27/100 Writing to God: Images of God

Lord, You are…

A whisper among shouting

A mother’s loving hush

Vital breath

Quiet assurance

A gentle presence

A thrilling secret

Calm midst uncertainty

An intimate friend

A soothing hand

A quilted comforter

You are my peace.

26/100 What is Love?

Love 

What is it to be loved?

Accepted

Forgiven

Valued

Appreciated

Liked

Treasured

Fought for

Defended

Protected

Provided for

Blessed

Embraced

Hugged

Kissed

Listened to

Loved

God is love

He who comes to the Son

comes to the Father
and comes to all of the above.

25/200 Poetic Bloomings Prompt

Who Do You Think You Are, Connie Lee Peters?

C reative? Ah, yes, thanks mostly to my husband.

O pen-minded? Does having a hole in your head count?

N ervous? When I speak in public or when my kids are in a foreign country.

N arcissistic? A tad. Don’t writers have to be?

I ntelligent? Yes, except STM’s about shot.

E motional? Yes. Makes for a good poet. 

L oving? Yes, just don’t bore me.

E ncouraging? Yes, most of the time.

E nthusiastic? Depends. Writing, family and traveling? Yes Housework? No

P atient? As a caregiver I have to be, but I’m not always.

E nergetic? I’m working on it.

T alented? In some ways. Writing? Yes Technology? No

E mphatic? About God’s goodness.

R ealistic? Not always.

S imple? Definitely.

24/100 Lazy Morning

Slow Start

Pulsing hum of airplane overhead

He, knees to nose, sleeps in a chair

She calls lazily from bed

Hubby rustles in back

Burnt toast smell in air

Sweet tea with cream

Saturday

Morning

Off

23/100

Summer of ‘77 

Out the plane window, quite a sight.

Excited about her first flight 

and the summer she’d spend away.

She mulled over words of a hymn,

her ponderings became so dim.         

“God thrills my soul,” the hymn did say.

“Jesus means more than life to me.”

She was thrilled about many things,
 this she recalled with some dismay:
cute guys, cool cars, this summer trip.

So many things made her heart flip.

But did He thrill her soul? No way.

At church, she felt most always bored.

Determined, she would seek the Lord

for her entire three-month long stay.

From summer’s start to summer’s end,

she asked the Lord to be her friend.

She read her Bible every day

and joined a church and helped them there.
Became more intimate with prayer.
Felt God’s presence in work and play.

Made strong, enduring Christian friends.

Now, on Christ’s love, this girl depends.

She learned that it’s great fun to pray.

On journey home, feelings intense,

she sang the hymn with confidence.

22/100 "Plea" for Poetic Asides Prompt

Poets 

P lease, bless my poet friends, I pray.

O pen doors along their way.

E ncourage their hearts as they write,

T ouching thirsty souls both day and night.

S pirit, move upon their words.

      May they soar like little birds.

21/100 Bayfield, Colorado Animas River

20/100 Nonet Poetic Asides Challenge

Thinking Place

Worries of the world wrangle within

Shaded wood, old broken bridge calms

Fresh blossom-scented breeze cheers

Dragonflies buzz above

Brown, curled leaves twirl by

Gnarled twigs rush past

Cold water

Bare toes

Ahhh!

19/100

Argument

Door opens and slams with squeak and bang

Clock rhythmically taps out time

Light shines through dust particles

Fly buzzes in next room

Chest rises and falls

Frig softly hums

Silence shouts

Alone

Still

18/100

Hands

I pray for Your will to be done

through  my hands:

when they touch

when they carry

when they work

when they type.

Whatever they do,

Lord, let your beauty

establish the works of my hands.

17/100

Watch Your Step

Infatuation betrays like

sheet rock in the attic.

Without the joist of commitment,

it may look like the real thing,

but ends up falling through.

16/100

Unexpected Trip (version III)

Passport goes missing before the big trip.

We search the house, in and out, upside down.

Retrace son’s steps, and follow every tip,

but looks like he’ll miss out on London town.

So off we go, a seven hour drive,

thinking he left it at his sister’s house.

A check in the mailbox when we arrive,

but, “There’s no passport here,” I phone my spouse.

So back on the road, it doesn’t feel real;

neon double rainbow extremely bright,

and then we see thick red dust, Mars-like feel,

then lightning storm, like fireworks, but white.

The trip’s a dry run—no reason or rhyme,

but wonderful surprises worth our time.

15/100

Unexpected Trip (version II)

Passport missing.

Turn the house upside-down

Retrace his steps

Pray

Nothing.

Daughter’s house?

Seven-hour drive to Phoenix.

No passport

Large unexpected check in the mailbox

Begin trip back.

Thick red dust, Mars-like feel

Neon bright double rainbow

Lightning storm—fireworks without color

Trip dry run,

but lovely surprises worth our while.

14/100

Unexpected Trip

So five days before my son and daughter

are supposed to leave for England, my son’s

passport goes missing. We turn the house upside-

down, retrace his steps, pray, but nothing.

Maybe he left it at my daughter’s house.

While my son keeps his eye appointment,

my daughter and I drive seven hours to Phoenix.

No passport, but in the mailbox is a large check

she didn’t expect. So on the drive back,

after Flagstaff, the wind blows the thick red dust

and we feel like we’re on Mars. So nice to

see something different. Then before Kayenta,

the double rainbow appears, brighter and clearer

than we’ve ever seen. The last two hours

we watch a lightning storm as thrilling as fireworks,

without the colors. So our unexpected trip

 was a dry run, but full of surprises worth our while.

