This week’s prompt brought all the beauty and hope of the Easter season.  Your words were filled with praise, and filled my heart to overflowing.  Thank you, all.  Yet among all the beauty, one piece stung and haunted me all week:  David De Jong’s Cross on a Hill.  David managed to dig deeply to see himself as one who single-handedly crucified Christ. Amen, and so did I.  His attention to detail stunned me, and had me right there at the site.  All I can do is say thank you, David, for this gripping piece.

Cross on a Hill  (By David De Jong)

A lone cross shadows the valley below
Its arms outstretched facing the storms that blow
Fashioned a dark, drizzled, early Spring day
Rough beams of wood, with everything to say
With hammer and chisel, cold tools of steel
Each driving blow made me wince with the feel

Tears flowed freely leaving stains in the grain
Hammering the nails causing all His pain
All alone as one abandoned by God
Rendering this symbolic monopod
Once finished I planted it in the earth
It took all of my strength all I was worth

I placed it facing the storms and the winds
This symbol of forgiveness from our sins
My heart emptied securing it in place
All I could see was the look on His face
I begged relief, forgiveness of my past
He brought me grace, hope, true peace that will last

I trod the fields to gather varied stone
Each represents a burden of my own
Placed with prayer at the foot of this cross
My trials my burdens left in the dross
Nothing can move them placed there in His name
He carries me, taking my guilt, my shame

I drove His nails I wove His crown of thorns
I led the crowd with shouts and deathly scorns
I lashed the whip across His ravaged back
I took His life but He didn’t ask it back
Instead He gives me life, life so complete
A life where my Savior washes my feet

When I go to visit this humble place
It still stirs my heart, His amazing grace
I think of the grave, the stone rolled away
How that stone really wasn’t in His way
It was moved, so we could see deep inside
Christ the Lord has Risen! In Him Abide!


The topic for our prompt had many facets. And left up to our interpretations we were able to span the spectrum. So in invoking our right to honor you the poets, I have chosen two BLOOMS to convey this fact.”The Rise and Fall of a Dreamer” by Iain Douglas Kemp and “He Is Alive” by Janet Ruth Martin cover the gamut of what this prompt could inspire. To the two of you, here are your BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS!

The Fall & Rise of a Dreamer (by Iain Douglas Kemp)

The Dreamer was a quiet man; he’d lived a quiet life.
Ensconced in his own world, his sanctuary, his mind,
His imagination, his dreams. He followed his own path
On the outside looking in. The world held no place for him;
His kind were never invited to life’s family picnic

Perhaps he was mad he’d thought to himself.
Nay! Said to himself, he always thought aloud.
Conversations with the inner-man, the mind.
A sign of madness surely. He had no time for reality,
It hurt too much. It stung, it burned, it froze his soul.

Came a day he saw a light. He saw the way, the future.
He stepped forth into the bright new dawn.
He enthralled those around him with his charm and wit.
He wrote, he sang, he danced, he laughed.
And the great and the good laughed WITH him.

Inside still he harboured a fear never to be voiced:
They would turn as vicious spiteful serpents do.
They would cut him down from his new found glory.
They would ridicule, belittle and laugh once more – AT him.
Hush now! The voice inside, lest you wish the joy away!

Came the day he’d dreaded most – the betrayal.
They turned, they scorned, the whispered jeers.
Face to face all sweetness and light and lies.
The sugar-coated poison cut deeper than the truth.
The truth they would not speak in words aloud.

The truth showed plain in gesture, act and deed-
They meowed and purred still in his sight.
But scratched and clawed and bit hard behind his back.
They pushed him once more into the cavern of darkness.
And there he sat alone, in thought, in pain, in his dreams again.

But they knew him not, for he was stronger than they could see.
Try, try, try again! He scoffed and crushed the feeble spider ‘neath his boot!
He rolled away the stone and stepped forth into the bright new dawn.
And proclaimed: “I am here, I will not leave, I will not hide!”
You! You will see that I feel no pain nor will I feel mercy!

And so he rose, growing from strength to strength.
And the cold and callous shrunk away sneering still.
Their fear was of no concern, the loyal, the true, the trusted –
They still stood proud at his side. They held sword-guard at his back.
They proclaimed in a clamour:“He is risen!. His dreams you won’t deny!”


He is Alive (by Janet Ruth Martin)

If we had been there at on that day
To watch them take His body down
And then heard His disciples say
‘He is not here now, but is risen’
If we had seen with our own eyes
The guards that watched the stone sealed grave
Would we like Thomas, have replied
When I see Him I will believe?

We will be here on That Day
When Jesus’ Grace and Glory rends
The sky; like the veil, done away
Then, as His Majesty descends
We will see with our own eyes
The One who died to set us free
God is not dead; HE IS ALIVE
When we see Him, all will believe

© Janet Martin

Congratulations to David, Iain and Janet! Great work to all our poets!