#Marvelous

wpid-img_20150801_114350.jpg

Dear Marvelous:

You found me. Perhaps I found you. We found each other. We are now sojourners for a journey of days and weeks and seasons, through the calendar of 2016. While the earth spins and turns, we will look for the poetry. Together.

We missed the early days. We had not found each other yet when January began her spartan dance, slow and waltzing. Fresh with hope. So we are shy a full deck of 365. But we press on in the remaining. Linked. Arms hooked. You are an encourager of delight, a finder of the extraordinary and a lover of whimsy.

You are not the Pollyanna that some may think. You are not the eternal optimist. The wearer of rose-colored glasses. You are green with new birth. Effervescent with joy in the face of discovery. Yes, you are life-giving and eager to delight in the best. Often the simple.

The “m” sits on the edge of pursed lips, determined and brave and pushes off like a swimmer doing the butterfly. A graceful lunge. Into the realm of wonder and possibility. A sea of mystery and marvel. High tides, low tides. Ebbing and flowing. Always tossing up the treasures to be collected on the edges of our walk.

So there you are. Light in the dark. Warmth in the cold. You shade and color the nuances of life with glorious richness. With exquisite simplicity. Elegance in the simple. You are regal as a peasant in her everyday-ness. You are riches in the rags. Hope in despair. Light in the shadows.

Marvelous, you are a mindset. A lens. A capturer of life’s best and rarest. A treasure seeker. A seeker of intrigue.

Thank you for choosing me. Here’s to a year of marveling together. At all the mystery. Through the pain. Into the dark days. Around the deep ditches and past the hurdles of sorrow. Over, under, around.

Here’s to uncovering the marvelous. For you and for me. In the everyday. In every day. In Him and by Him. Glory be to the Creator of the marvelous.

amen,

e

wp-1452525058250.png

 

 

 

Advertisements

Get Up And Go

wpid-20140209_115041.jpg

Get Up And Go

The idea of an approaching speed limit sign
For an age
Comes racing at me
In warped speed
I am on the Autobaun
Okay with a few passing me
But not okay with everyone leaving me
A sad sack in the rearview mirror of their
Adrenalin fueled lives
I want to join the human
Race
Bowed before the throne of God
WIth my gifts in tact
As I approach the finish line
Shoot the wad, spend it all

The word latched on to me like a barnacle

I carry it more as a compass than a parasite
This “Go”

Mercy attended my soul
In the pages of Acts where poet
Appears
And I was drenched in  grace
Like an oil change or a tire change
Tune up for the soul
For a road weary poet warrior
The day it leapt off the page at me
Was the day I was bone tired with the heart cry
Brittle and parched
This heart of mine
Restless for poetry
For you it may be serving soup at the soup kitchen
It was the day I wanted to trade with
Anyone
For nobler, grander, meeker, more sacred
Hand me the ladle
Bless my heart I am ready to serve

Gifts are sweeter when they come wrapped
In tissue thin paper
My old blue leather Bible hid it until
The time was right
And I was pathetically
Dazed and confused

So I am back on the poetic highway
No yellow line down the middle
Demarcation of prose from poetry
Tuned up by Holy “what?”
Just for me
Laid the questions to rest
No longer scratching my head
Like a dog his fleas
I hear the poetry in the Psalms
And see it in every hive of bee
And crest of wave
Cracked egg and broken shell
Fog and rain, whoop of crane

These things He designed
Pure poetry

I asked her “why”
And she said “why not”
Why didn’t I think of the better
Surer way to skin that cat
Rip open the package
Tear off the bow

Appears I forgot to say thank you

Don’t march this to the jury box
And make it state it’s case
It is a poem
Not theology
Nor doctrine
It is servant’s cry
And Artist God
Relating
Relationshipping
And lingering in holy love there
Mano-a-mano
Though He made me
Poetess

Lover Of My Soul
And creator of the longing
That goes to the back lit
Mac with the apple carved there
It is the one bite out
That reminds me of sin

And poetess prays
Lead me to the raging waters
That are calmed by the
Words on a page

Or lead me to the quiet streams of words
For Yours
And a heart for you

Go with me in to the wordy wilderness
And grant me Your Peace
And now I am not compelled to word search
Poet
For a number to proclaim
But You know me well and I won’t promise
I won’t

Seek and find every bit of poetry
Laying in the lines
Somewhere between Genesis and Revolution

Ladle in one hand
Pen in the other
If you seek you will find
Me, with poetry

I got up and went
Until I break down again
Ever in need of a Holy Hand
up.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

one word 350

logo-writer

Noticing Through The Eyes of A Poet

Today is Day 15.

