parade of purple

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.

fragmented insomnia

highest bidder
took the rook
who bowed ceremoniously
as the crowd realized…
myopic leprechauns
couldn’t read
last row of vision chart
for all the armadillos
in iowa.

now we see-through
(unpolished)
looking-glass
while learning to crochet
in the dark garden
with gnomes who have filed
judiciously brief amicus curiae
on behalf of sterile
crocuses.

 

IMG_0468

Gnome in Reiman Gardens at ISU – photo by lynn


A modern “fragment” poem for dVerse with Laura …not sure i achieved the goal but sometimes it’s just plain fun to play with words and write something nonsensical!

reasons to linger

what’s sweeter than a yellow pear

dripping ripeness, with a wedge of cheese?

what’s sweeter than a sleepy kiss

enfolding lovers with a warm embrace?

what’s sweeter than a baby’s toothless smile

dimpling cheeks with responsive coos?

thanks living

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.

crater lagoon, nicaragua

one-midsummer-morning-at-rydal-web

ubiquitous mists of cloud forest
layered in reflective lagoon’s
volcanic depths harboring ancient
crustaceans which rarely dare to
skim surface to kiss rhythmic raindrop
ripples while howler monkeys
groom their mates and sloths sleep
in green arms of upper canopy

farmers of nearby village
oblivious to jaguar’s hunger
herd a meager group of thin
cows past tin huts with leaky banana-
leaf thatched roofs, making mud of
dirt floors where chickens scratch
and little children play with pebbles
while mamas prepare tortillas


Ekphrastic poetry at dVerse poets’ pub featuring the late Fay Collins’ artwork…actual location is a matter of interpretation!

quiet word

How to give thanks with chaos in the world, breakdown in the family? Death and violence, divorce and mental illness, “us against them” polarization… good humor is hard to come by when life feels like a tragedy. We search for stability, a grounding.

Where is God when needed? Seems too high and mighty above our fractiousness. Is he deaf to his creatures’ pitiful whimpers and loud tantrums alike? Disillusioned with ancient oracles of dead prophets, we grasp for meaning.

In dusky silence, a singular sunset leisurely paints the sky above fields of round cornstalk bales. Hot pink and purple hues deepen, clouds set on fire, eyes cannot resist, breath catches at heavenly drama. Radio plays song, When You Speak* and inexplicable peace envelops my soul.

moonrise to sunset
skies shimmer with his glory
give us thankful hearts


Join Frank J. Tassone and dVerse poets who are serving haibuns and giving thanks this week. Reference to song by Jeremy Camp heard on K-LOVE.

giving thanks

cold turkey thaws in filled sink,

every year bigger butterball bird;

add honey ham to feed multitude

by marriage, births, or invitation.

gathered ingredients weeks ahead

cheesy baked corn aroma wafts up

daughter-in-love will make pies or

dinner rolls to bring to feast while

grandma feels a bit overwhelmed by

her family blessings and potato skins;

wipes tearful prayers on fresh apron.

day in court

th-2

day in court, all rise;
expect guilty verdict

judge Jesus presides,
accuser will prosecute

satan spits, “shame!”
and defendant cowers

arraigned and censured,
confess “guilty as charged”

prosecutor hisses, smug,
demands death penalty

judge and defense confer
surprise pardon granted!

penalty paid in full…
released on blood bond

poetic response

Why DID chicken cross the road?

She wanted to be POULTRY in motion!

why-did-chicken-cross-road-visual-description-age-old-children-s-quiz-214762149

image from dreamstime.com

november dusting

 

first snowflake on tongue

whirling,  swirling,  drifting down

taste of winter chill

 

_____________

Haiku usually do not have titles but… i like titles for my blog posts!

bright idea

 

breezy
october fun
expedition to patch
grandchildren hunt for perfect pick
PUMPKIN!
take orange globe home to carve it
light a candle inside
jack-o-lantern
big smiles

 

IMG_0205

 


Colleen Chesebro’s challenge to write a butterfly cinquain with one color word in it.  A butterfly cinquain is 9 lines of 2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2 syllables.

ethiopian ethos

among the

majang people,

little children

will rub their

empty bellies

and cry to

their parents

“lak-a-ngwa”

i am starving!

_______

souls, too, feel

growling hunger

for real food

of good word

as eager people

gather round

to listen to a

talking bible!

_______

jesus prayed,

multiplied bread

to nourish

thousands

and disciples

gathered up

leftovers…

do we have

crumbs to spare?

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries