The Powers of the World

I cried out to the wind so wild,
"Save me, save me, from this terror!"
But the wind then answered,
"I shall not, I shall not,
For I am but a breeze.
I can do nothing against this terror."

I cried out to the earth so deep,
"Pull me from this sinking hole!"
The earth then answered,
"I cannot, will not,
For I am but dust,
There is naught that I can do."

I cried out to the sea so wide,
"Take me, take me, from this road!"
The sea but laughed,
"I will not, shall not,
For I am but water,
And I have no wish to help you."

I trod along the road so long,
Despairing as I went.
For there was naught,
Of wind or land or sea,
That would save me from these things,
Those that wrapped me so tightly,
I could not carry on, for they were myself,
And me and I.

But there a light,
A light through the darkening fog!
And so, by grace alone, I found,
The only thing that drew me out from myself,
And gave me life anew.

I knew naught that this thing existed,
Others like myself.
I knew not what to do,
With all these like, and yet so different.
They shared with me the road they took,
Of their cries and their despairs.
And in this all, I found,
Despite all powers of the world,
That friendship is the only thing,
The very only thing!
That makes a heart beat clean.

Cats

Big cats and little cats,

Fluffy cats and furry cats,

Solar powered cats,

Old cats, baby cats,

Every cat is different,

But I like every cat.

Rain

Drip, drop.

Drip, drop.

Little drops,

Big drops,

Falling down.

Drip, drop.

Drip, drop.

On my nose;

On my glasses.

Now I cannot see.

Sing Like the Bird

We shall sing like the bird

And cry like the wind.

Our hearts laugh as one

And their song brings life.

We are a chord,

Apart we are incomplete

Together we are full.

The world is calling

We must go to her.

There are those whose hearts are broken

And we must heal them.

Our song shall make them whole

Our hearts' laughter, fill them.

The cry of our mourning will never be heard

For we only grieve for others.

When shall we ever give thought to ourselves?

Christmas

I love Christmas. So (surprise) I wrote a poem about it. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Away in a manger,

Emmanuel has come.

Carols are sung, 

The cold winter air,

Whistles through coats.

Trees are decorated,

Lights are hung.

Gifts are wrapped,

With utmost care.

Eyes are bright,

With anticipation,

Of presents gifted

And gifts presented.

The birthday of the King,

All is made new.

Days of the Year

I was informed that today was Poetry Day, so I thought I would write a short poem. :)

Days of the year

Fly by so fast.

Everything goes

Like wind in the grass.

Days of the year,

Gone like a flash.

Why must we rush them?

Slow down and relax.

Books

Works of art rest on works of art,

Carvings frame rows upon rows of new worlds.

So beautiful, so untouched,

Are these inky worlds.


But how,

If left in this manner,

Will new worlds be discovered?

If no one reads them,

How can one be inspired by them?


Works of art

Become a resting place for minuscule remains,

Of a life gone by,

When works of art were devoured,

With a passion, and yet,

A delicacy, fitting of nobility.


What is this beauty,

If not to call?

What means this world,

If not to inspire?

What do we truly gain,

By losing ourselves?

Waves

Waves wrought with wind,

Thrum against the nature-molded walls,

Of high reaching, ever leaching stone.

Emerald surges rise and fall,

Crested by bubbling spray.

Bright light fractures into

A thousand resplendent hues.

A million tiny droplets rush

To touch the stars,

And fall, innocuous,

To rest at the tip

Of my bare toes.