And today my words are taking a mini Sabbath rest here, mid-way through the series. (Yes, I know, it is  a Wednesday). But you are in for a treat. Listen to the words of one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver.  Mary amazes me and inspires me. She feeds my poetic longings with her gentle lines of noticing. And  she sees God’s world, His hand, His creation through a wonderfully unique poetic lens.

31 days button 500x500

Day 15

Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.

To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.

When it’s over, I want to say:  All my life I was a bride married to amazement.

—Mary Oliver

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

To read the previous posts in this series, click here for a complete list of all days in “The Art Of Noticing – A 31 Day Series” . I am joining the Nester at her place where she is hosting over 1,000 writers/bloggers.

If you would like to follow along daily, subscribe at the top or the bottom of this home page.  I am on twitter and facebook if you’d like to follow along there. The journey is more fun with other noticers.

Now, ready, set, go notice. ( And I will be back tomorrow, rested and ready, with more poetry)

Into The Beautiful

The broken shards, the razor sharp edges , cut like jagged glass. And we bleed. We bleed red, we bleed tears, we bleed fear and trembling.

The spinning earth throws us into a tailspin, head long into her tail winds. Upright vertical, we  now are nearly horizontal. Stretched by the force of  gale force winds of living.

We walk limp and slant. We walk bent and drag our weary cane, invalids on the life march.

Without Your beauty. Rust and all.

provider-mcclellanville

Frame for me the beautiful every time and everywhere. Share your canvas, ripe and waiting.
And let me paint with You.

Lend  your kaleidoscope eyes to me. To see a sky while still barely breathing. Battered from the power of beautiful. Shaken by creation’s power. Every single time. You repeat and re-repeat your holy masterpieces. And form them into new again.

Point me toward the beautiful so I can see as you.

mcclellanville sunset jeremy

Hold me in the beautiful, while frayed edges of my soul seem faint and frail and close to death. Mark the God art everywhere and peel the scales from my blind eyes. Take the old and make it new, once again.  you create and re-create at speeds  which dizzy human flesh,  spinning life  in your  formed beautiful.

I lay awestruck in the path of creation’s beautiful. Its blazing trail of color, texture, shape and form.

IMAG0987

Heal me with Your beautiful. Cradle me in the woven glory of your hands. Shelter me in storms of lovely where brilliant moons and radiant light drip down on life lived here. Walk me toward the beautiful. And lay me down in sheets of white linen crisp and cool. Where I  can slumber in the beautiful with knowing of your holy steady hand.

Rock me roll me into a holy beautiful, where I can dance with You. And wake to waltz in fields of beautiful, growing outside the portal of my world.

Teach me, show me beautiful, when broken cries come look at me. And help me see Your beautiful in the midst of raging deadly seas.

Just wrap me up in rags of sacred lovely. That bind my bleeding wounds. And let me feel your healing hands surround me as I lay there soaking in the salty waters, beautiful on sandy shores of grace.

Wash me in the white hot beautiful, clean, awake and ready to receive all beauty made by you. Remove the blinders on my eyes which block the morning dew and green spring new. That shadow, hide the up and coming shoots of Earth’s new offerings.

Blue Moon HMM

And point me toward your beautiful, in broken, shattered, hurting places.

Teach me how to  find the beautiful. Paint it, write it, sing it out. Loud enough to echo toward the deaf ,yet soft enough to whisper with a sweet I love you.

Just spin me, twirl me, brace me in the broken beautiful so I can weave a masterpiece of beauty. And point always back to you.

With your gentle hands of grace.

Lead me steady straight

And cross me over mercifully,

Into beautiful.

wpid-2013-03-11-10.13.23.jpg

I’m asking God for one thing, only one thing: To live with him in his house my whole life long. I’ll contemplate his beauty; I’ll study at his feet. – The Message, Psalm 27

 

Joining Emily and the group of writers there that have become friends at Imperfect Prose on Thursdays. Come by and read, visit, quietly or drop your own words into the link up there.  Emily’s is the place for grace.

imperfectprose

log over creek w moss