Converting to Childhood Jesus: “... unless you are converted and become as little children you will by no means enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” Matthew 18:3 You lose sophistication and veneer and become clear sing, skip and play easily laugh and cry then fall asleep without a care for Daddy is nearby. No longer do… Continue reading Converting to childhood
He is here “He is here, hallelujah, He is here, amen…” This is the melody soundtracks my night and my day repeats and repeats itself over and over again “He is here – Hallelujah. He is here – Amen!” When my heart feels despairing, abandoned, reminding me then He under me, over, surrounding, beside the… Continue reading He is here
March sun, swaddled in a receiving blanket of clouds dreams a newborn promise. It’s already 9:30 but no one has had breakfast except the dog. He lies beside me on the couch his side moving in the rocking rhythm of sleep. Sweet silence is rippled only by padding footsteps the upstairs swish of a flush… Continue reading Baby Morning
wordsmith forge poems from elements of experience experience grown pliable in fire of memory memory of emotion and story gathered in words words heated and handled cautiously with pencil-hammer hammer softened elements into a piece of writing that’s new new use for something on recollection’s shelf shelve it to cool and await its next reincarnation… Continue reading wordsmith
Baby Afghans A baby's on the way and doesn't every baby need an afghan made by Grandma? I always was a knitter but if you drop a stitch knitting is a headache plus it’s hard to talk or listen while tangoing two needles through a cable pattern. So I picked crochet Crosshatch from Ultimate Stitch… Continue reading Baby Afghans
"The Show Must Go On" by Jacob Lucas (© Jacob Lucas - Used with permission) Blessed After the curtain has tattered after the floor is rot after the plaster has blistered and all the windows are shot after the seats are vacant hauled away to the dump after the cabinet's ravished script is a sodden… Continue reading Blessed
Hopeful snowdrifts shrink to puddles frozen ruts become butter under the slant-noon sun meadowlark lilts the returning crows while a backyard robin hip-hops a worm dance pussies fur on willows beside the pond that overflows a chorus of frogs tree clumps blush green while mini-grape lilacs pop fragrance beside beaming yellow roses green-onion spears slit… Continue reading Hopeful
Long catkins dangle Quiver, jiggle, billow, stream Spring flags in March wind ********* Find lots more poetry at One Shot Wednesday.
This red wheelbarrow, seen on a recent trip to Saskatchewan, begged to be photographed. Now I know why. It had this message for me: The Red Wheelbarrow (2) is still dependable though the rain glaze has turned to frosting and the chickens are long in the freezer © 2011 V.Nesdoly (with apologies to William Carlos… Continue reading The Red Wheelbarrow (2)
Sniffing pup explores My camera pulls to things I've never noticed
Violet Nesdoly 