The Poetic, Day 4 (Part 1)

Its a challenge,

issued from me to me

let’s not see what Webster says,

we dare not look to a boxed, canned definition of this of all things, though many do and that’s fine too,

it is the first cousin of freedom,

that’s enough for now,

no,

we’ll open the window to the soul and listen for how the heart defines it, what it says

 how it shapes,

with blood, and those pulsing veins, with bone and marrow tacked on too

and flesh, the skin, the cover

the words, they walk out like happy preschool

little ones at recess filled with  pregnant wonder of  running free

oh how they will run when the heavy school door opens and out they go.

the words, they wait on you,

come play, and bring your finest whimsy with you,

come dance, bring your dancing shoes,

we will breathe and I will wait

I will wait  and we will  pause

period

And understanding, heart and mind

and art , they will collide

down the playground slide

one atop another

into a heap of joy- squeeling, happy, word joy

they land, so soft.

And at the bottom

they are there

the words.

pick them up, dust them off,

and glean the poetic from the pile,

of words.

And if you find the thrill too short, that slide it always is

then get in line,

and down you go,

flailing, joy-filled down you go,

its at that bottom that you breathe,

and take a lingering look back up

at how you held your breath, and fully llived

whizzed right down

the short,

exhilaration

that was

the poem.

A Book of Hope- Day 3

Oh you are here. That’s so lovely. Shoulder to shoulder on this 31 Day mini jaunt through some of my favorite words. If you missed day 1 on ordinary and day 2 on savor you can skip over here and here and do a catch up of sorts.

She wants to fill a word container, like she’d fill a vase with fresh cut garden beauties, a loose arrangement.

She wants to fill a word container up with words stuck in the inner places waiting at the end of the que, patient as the English. Not their time, not their turn. The waiting sweetens, the waiting improves with age, like cheese and wine and marriage. A trio of age improved elements. Add her word container to the mix and make it a foursome.

They can play tennis, golf, cards these four.

Her container is named small h hope, her book. The one on Hope is written and is bound in the Holy, with words, sacred, words God-breathed. Red letters and words from the Trinity.

But her book of hope will spill words on the page. They will run like rabbits, down  trails of hold on, cease worry, end despair,  look for tomorrow, see through the wormholes in today.

She will release them on the white crisp paper and let them flow like riverlets. Jumping the beaver dams of apathy and malcontent and run unobstructed to deliver buckets of hope. Wet the pages with words kicking and screaming there is always hope.

She will draw from His book of hope and lean into Him.  Ask for words, humbly and meekly. Give me words to scatter that tell of hope. Its linked by hyphens to trust and to knowing and faith.

She knows He knows of all her days, her hours.Where she and Hope have been together. When she loosed her hands and held less firm. When her threadbare rope looked like a string to her and him and they.

She can only tell her story, shaky, story, brave, story. Stammering, stuttering, hers.

But better bound in leather in its imperfect state than bound in her. He, the editor knows when to publish and release. She has lips and a mouth and a tongue to tell. The paper is just one place the words can buckle up and ride off. Buckle up and face forward. Wheels on the ground. They roll.

When loosed and left to flap unfettered, like drying sheets drape over backyard cord, breathing, flailing, singing sweet in green grass breeze. They point to new.

And new looks mercifully on the past and says stay, sit, heel. I will toss you a biscuit stay right there. Hope is on the way. Hope infuses her brilliant radiant joyous spirit in the from here forward.

But bound in leather, not by chains of pain, or links of past.

The book of little h hope, waiting in the que.

Until her day comes.

Writing in community with these fine folks, Jennifer, Ann, Duane, Amber and Emily

.

Savoring – Day 2

We are walking through words, with words, and around words for 31 Days, over at The Nester. You will find a wonderful community there and I will be right here with you for my first 31 Days Series entitled Wonderful Words. Did you miss the introduction, it’s here. Or Day 1, it’s here. Yesterday was  ordinary.

Today is Day 2 and we are Savoring.  Will you come savor with me? It would be grand.

Savoring.

Lingering, the senses, suspending them in air.

Stretching moments like silly putty out and up and past what was possible.

Staying long in a moment, capturing it holding it, like mason jar lightening bug mini prisoners. The beauty is winged and apt to fly, unless the glass walls hold it captive, a lid on life, a lid on lovely. Or memory grabs hold.

Savoring.

Swaying hammock style back and forth in a place, shifting gears  into slow a Southern one. Defined by a pace that slows for breathing in  memory. Restoring a soul by
resting long in laughter, resting long in love, resting long in now.

Savoring.

Sucking hard candy slow and gentle, sun setting slow in a tease of the theatrical, suspending as if it will never go down. Slapping orange and pink sloppy exquisite on blue sky canvas. Sky poetry. Seeing  every detail. Marking  micro-moments in memory. Mind’s camera shutter clicks and stores, clicks and files, clicks and captures. Clicks and saves, savors.

Savoring.

Walking the fingers up and down in a brush of tender on child’s back. Whispering prayers over life. Breathing in Jesus, breathing out worry, doubt, fear. Lingering in love.
Wrapping a heart in words of encouragement, lingering in momma love where the heart beats slow. Resting in childhood memories, freezing in bags zipped tight, locking the pieces of childhood in love sacks. Locking it up, seal tight with hope, seal tight with joy.

Savoring.

Keys on the ivories, boy fingers play notes of sweet music in a blink, in a wink, in a nod they’re off. Bend in and listen. Bend in and hear. Really, the music fades. The fingers stop playing and the aisle of love is in sight,  a life of new  love is near. Still the heart and savor all the favorites,

Roof rain on tin, cut green blades, love notes on white napkins, boy wide toothy smiles, glasses on eyes on a  books in the late night, dog’s tail wag, stargazer scents and star-gazzing skies and the multitudes of sweet and bitter sweet taste, see that He is good. Place a comma, place a pause, freeze the frame and take your time,

Take small steps, take long breathes, take it slow. The every drop, the every crumb, down to the last words of the last page of the last page turned.

Smack.

Taste.

Relish.

And savor.

Joing my words with theirs: Eileen, Heather, and Jen

Thirty One Days – A Series of Words

For the next 31 days I will be joining a group of others in a series of thirty one days…..

After pondering about where that would take us and considering how that would shape my writing and this blog, after wrestling gently with ideas, I landed. I landed which means we landed on 31 Days of Wonderful Words.

My heart is beating a little faster and my mind is racing a little quicker and I am churning up on a sleepy Sunday night all of the words we will wrestle to the mat, all the poetry we will read, all the scripture we will soak in, and the art of words we will delight in together.

Here are some thoughts, though there will lots of surprises and spontaneous combustion. And the words will spill out here for 31 days.

Words of encouragement, praise, hope, discovery, faith, love, challenge, redemption, forgiveness, creativity, and the words will swirl and the words will spin and we’ll wrap words around words.

Will you leave a comment if you have a word to add to the mix?

Will you join me on facebook where there will be more words on words.

There will be words of Oswald Chambers, and C.S. Lewis and Mary Oliver and The Word but mostly there will be frail and meager and shakey words. There will be odd poetry and there will be prose with odd punctuation and sentence fragments. Because it will be afterall, mostly my words.

But there will be honest, real, transparent and unmasked words from the inside place, where God speaks and where creativity and art are birthed from His inspired whispers.

Thank you for joining me. I am filled with excitement and ideas, but yours are important….very important so leave me a word about your favorites. Poetry? Prosety? Words of others? A mix and a mingle of lots and lots of words.

You all here… well I am without the words to express what you mean….but I will work on that too.

God Bless,

Elizabeth-Writer
wynnegraceappears