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

Advertisements

When The Oh So Ordinary Looks Extraordinary- Day 1

Joining The Nester and hundreds of others for a 31 Days of… series. Joyfully reading there and writing here for 31 Days. Would you join me? It would be a gift.

Yesterday I wrote an introduction of sorts for this series. You can read about it here.

Ordinary. Ooh la la ordinary. A new ordinary. Different but same, changed in the blink, because of the eyes.

The eyes of the heart.

In the monday, small case, days and the plain and mundane. There is no such thing.

You turn a monday, small case day on its head and shake it gently until the coins fall from the pockets. And the sparkle is revealed. The something of value is discovered.

Discovered because it sat there all along. Stumbled upon, tripping you up in the wonder of it all. The plain turns to fancy and the ordinary becomes extra so extra-ordinary.

Small is grand and simple is elegant, and the lense turns the world upside down. Its wild and wonderful.

Its an ordinary day in an ordinary life.

The dull becomes bright. The eyes frame the mundane with the frame of wonder and discovery.

And there in the middle of the mundane small case monday, is the height of the unspeakable beautiful.

She walks her monday walk and she breathes her monday air and she turns her monday corner.

And with nothing more than a change in perspective, of measuring the abundant and marking the glass to the line of the full, not half, not whole, but spilling over, she sees her black and white before oz world turned upside down as the colors are thrown on the life canvas.

With reckless abandon.

She sees the ordinary, beautiful.

She hears the ordinary, beautiful.

She comes to see all in the ordinary. Seeing as Alice saw. Wonderful whimsy in the cat and the child and the tea-cup.

A laugh is eeked out. The imagination is sparked.

But it was really there, all along. No imagination is needed. Not really.

The life-art pops and Wonder and Glory are revealed. Just everywhere.

If you look close.

When a dandelion is as a peony or a rose. Beautiful is in the plain.

Simple looks exquisite and marvelously faceted because her lense of love and thanks compounds the what just simply is.

Brown is sepia, dinner is fellowship, a friend, a life-giver in a conversation dipped in grace.

A spider-web is art, a pile of mess is the heart beat of the home.

The weary spirit is we lived with zest in celebration of a marriage.

And the owl and the pussycat take a ring from the nose of a pig. Its grace. It’s all they need.

Well that and honey. And Christopher Robin has bear. And the woods. A friend and a forest seem simply enough.

While a note, a call, a word, a smile carry extravagant small case monday love. Notes of grace, sing a song to the aching broken.

Shine light in the dark shadowy.

Steady a shakey gaping wound. With a word, a whisper.

For you and her and they and we and the ones who walk down-trodden and dejected.

In the black and white, seemingly graceless places of pain. Where you can color it Hope and color it Healed when you speak the words He gave.

She wipes the tear that cleared the way. After the poured out sorrow. And sees the river of joy, wet streams of Living Joy, running rapidly right behind.

And all the burlap, rough brown ragged wrapping of the moments right there,

They shine like silk, soft and beautiful, wrapped around the small case monday,

Through the lense of the not so ordinary after all.

And she continues counting, quietly today, but counting…. the gifts in the ordinary that really are extraordinary.

After all. If you count it all Joy.

linking with Ann and Laura.

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

Write It All Down

“God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They’re his people he’s their God. Look! I’m making everything new. Write it all down-each word dependable and accurate.” Revelation 21:3-5

Friends, may you celebrate all the new, all the wonder, all the beautiful, all the God Art. The Beautiful in the broken, the beautiful in the busted. The perfection of the imperfect. The Hope in things to come. And the Promises of His tomorrows, created in Love, created in Mercy, by His hands, the ones that unfurl all that Amazing Grace. And when you see the black the white and the mundane may you look at life through a lense of Hope to see the colors of hopeful beauty washed, splashed, drizzled, splattered and stroked over all that is the right before you. The all that is your world. The all that is your living story.

{Photography courtesy of the lovely and talented H.M.Miller who blesses me with her eye and her heart}


Linking with the Sunday Community, Still Saturdays, and Scripture & a Snapshot.