The Final Firefly

quillHere’s a great little poem by author Mitch Teemley.  If you haven’t checked out his site, your missing something good. 

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I saw a lone firefly last night

Dear creature, why didn’t you turn to the right

when you came to August?

You missed your cue for happiness

Now your time to burn has come to an end

Or can it be

there’s something that only you can see

something so sweetly surpassingly bright

that all else fades

in its perfect Light?

Still Water Reflections

quillA great idea (in the form a beautiful poem) from Enthusiastically, Dawn, (yes!  another Dawn to BLESS the blogosphere, just sayin’!!)  If you haven’t seen her site, definitely stroll over (her Instagram is fun also).  Here’s a thinker for us all today:

Still Water Reflections by Dawn Paoletta

I have an idea…

for you

to keep you from judging your peers,

to help you not criticize your neighbor –

the one who brings out your fears…

that person you just don’t get

yet.

Am I judging my peers,  criticizing my neighbor?

Do I? Am I?

I have an idea, for you-

to keep you from logs in your eyes,

to keep you from tripping over them

to guard against compromise,

to help you listen, really listen to another

not just think your thoughts

while they talk

and you supposedly listen,

waiting to interject- and inject your

poison.

Do I listen, really listen?

Does my compassion and empathy rise

or do I just wait to stop pretending

I’m listening?

Do I listen? Do I lie?

I have an idea for you,

to keep you from corrupt

communication

to help you not discuss with others,

what was never meant for discussion.

To keep you from speaking lies, disguised

as truth,  masquerading as prayer

but lacking the one thing that matters

before words are ever spoken about another :

love.

Is grace my motive to speak?

Do I love that which I speak of?

Am I guilty of slander or gossip?

Do I hate?

Do I? Am I?

I have an idea, for you-

one to keep you shining like gold,

one to help you reign in your tongue

whether you’re young or old:

Do you grumble under your breath,

murder others with your speech,

excusing your comments and conversation

before you begin to preach?

The words that flow from your mouth,

may seem wise in light of today,

but if you don’t stop the flow,

how can you ever pray?

Unconditional

quill

Not enough can be said about the the amazing things God accomplishes through our pain.  (Anyone not yet seen Pixar’s Inside Out??)  In light of that, here’s another beautiful offering of grace from Nico at Ancient Skies.  

UNCONDITIONAL

When our trauma has been washed, and we are in one piece again,

our blood shot eyes will begin to see the good

in each of us, and our shattering

will teach us the courage

to love

unconditionally.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Frail, but Strong

quill

For this week’s installment of Not My Poetry, here’s a beautiful one from Peaceful Journey, a thought well worth contemplating at this time in our history.  Thank you, Yvonne, for the encouragement!

Frail, but Strong

Frailmother

She stood frail while others listened attentively.

Her wisdom was beyond her physical weakness.

Many sought her to understand the world’s mysteries.

Many sought her to tap into the cistern of her spirituality.

Her frailty was only a noticeably weakness to herself.

It was certainly not an outward sign of weakness in her moral character.

She lived a life dedicated to those impoverished.

She knew the secret,

love for all mankind make you rich.

Yes, she was frail, but strong

mother-teresa-quotes-111

alove1`Yvonne L

Consecrated Time

quill

This poem by Cindy Powell really resonated with me.  One thing I’m looking to in Heaven is “no time”, i.e., no clocks or watches because “who cares?”  But for now, I have to care, and sometimes that caring lapses over into, well…we all know.  Thanks, Cindy, for such a great thought here!

