a poem in my pocket

my full moon-struck mind

meanders across misted expanse

catching on pinpricks of stars;

bumped off-course by wind howl

awakens foggy with dreams shredded.

Thank you, Father,
for ears to hear the
cacophonous symphony
of your amazing world;
each ear catches sound
and plays its own drum,
as tiny hammer, anvil
and stirrup ossicles
vibrate liquid waves
through spiraled cochlea
where hair receptors translate
electrical impulse to brain,
recognizing robin’s song

Blessed are you, great Designer!

Thank you, Father
for eyes to see the
panoramic kaleidoscope
of your amazing world;
each eye catches light
and refracts it through
pupil and lens aperture
as it passes through
vitreous humour jelly
to focus image on retina
where photoreceptors
translate electrical impulse
to brain by optic nerve,
recognizing child’s face.

Blessed are you, mighty Creator!

Response to David Whyte’s “Blessing for Sound” and “Blessing for Light” poems featured at dVerse poets tonight. Whom do we bless? Whom do we thank?

We celebrate starlorn season
and imagine it will always be
the way of traditional reason.

A quiet comfort finds me
hanging handmade ornaments
on lisolia of worn Christmas tree.

Can’t ignore niggling etherness
of family Christmas gathering;
another empty place at meal.

Alpert trumpets carols on CD
which triggers sharp heartspur
as one of Dad’s favorites on key.

Once our parents leave home,
we become orphans in the world;
itchy heartmoor destined to roam.

Sleepy grandchild’s goodbye hug
and door closes in aftergloom of
wrapping paper and crumbs on rug.

Linda Lee Lyberg introduces dVerse poets to The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig…you may need it to figure out the words in this poem.

At advent, we may miss seeing God due to our own inattention.

If you think of all the women gone before us…it’s like seeing a parade of “who’s who” pass by. Consider biblical real-life women like Eve, Noah’s wife, Sarah, Rebekah, Ruth and Hannah, Abigail and Bathsheba (both wives to King David), Queen Esther, Elizabeth, Mary mother of our Lord and Mary Magdalene, Lydia (seller of purple) and Lois, Priscilla.

Women of faith and courage; servants affected by sin. Royal daughters of God Almighty, moved by his Spirit. Each born for “such a time as this” with a purpose to live out. Some prayed earnestly for a child, others were chosen to bear one of special calling. Like us, they suffered deep grief and struggled with life’s challenges. By God’s grace, they obeyed his word for their lives, even when walking in the dark.

I dress in their stories patterned and purple as night.

Prosery prompt at  dVerse with (last) line taken from Kimberly Blaeser’s poem, “When We Sing of Might”. Please read more about Ms. Blaeser here.

grateful to waken early
with breath in my lungs
brew savory cup of tea
hear ancient word speak

layer leggings & jeans,
turtleneck & farm coat,
wool hat with braided
tassles, insulated boots

grateful to leave house
in dark under moonsliver
glance of morning star on
walk to vintage white barn

feed (pet,referee) cats first
measure buckets for cows
clean out bunk and pause
by old hayshed, hear moos

of sunrise, watch that scene
unfurl glorious promises of
another fresh day above the
silhouette of neighbor’s farm

In response to two prompts: gratitude poem that starts with morning at Tweetspeak with Callie and  poem with a line from ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” (italics) with Lillian and Bjorn at dVerse Poets.