Struggles/ A Rhyme

 

Challenges are often like lightning

filled skies,  a light

With sheets of rain hiding the sun,

Presenting intimidating thunder,

And rivers rising high above their boundaries.

a flood

It’s always up to us to choose our destination.

With sagging head give up, lie down and drown,

Or get up, determined to overcome and build and ark.

accomp

Yearning For Yesterday/ A Rhyme

 

 

a cross 2

How I long for the good ole’ days,

And a second chance to change my ways.

It seems I’m never satisfied.

Having more than enough yet feel denied.

 

Should be rejoicing blessings everywhere.

Not complaining ’bout things like weather and hair.

It’s the wrong color. It’s to straight.

I’m too skinny. I’m overweight.

 

I’ve deep brown eyes, wish they were blue.

I’m plain ole me wishing I was you.

Want a better job and a newer home.

Want a sweeter ride and a trip to Rome.

 

Want exotic food and finer clothes.

If you send an orchid I want a rose.

God gives me gifts HE’d have me have.

If He sends aloe I  then want salve

 

Forgive me Lord. Don’t turn away,

From a foolish lamb who has gone astray.

When I pray I always ask for more.

I shall inventory what is in my store.

 

I will thank you Lord from day to day,

For the blessings you have sent my way.

Deep down I know worthy I’m not.

You died for me I am blood bought.

Elder Villanelle/ A Rhyme

vil·la·nelle
noun
 A nineteen-line poem with two rhymes throughout, consisting of five tercets and a quatrain, with the first and third lines of the opening tercet recurring alternately at the end of the other tercets and with both repeated at the close of the concluding quatrain.  (Miriam Webster definition)
a sun 2
Just these old cranky bones, be sittin’ in the sun.
Once I would have sweat and broke out with a sigh,
Now  just soakin’ up the heat ’til the day is done.
When the world recalls them old regrets I’ve got none.
Life’s been hard sometimes, even made me cry.
Just these old cranky bones be sittin’ in the sun.
Now life’s so simple got me thinkin’ this is fun,
And when the sun is risen I’m the lucky guy,
Now just soakin’ up the heat ’til the day is done.
My roles not over yet, not until I’m done.
It’s a holdin’ on just enjoying the blue sky.
Just these old cranky bones, be sittin’ in the sun.
Young feller over there, thinking my race has been run,
Life will soon teach him, we write our own goodbye.
Now just soakin’ up the heat ’til the day is done.
Still got a lot in me, like a smokin’ gun.
I’m mighty thankful the old sun is risen high.
Just these old cranky bones be sittin’ in the sun
Now just soakin’ up the heat ’til the day is done.

Play On Words/ A Rhyme

 

 

a word 2Written words on a printed page wisely inscribed by an ancient sage,

Or simply mumbled and rolled about, rhyming phrases tumbled out.

Millions of words from which to select filled with wonder or sheer neglect,

Chosen precisely? Chosen well? Random choice? Now who can tell?

Only the soul that placed them there can define per chance or with great care.

So go figure then or not. The only 2 choices that you’ve got!

How Did We Get Here?/ A Rhyme

 

 

a caterpillar

When I was young my biggest query was where did I come from? It left me leery!

Who made the earth? Who hung the moon? I never bought “Big Bang Kaboom!”

From a slimy amoeba, a hairy ape? These theories offered slight escape!

Thinking of a dragonfly or waterfall, it seemed that back behind it all,

I’d find artistic mastery of majestic capacity!

Watching a great green caterpillar crawl I glimpsed the mystery of it all.

There was a source for rustling leaves, the busy buzzing of the bees.

Behind the thunder and the rain. Who created everything?

It left no inkling of a doubt. God is what its all about!

An Earthly Promise/ A Rhyme

It’s fall so kiss the green goodbye.

The pumpkins are a telling signa pumpkinn.

The leaves turn yellow, orange, red.

Hear the ducks pass overhead.

Thank goodness for the pine.

It will not wither, will not die.

But stand through autumn, winter well.

A promise of a spring to come,

When everything returns to green.

A rhythm that is felt and seen.

With ear to earth the echo rings,

Of seasons past and yet to be.