Consecrated Time

Time
What an extravagant and lavish gift
Time to simply be
Without an agenda
Without any obligation to make “good” use
of the time and space I find myself in
Without anything to prove
Without a need to accomplish anything
Or discover anything –
Other than what always is
And that is simply You –
You here with me
In time

I don’t have to get it                                                                                                                                   I don’t have to steward it particularly well
I don’t even have to respond in a particular way
I just need to be
I just need to be me –
Here with You
Whatever that looks like
Whatever it feels like
Whatever does or does not happen
There are no necessary results
There is no grand master scheme to consider
There is only now
And this gift of time
This gift of a moment in time

But, really –
Is it a moment in time
or a moment outside of time?
Could it be a moment of eternal purity and truth
breaking through the illusion of time?
In all the busyness of this chaotic planet
Perhaps the most extreme and extravagant thing to do
Is to be
In utter simplicity
In complete freedom
Freedom from striving
Freedom from obligation
To anyone or anything

It’s almost too absurd to comprehend
But maybe “being” is the ultimate act of consecration
Maybe it is the ultimate act of letting go
Maybe it is a complete stripping away
Of all that binds
And blinds
And of all that distracts
With delusions of our own self-importance
Maybe it is knowing
Absolutely knowing
That even in the absolute absence of my good works
And best efforts
He is still pleased
He is still present
He is still who He says He is
He will still do what He says He will do
And He is still here
With me
In time.

The Kraken (#15)

(Pssst…In case you missed any, you can start from the beginning at THIS LINK.)

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From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

XV. The Restoration of All Things

A transformation soon ensued from Lordly Griffin wild

To lion then to bleeding lamb, both terrible and mild,

Who laid his wounded head upon the morbid maiden’s breast.

The color came into her cheeks. She breathed as if at rest

 

And then exhaled with softened moan to Galen’s glad surprise

As, with a start, she sat upright and opened long-shut eyes.

The former mist from when she first walked plainly in his sight

Was missing now, and in its place there shined a brighter light.

 

A bleat turned to a lion’s roar and then an eagle’s screech,

Then, suddenly, the Griffin King flew upward out of reach.

As Galen gazed upon the lass, revived in time of need,

From north and west the prophet flew, approaching on his steed.

 

Alighting next, he looked around, excitement on his face,

And smiled at Galen as he said, “Recipient of grace,

Believe your eyes. Be not surprised. It is the right of kings

To fashion something beautiful from dead and broken things.

 

“Now would it be too much to ask, what is this maiden’s name?”

She rose and spoke in wondrous tones, “Through trial I became

More of myself for this good man who sought to know me best.

My parents named me for the stars. Dear sir, I am Celeste.”

 

He joined the couple hand in hand, then to the griffins led.

A far off look was in his eyes as joyfully he said,

“Celeste and Galen, rise and fly. There are but saddles two.

Consent to take one final gift I have to offer you,

 

“In wedded bliss to live within my cottage by the sea,

But here I’ll die. Then this good host will take what’s left of me

To safer shores beyond the veil of this world’s atmosphere

To bow before the Griffin King in reverential fear.

 

“Life’s vivid moments rise and fall like waves upon the shore.

Each breaker passes over me. I want for nothing more.

My sojourn by the ocean past, and, now, my waiting through,

My course is flown. I am fulfilled in what I’ve done for you.”

 

So, tearfully, with warm embrace, they bade their friend goodbye

And, later, perched on griffin backs, conversed within the sky.

They shouted high upon the wind and spoke of many things

Until they reached that happy shore on which the ocean sings.

 

Then, earnestly, they made their vows among the griffin host

And went inside to contemplate what they both treasured most.

They hung their saddles on the wall, forever, some would say.

For after that enchanted ride, the griffins flew away.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY…dot…dot…dot!!

The old-fashioned, hand-held, page-turning and fully illustrated version can be ordered at Amazon.com, by Robert L Jones, III and illustrated by James P. Wood.

Live God’s Plan

quillThe following is shared with the family’s permission.  Who among us has not been somehow touched by chronic or terminal illness?  This poem by Brad Vermass was found on the his laptop by his family. Be blessed, be inspired, and be encouraged.  

