Wheelbarrow Of Words

orchid and sun through door slats

You single wheeled cart
She places her art inside of you
A through Z tumble out hard
Carrying all that wells up inside of her

You handle with care the words
She places there, for now
Sacred container of
Words, filled to the brim, spilling over the rim

Z through A jumbled pieces, imperfect
No home in  prose
You hold
Everything that needs a holy  home

You carry pieces of a soul
Spun with tenderness with fragile yarn
Depositing gentle at the feet

Of those
Meant to receive a gift of poetry
Not prose

Line by line the art pulls the thread
Which started in the left ventricle of her heart
Held now frozen on a page
WIthin the walls
Of this word  sanctuary called


Penned imperfection, carried with care within a
Wheelbarrow of words
As with all that ‘s meant to fly away
She’ll  pin the Monarch wings and set them free

You may now
Dump out all her poetry
Metaphor  which carries dirt
Your services  no longer needed here

For if she is created in His image
As it says
Co-creator with her God on High
She’ll park the wheelbarrow in the shed
For now

And humbly place the winged words
On the currents of the wind
And wave goodbye to what
Was born inside of her

Grace and peace to you as you travel far or near
My heart, my art, my  poetry

Joining Laura at Playdates At The Wellspring

Below The Surface

dolphin duo show offsHalf hidden
Half seen



Tombstone gray, wet at play
Or is it work

And  I  believe I now know why

We launch our boat

Set out to see
The sleek and slippery
mammals  born
unto the sea

At edge of night
return home and anchor

Now knowing more of you
And more of me

The need to dive
And hide
below what’s seen
Exploring hidden
Memory buried things
Of life and passion
Stored  in stories
floating under foamy white crest waves
Of past and present
Needing to resurface
In desperate need of light and air

before we go back down again.

And why their dance below
And then above
the rocking waves
Is more than child’s play
Mirroring  our human ways

Of dodging, hiding, running scared
Then diving deep into the depths
Before returning
To the surface
Desperately in need of  light and air

And connection with another
Where we should be living
Freed and
Free from

Shame set free
We are  featherless and floating
on the
Water once the

Hiding ends
And we all dance and dip and dive above the black blue horizontal line
Sleek and slippery
More like they
You  and I
Break through the surface, free to play
Where there is light
Where there is air.

I know now
Why we launch our boat
And float out on the sea
To find ourselves

Below the surface.


Joining Jennifer and Emily

Chains – Shake, Rattle and Roll

Today I am joining Amber and a few others for a series on an abstraction on concrete words. Today is Day 23 in the Series. Cut yourself loose and go here to read the collective.. Today’s word is Chains.

The words line up like hungry children at Baskin Robbins taking a number and waiting their turn to indulge themselves. They hear there is a series here on words and they are ravenous mongrels eager to have their day.

They cry out in the night and creep in the dreams and state their case of why they are worthy for the time to shine, their day in the sun, their fifteen minutes.

I tell them there is no glory that’s not His and there is no fifteen minutes of fame and if anything its fifteen seconds.

But they shake rattle and roll around in my head and bring their resumes, these words all seem worthy. How do you pick. What’s a mother to do. We don’t play favorites or at least we always try to be even-steven around here.

But I am drawn like a bee on honey over here to this abstraction on chains and I drag my words with me. They aren’t heavy they are just full. They are ripe and ready to burst with their telling.

So I link them up like construction cut-outs glued with Elmer’s on the Christmas Tree in 1969. They are a chain but fragile. Made to lay on the branch, this tree, of life. And not weigh down.

There was a mighty trifecta brewing around like a meteorological nightmare on a Southern summer, hot, humid, and muggy. So they link-up, make a chain. Mercy, Forbearance and Long-suffering, with an extra link of patience.

They rumble around in the brain for days beating to get out and speak their mind. So I release them and let them breathe a bit on the white pages, release them out to have their day in court.

They are game-changers and mood-changers and life-changers. And they are worthy of being lifted up and they need more than a day they need a life-time.

The chains of picking up every single solitary offense is enough to wear a girl down. Learning to let them lie is freedom. The kind that you set off fire-works over. The kind that you stand outside the prison door and greet the captive set free from all those years in a dark cell. In when she could have been free. Languishing in the dark, when she could have been living in the light.

Mercifully released, finally, things are set right. The sunlight is bright, blindingly so.

She breathes deep the fresh air of freedom.

Mercifully mercy finds a place to settle in and settle down, patience works hard at being herself and brings peace and calm with her. And letting things roll off the back when things rolls off a tongue is delightfully different from picking up the offense and picking a fight.

Choosing to release the offense, not taking it up, letting it die on the vine. Letting it go.

Looking the other way, turning the other cheek, breaks chains that bind. And cuts the heavy metal links with the soft shears of His ways.

Chains get rusty when they get old, and clanking sounds grate on a life. Sometimes it doesn’t take a metal cutter to break them, but the soft and gentle trio of Trinity to bust it open and break it loose.

And isn’t it the truth that the more links you add to the chain, the stronger it becomes. You add Mercy linked with Forbearance and Long-suffering and your spirit and your soul gain strength in the beautiful chain of Patience.

Grace is the grease that oils the links and keeps them nimbly ebbing and flowing, bobbing and weaving. You can make a chain of the Good and the Gracious. And the chains keep the wheels rolling on the bike as you peddle down the Grace trail.

Dropping your chains of clover rather than wobbly chains of wrongs done, offenses picked up, hurts accumulated, accumulating dust and rust.

We’re just too busy being bound up in the chains that bind and bruise, hold us back and wrap us up in self and selfish.

They were right, this trio, to demand their day, to link hands and come play on the pages of this series. To bring their light and cheerful spirit with them.

Too long their counterparts have tried to rule greedy, hold emotions and circumstances up, hold us hostage, rule with the iron hand and lay claim to each transgression, offense, small and large. To feel the wound of every word and deed that delt the blow, broke the heart, intentional or not.

Pride and self-righteous indignation, the rule of the day. Elbowing their way into their place of power and authority. Staking a claim while staking the chain to the ground. Burying the life on a short chain of void and empty.

I click the leash and walk the dog, tethered briefly for a moment outside in the air. I can breathe. Ocean rumbles mighty in the dark morning air. I can breathe. I hear the roar and know the power of salt, the strength of water. It reminds me the soul can be refreshed, the chains can be broken, and the life does feel less heavy when we breathe deep the freedom.

I can pick up the promises of His, a chain of linked words and chapters, verses, the beautiful bound Book. Chain it to my heart. Chain it to my soul.

And I hear Aretha singing to my spirit, Chain of Fools, a tribute, an anthem to the old way of living.

And Amazing Grace drops down in the jukebox of my heart and I sing along to a new anthem of my life, a song of Unchained Melody. The sound of freedom.

The words do a victory march across the page, linking hands, making a chain of friendship.

Mercy, Forbearance and Patience.

A new chain, tying  me soft and loose to Freedom.

And angels of Mercy and her friends guard my heart, stand at the door to my soul, keeping watch, breaking the chains before they bind again.

Amens and amens and amens.

Grateful to be joining these wonderful writers today too at their place: Jen, Heather,and Eileen. And to Jennifer,Joy,  Ann and Emily