a poem in my pocket

dawn

of first day

God speaks:

“Let there be Light!”

brilliance bursts forth

illuminates the void

chases darkness

into its corners

earth’s history

begins

photo by lynn: Bougainvillea (Israel)

Advent means “coming”. Emmanuel means “God with us.” Christmas is a worldwide celebration of Jesus coming to earth as a baby over 2000 years ago. Yes, he has come! What are we still waiting for??

We wait for his Spirit to come in a personal, more intimate way; to transform our hearts, to fill our lives with his love. We want to know Yeshua better as a friend and brother who will forgive every sin and heal our brokenness. Jesus means “he saves”. Could God be patiently waiting for us to come to him in faith?

Creation groans and we groan with it. We were created for paradise; we ache for ourselves and our hurting world to be restored to its original perfection. The King is coming back to make all things new and we anticipate that great (and terrible) future day.

Angels announced his first coming and told each witness, “Fear not”. Though times grow dark, we who believe can fearlessly hold out his light of hope. His kingdom citizens work, watch, and wait for heaven’s final trumpet fanfare when the Lord returns in power and glory!

mid-winter’s flower

thorns pierce blooms like drops of blood

messiah’s coming

dyed in happiness

beauty of iris childhood

mother’s pride and joy

Link to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Perhaps when the dog stops barking

Everyone can finally go back to sleep

And dream of sweet repose in quiet

Communities with no reason what-

Ever for watchdog to howl.  all.  night.

_______

People want peace, of course, but seems

Everyone wants peace on their own terms

And at the expense of others’ peace.  I mean,

Can’t we all just love one another?  No, it’s

Every man/woman for himself/herself…myself

_______

Politics haven’t succeeded in lasting peace

Even psychology disagrees over peace of mind

And most of us want a bigger piece of pie, yet

Christmas child, Prince of Peace, reconciles

Each one who believes, as a child, with God.

day’s soft beginning

sun rises over fresh snow

frosting the spruce pink

i feel winter-green in our grove,

hear flying rabbits skim between

low boughs, and pheasants ring

fowl when  young snowflakes sing

gems to vivacious squirrel whose

audacious red tale awakens oak

leaf from hibernation.  Slow dance

birch bark in silvery-white dress,

smell wisdom of pinecone humming

geometrically-orange rhapsody to

taste clarity of bitterly sweet needles.

Linking to dVerse Poets where Victoria explains “synesthesia”:

There is a neurological condition (called synesthesia) in which the patient confuses sensations. For example, he may taste a fragrance, or hear a flower. Have you ever touched a rainbow or seen a toccata?  The Poetry Foundation defines synesthesia as “a blending or intermingling of different senses in description.” In the world of art, painters make a conscious choice of color to represent feeling or sensation... I invite you to play with mixing up those senses.