and learn to know Him as your Savior of the harvest: each memory, each breath, each tear... they all matter.

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Morning Hymn - Psalm 108

I wrote this poem years ago when a friend's mother was dying. I'd read Psalm 108:1-5 that morning, as some of you have read today. (I'm sure a phrase or two of my poem will echo from the psalm, although it doesn't follow it exactly). 
Thinking of my friend and her mom early that morning I wanted to ponder the dawning of a new day, a saint's heavenly birth, and our Father God's glory in it all. Scripture spoke to me in a special way, and I hope it will do the same for you.

by Ferree Hardy

I wake before dawn
and in the dark
 begin the song
of ancient ways
and steadfast praise

With each note
 the darkness fades
A rooster crows,
and spider sews
 one last strand on her
dewdrop doily

Birds arouse
They join in
Mourning dove,
Robin, wren
Singing of You,
the Giver of all

Your goodness freshens
it brings cool hint
 of snow and mint
to salt-stained skin
Red-brimmed eyes
and sadness-fevered

Father of health
and life itself
with love beyond
the stratosphere
and faithfulness that
fills the sky
Your glory orbs
the earth we hear

 And wrapped in shimmering
it reaches down to
collect the songs
of one weak woman
and birds.

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Poem: Christmas In Heaven

Christmas in Heaven

(author unknown)

I've had my first Christmas in Heaven
A Glorious, wonderful day.
I stood with the saints of the ages,
who found Christ the Truth and the Way.

I sang with the Heavenly Choir:
Just think: I who longed so to sing!
And oh, what celestial music
we brought to our Savior and King!

We sang the glad songs of redemption,
How Jesus to Bethlehem came,
And how they called His name Jesus,
That all might be saved through His name.

We sang once again with the angels,
The song that they sang that blest morn,
When shepherds first heard the glad story
That Jesus, the Savior, was born.

Oh, how I wish you had been there:
No Christmas on earth could compare
With all the rapture and glory
We witnessed in Heaven so fair.

You know how I always loved Christmas;
It seemed such a wonderful day,
With all of my loved ones around me
The children so happy and gay.

Yes, now I can see why I loved it:
And oh, what a joy it will be
When you and my loved ones are with me:
To share in the glories I see.

So dear ones on earth, here's my greeting:
Look up till the day dawn appears,
And oh, what a Christmas awaits us,
Beyond all our parting and tears.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Look Beyond

God rested, and so should we. Please be good to yourself and set aside some time this weekend to rest your soul. Read Scripture, pray, or spend some moments practicing the fine. art. of. doing. nothing. Rest.

Attend church and allow yourself to be ministered to, even if it's hard to go. It's like strong medicine.
This world won't last forever, yet our scurryings and obsessions are banked on today. We're out of focus, but resting helps us right our lenses. The following poem looks beyond today's hassles; looking beyond to our heavenly home helps us lay things right in our earthly home.

This world is not
A sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles;
Philosophies don't know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown
Contempt of generations,
And crucifixion known.

--Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Monday, February 6, 2012

Gone From My Sight

Gone From My Sight
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”
And that is dying.

Monday, December 26, 2011

God Moves In A Mysterious Way . . .

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
William Cowper (1731-1800)

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Rest Patiently In God's Plan


Then be content, poor heart!
God's plans, like lilies pure and
white, unfold;
We must not tear the close-
knit leaves apart--
Time will reveal the calyxes of
            --Mary Louise Riley Smith (1824-1927)

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Wisdom for Widows

There was a title of a book that has always played in the back of my mind. I never read the book, it seems the title said it all for me---Don't Waste Your Sorrows. And this little poem says the same, and so does yesterday's video, 1000 Moments.

I always wonder at how the Lord brings these threads of a common theme here to the WCP at times. Are you the one who needed to hear this word today? Am I? To open our eyes, our arms, our heart, even in the midst of pain? It is sooo worth it, each breath, each fragrance, each salty tear. So live today, embrace all it holds, for a new day will come, maybe its today.

Do not cheat thy
Heart and tell her,
"Grief will pass away,
Hope for fairer times in future,
And forget today."

Tell her, if you will, that sorrow
Need not come in vain;
Tell her that the lesson taught her
Far outweighs the pain.

--Adelaide Ann Procter (1825-1864)

Monday, July 4, 2011

Along The Road

I Walked a Mile with Pleasure
-Robert Browning Hamilton

I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When sorrow walked with me.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Friday Funnie: An Inspirational Poem


So far today,
I've done all right.
I haven't gossiped,
Lost my temper,
Been greedy or grumpy,
Been nasty, selfish or overindulgent.
I'm thankful for that.

But in a few minutes, God,
I'm going to get out of bed.
And from then on,
I'm probably going to need a lot more help.