a poem in my pocket

We wish our loved ones in our arms could stay

but sovereign God upon the throne he sits.

As long as we have breath, life’s stage we play,

performing to extent of strength and wits.

We take (or miss) our cues by starts and fits;

laugh at ourselves in life’s strange comedy.

Joy of our moment in the spotlight flits;

last curtain calls for death’s dark tragedy.

As lights go dim, the end brings tear to eye;

the pain of letting go stings oh so smart.

Remembering best scenes will make us cry;

lead actor’s lines forever in our heart.

Around me gather when life ends with moan,

when God directs, I’ll rise from vault of stone!

-Dedicated to memory of Lisa Wielenga, taken at age 29.  She believed!

Bouts-Rimés (pronounced Boo-ReeMay) is French for “rhymed ends” and is the name given to a rhyming game of poets.  I wrote this sonnet using a list of ending words for each line, to be used in order given (more info at: dVerse Poets)

our farmhouse kitchen,
my flavored hub in the
noisy business of life

antique desk, (un)sorted mail
dishwasher hum, recipes, books
lists of vegetables, partial poems

big table, oak with leaves,
stands center stage; set for
family feast and circle of prayer

guests welcomed into our
mess, pull up a sticky chair
where happy grandchild sat

they’ve all gone outside
to play, or work in the sun;
a lull until the next meal.

This poem, linked to dVerse poetics, incorporates a line (italic) from “Burning the Old Year”, a poem by Naoi Shihab Nye.