Live God’s Plan 

Every morning I awoke with more stiffness and headaches.
I asked God to take away my pain.
God said no.
It is not for me to take away,
But for you to give up.
January 2004 I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.
I asked God to remove my disease and make me whole.
God said no.
Your spirit IS whole,
Your body is only temporary.
Life was so short now. Days passed so quickly and I become angry at little things.
I asked God to grant me patience.
God said no.
Patience is a byproduct of tribulations,
It isn’t granted, it is earned.
All I wanted was a nice home for retirement and to provide for my family so their lives are less troubled.
I asked God to give me happiness.
God said no.
I give you blessings,
Happiness is up to you.
March 2014 I was diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer. I hurt physically and emotionally.
I asked God to spare me suffering.
God said no.
Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares,
And brings you closer to me.
I stared at the cross and wondered why you would die for me? I am nothing.
I asked God to make my spirit grow.
God said no.
You must grow on your own,
But I will prune you to make you fruitful.
How nice it would have been to make a 7 figure salary every year. No worries about bills or providing for my family.
I asked God for all things, that I might enjoy life.
God said no.
I give you life,
So that you may enjoy all things.
I reached out to surround myself with people who have learned to live life standing strong and happy no matter what came.
I asked God to help me LOVE others,
As much as he loves me.
God said, “FINALLY! you have the idea.”
And I learned: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

At last, I asked God to take me home…. and God said “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ all shall be made alive”To all my family and friends: I wait at heaven’s gate for you, but do not rush your time on earth.

Live God’s plan for you.

Never take a step alone, ask Him to walk with you always.-

I may be gone for now, but we will meet again one day…..

I love you all.

The Sanctuary

quillIt amazes me, awes me beyond my ability to appreciate, the fact that as beautiful as the sanctuary of God’s created universe is, we are now His sanctuary, His tabernacle, each of His disciples individually and collectively as his Church. How can that be?? And yet, He declares it to be so! (1 Corinthians 6:19,20) I don’t understand it, but who am I to argue?  Here is another beautiful Continue reading “The Sanctuary”

The Kraken (#4)

(Pssst…In case you missed the first part, you can start from HERE.)

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From: gizemlervebilinmeyenler.blogspot.com and copied from Alejandro Quijano pintrest (Kinda scary, right?)

The Kraken

By Robert L. Jones III (check it out at Pneumythology)

IV. The Grip Of Grief

Behold, the human spirit rises up from unseen wells.

The ghost inhabits its machine in ways that no one tells.

Considering such questions as philosophy might ask,

Let readers weigh priorities and take themselves to task.

 

Does grief arise from selfishness or sympathetic care,

Or could it be a bit of both for those of us who dare

To suffer disappointments in the light of higher ways

And hold to hidden principles that common life betrays?

 

The insincere may speculate, but wiser men have known

By heating in the crucible are human values shown.

Do any know how they would act or speak when put to test?

Upon what final consequence will actions come to rest?

 

As into deep obscurity the Kraken left its wake,

The boy upon the cliff still watched. His knees began to shake.

His face was pale. His trembling hands clenched tightly into fists,

Responding to the rage and pain that suffering enlists.

 

He cried out incoherently, and many tears were shed.

He fell to earth and beat the rocks until his knuckles bled.

Though scarcely would he recollect just how his flight began,

It seems he did what he could do. Directionless, he ran

 

Along the coast and shouted curses muffled by the wind

From time to time, he looked about in hopes the sea might send

Her back to him, that woman whom his heart was set upon,

But sunset came with no relief. Then likewise came the dawn.

 

Upon awaking stiffly from that long and fitful night,

He raised his eyes to heaven, and he vowed to put things right.

With conscience and with memory the maiden’s cry had play.

In heart this stricken lad became a man at sea that day.

 

He charged among the breakers then, undisciplined and rash,

And, seized by pangs of hunger, looked for shellfish he could smash.

In vain he begged the ocean to make right what had been wronged.

By stubborn pride and strength of will, his journey was prolonged.

 

He slept above the rising tides and fed on what he could,

Then, through the nights, to warm himself, made fires from drifted wood.

He roamed one day, suspecting not that well beyond a bend

Stood something that would bring his lonely vigil to an end.

 

Beyond this promontory, he, by fate or providence

(No honest man could then have said for want of evidence),

Would cease his restless wanderings and stop to stare instead,

His scattered thoughts arrested by the sight he saw ahead.

  TO BE CONTINUED NEXT THURSDAY (dot, dot, dot!!)