13/100

Opportunist

The teapot sat pertly on the front burner

whistling its tune. Suddenly the lights

went out. I grabbed a flashlight

poured my tea, and grabbed a box of

pink frosted cookies. Not feeling noble,

I sat in my recliner and munched.

With a sigh, I wondered if there would

ever be hope for my diet. Better luck,

tomorrow. Now, I’ll enjoy a quiet moment.

12/100

A Moment

Like an Alzheimer’s patient

who can’t remember the past

or plan for the future

and has to live in the moment,

may I appreciate each second You give me

and use it efficiently.

Help me reach out, learn and grow, try new things

as if I have all the time in the world,

yet, at the same time be aware of brevity

and that I should live each moment  to the fullest.

Lord, thank You that someday I will have eternity,

eternity past and eternity future, no end.

May all I do in the moments I have here on earth

make a positive impact on eternity.

11/100 From Poetic Bloomings Prompt--That's My Line, Two

I Would Find Something Small to Do That I Know Would Make a Difference

(Linda Swenski, Prompt 63)

God

who made

the size of the universe

absolutely mindboggling,

made it up of equally astounding smallness.

Wisdom can be drawn from anything God does—

to accomplish big dreams, start with something small.

10/100 Seeds (A Sonnet) and wordle: hanging, guitar, juice, ignored, sorrow, regret, nerve, realize, deserving, security, battles, rage, precious, fortune

Seeds

Beneath a shade tree, hanging out alone,

I strum my guitar, picking out a tune.

I sip my juice and think of seeds I’ve sown.

Those I’ve so long ignored will grow up soon.  

I feel a pang of sorrow for each seed,

and regret as I watch them sprout and bloom.

I hadn’t had the nerve to pay them heed

and I realize the impending doom  

will fall on those deserving better care.

They long for safety and security.

Instead, the battles rage when I’m not there.

So with each new day, do they think of me?

Do they know they are precious to a ghost,

whose fortune was to drown far from the coast?

9/100

Muse on Strike 

My muse has gone on strike today

See it with its picket sign

At least it hasn’t moved away

I’m sure some day it will be fine 

My muse hasn’t shared its demands

What can a muse really want?

Not fame, riches or lands

Or a house down by the ocean front 

Perhaps it lacks some air to breathe

Or maybe just a kick in the butt
Don’t know what it really needs
Or how to get out of this rut

So if I get up out of this chair

And make myself some good hot tea

And think of poemy, dreamy things

Maybe my muse will come back to me

8/100

 Lazy Poet

 Sitting lazily in my chair

As if I hadn’t a single care

What it’ll take to get me up

Wish I had some tea in my cup

Or an idea for a real poem

Something that will truly show’em

But instead I write these random thoughts

And think about the should and oughts

Until I outright bore myself

Time to get my muse down from the shelf

7/100

This Is What Joy Looks Like

Legs and arms usually faltering, shuffling,

now splashing around in the water.

Body once stiff and contorted,

now floating, zipping, bobbing happily.

A face typically preoccupied with other worlds

now smiles, blows bubbles

and connects with others in an

honest-to-God, shiny eye-to-eye gaze.

This is what joy looks like.

6/100 "Lunar Wings" Grand Canyon

Moon-like-scape

Lures lunar fantasies  

Angel wings

5/100 Maine Blues

Nacre 

My house: kitchen, living room, bedrooms, bathrooms, hallway

My neighborhood: Ash, 1^st, 7^th, Madison

My town: church, park, library, WalMart

My world is small but I know You are big enough

to care for the smallest of things.

Sometimes I feel my life is the short end of the stick,

that I should be out more

going, doing, being, stretching, growing.

But for now I’m like that grain of sand in the oyster,

perhaps just an irritant to the world,

but if I persevere, maybe something beautiful, like a pearl.

4/100 Bar Harbor, Maine

Certainty 

Grass wilts, leaves fade, creation is unsound

Cars rust, men die, buildings fall to the ground

Ah, but look to His blessings from above

Mountains of mercy and oceans of love 

We can never know what the day will bring

Or even if dawn will ever take wing

Ah, but with the Lord, we can be sure of

Mountains of mercy and oceans of love 

Our days are numbered, many or a few

It’s out of our control, what others do

He sent His Son and Spirit like a dove

Mountains of mercy and oceans of love

Day #3

Grand Canyon

Large sandstones form a platform for the viewers.

Pinyon and juniper—the curtains.

A sharp ridge—the stage.

The variegated canyon wall

and pale blue sky as the painted backdrop. 

I couldn’t say it was beautiful,

not like mountains on an autumn evening.

Nor could I say it was my favorite place,

not like a shady creek and rustic bridge.

It wasn’t somewhere I’d return often

to while away my time.  

It was more of a spectacle

valued for its sheer size

and audacity,

like a giant space alien had take a bite out of the earth

and we had just come to stare at the teeth marks.

#2 Sedona, AZ pic and poem

Thrive 

Father, I pray for wisdom to value eternity,

yet see You in the details of daily living.

As cedars find nourishment in a rocky desert,

may I drink in Your presence through tough times.

#1 Sedona, Arizona Cathedral Rock