poem – penpaletteheart

Snow Falls

Falling Snow

Snow falls on a dreaming day,

When spruce and pine barely

Lift their dragging branches

For the weight of their icy burden,

And the empty white expanses

Of vellum and screen

Press down on my bowed shoulders

While I pursue an errant muse.

Some Say

Some Say

Some say I believe myths, Lord,

But I think that’s so unfair

Since they believe that U F O’s

Are flying everywhere.

Some say You are a crutch, Lord,

But You’re just what I need

For I am lame in Spirit

And your help makes me succeed.

Some say its just happenstance

All the miracles I see,

But miracles keep happening

When I ask You faithfully.

Some say that I am blind, Lord,

To the truth that science finds,

But I cannot forget, Lord,

That You made those human minds.

Although I love my friends, Lord,

I know they’ve been misled.

Please open up their hearts, Lord,

To the truth You’ve done and said.

The Wild World

The Wild World

The world is wild and full of care;
There is danger everywhere,
And yet, when I look above
I see the grandeur of God’s love.

The way through life is full of snares
Of empty pleasures, foolish dares,
But when I smell the blooming spring
I know God’s love is everything.

No manmade lights can compare
To all the twinkling stars up there.
No thrill of speed nor vain award
Can tempt me ever from my Lord.

When many years have dimmed my eyes,
And life no longer holds surprise,
My heart will yearn with keen desire
To sing in God’s celestial choir.

The Designer

falling_snow_trees

The fall fashion show is done;
The trees have all disrobed,
Shed their scarlet raiment,
Their glitt’ring jewels of gold.
Divested of their glamour,
They stand in barest array,
Awaiting the Designer
To finish his display.
Although their fall finery
Was so colourful it glowed,
It can’t be compared to
Their beauty when it’s snowed.

Naked November

naked maple

Naked November maples
Stand with bare limbs raised,
Imploring heaven
To dress them.

My Last Pansy

Last pansy

Jack Frost stopped by last night
Wielding his wintry wand,
Touching all the flowers
Of which I had grown fond.
The bright dahlias fainted,
The dainty asters swooned,
Sunflowers bent their heads
While the east wind crooned.
Yet one purple pansy
Remained steadfast, alert,
Tucked in the rock garden
In its warm bed of dirt.
Did Jack Frost miss it?
Was he just being kind –
Leaving a memento
Of sweet summer behind?

May Flowers

newly opened yellow tulips

The hyacinths are blooming;
Their sweet perfume abounds.
New tulips are standing tall
Where crocus last was found.
Crimson cardinals are wooing
Feathered maidens in the trees,
And the promises of summer
Softly whisper in May’s breeze.

orange tulip cup Frilled tulips