What does it take to get out my paints? It takes empty hours with no constraints, Quiet surroundings and clean, neat spaces, Room to explore my artistic graces, No distractions of any kind, And most of all, a willing mind – Willing to try and fail, To be patient with small detail, Accepting whatever the outcome, Even if it’s humdrum; Such perfect circumstances are rare, Which means I need to begin with prayer.
Restless activity, low productivity; Hard to sleep, trying to keep Peace of mind while feeling inclined To fear the worst, like your heart will burst; Because of the weight of the long, lonely Wait.
One waits for a job offer As unemployment empties the coffer. One waits for college acceptance, Hoping their chosen path will commence. One waits for blood-work findings As their pain keeps on grinding. One waits for biopsy results; Braving the unknown like an adult.
All feel fragile and nervous, Needing our sympathy, support and service. Having a friend by their side Can turn the tide Of fear, anxiety and depression, Giving their fears and hopes expression, Assured that we care Because their burden we share Through the long, lonely Wait.
Speaking of waiting, I haven’t been able to create a poem every day lately, and it feels like too long a time between poems!
My mind isn’t what it used to be. Or, rather, it isbecoming what it used to be fifty years ago! Maybe it’s not so bad being young again… To have a young mind is to live in the moment to be thrilled by the simple things and to throw off the cares of the world because they are boring and complicated I am grateful for every blessing every comfort and every protection While I grow younger.
The last time I saw the stars in the sky Was 20 years ago (big sigh!) Stars were falling every few seconds A heavenly meteor shower beckoned I want to fly! The last time I looked out over the great Columbia River Was 25 years ago (makes me shiver) Every time I see that expanse I feel the pull to take a chance I want to fly! The last time I flew a kite Was 40 years ago (that’s right) Such graceful, delightful dips and turns… By now you’ve pretty much learned I want to fly! The last time I was swung ’round hand-to-hand Was 50 years ago (it was grand!) Weightless, free Soaring, wheeee! I want to fly! A swing is the closest I’ve ever been To actually flying through the air (makes me grin) It’s always tempting to just let go and sail But Ouch!! The landing – Oh!! The wail… I want to fly! But I’ll not try
This poem reminds me of a time when a swing really did make me fly. I was four or five years old, swinging on the kind of swing that has a handle for hands which extends also down to the feet. It's like a pump I guess, and as the handle is pushed back and forth by feet and hands, it propels the swing. I was inexperienced and didn't know that one can go too far up, to the point where the handlebar pushes down past the dinosaur head decoration. Well, that's exactly what I did, not knowing the meaning of the word limits, and I went flying off that swing and landed face first in the sand pit across from the swing set. I was astonished, wondering what just happened! I learned to respect the limitations of swings, haha.
My word department is a mess It needs to be re-wired. The gal who ran it all my life Has recently retired. In her place is a lazy bum Who won't do what's required.
Keeping track of language I admit, can be a chore. That's why there was a system Of files in boxes and drawers. But now when a word is used and sent back She just tosses it onto the floor While she watches her favorite shows With her feet propped up on the door.
In her defense she says She's created a better way; All that filing and alphabetizing Was wasting her very good day. So when I send the signal To find a particular say, She just dips her hand in the sea of tossed words That surrounds her comfortable quay. Grabbing the first one she feels, It gets hurled through the matter gray, Comes rolling off my tongue in a flash, But it's not the right word What?! - Hey!!
I don't think these little poems Are doing much for me. It's hard to be creative; I've forgotten how to be Imaginative Impulsive How to set my thoughts free. Nevertheless, I do enjoy To make a rhyme or two, or three; If nothing else, there's rhythm Like a happy melody.
A goal, a dream, a desire Do these belong to me? Currently I am striving To patiently wait for thee
I live to serve you Darlin’ But the things you really need Are things I cannot give you So I wish you all God-speed While you give it all you’ve got To brave the risky way I am here to cheer you on And listen to all you say
You have a dream and a desire You seek like-minded men What exactly am I seeking? Have I lost my way again?
Is there a goal of my own? In which direction am I reaching? My little daily tasks cannot Live up to this high teaching
To entertain myself I consider your lofty thoughts… I remember an old dream In which I had my Have-Nots
What I Have-Not is a voice that sings As clear as a church-bell chime, An imagination that makes music, A feel for rhythm, an ear for time
My dream is so much bigger And higher than I can be That I lose all my desire, Yet Desire is the Key
1. I desired my Creator And found his love so free; 2. I desired you, my darlin’ Now you’re devoted to me; 3. I desired to have children And was blessed with three;
Now I see the pattern, Now I understand If I have it All within me Then it doesn’t seem so grand
What I truly want and wish for Is out of my control I have part of the equation But need God to make it whole
With this lesson understood I shall rethink my position If my dream is making music Pray, God make me a musician
And while I wait expectantly For this ‘miracle’ to happen I can work on rhyme and rhythm I can get my fingers snappin’
I can do my part to listen To the voice of my own soul It will be given from above As I learn to let it flow