I’ve been looking for this place for quite a while and it was right here where I left it. And that’s not all I found. Waiting at the gate with all the patience of Job, is Marie Elena Good! What better way to rekindle the poetic fires than to unlock this gate for perpetuity and pick up where we left off. We are excited to rejoin with each other and all of you, as we had from the beginning of our poetic journey, in tune and ready to resume our quest in the best garden for verse!
In our absence, we have lost some friends who have gone to their Peace. Salvatore Buttaci, Andrea Heiberg and Vivienne Blake were regular contributors to this site and I’m sure their spirit will rise again to celebrate our new endeavor. May they Rest in Peace.
So let us begin again, and as long as we’re on the subject of peace, we will offer this prompt for your poetic consideration. Peace and joy can be found in the written word; found by those who read them, and found by those who write what dwells within.
Write a poem about the peace that poetry brings to your glad hearts! Write of the joy it brings to you. Or write a piece about how much you love to pen your poems. Return home in peace and love and joy. And Good Lord willing, we’ll stick around this time. We promise as best we can!
A HEARTY WELCOME BACK TO POETIC BLOOMINGS from Marie and Walt!
***
MARIE ELENA’S RETURN:
THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME
The garden gate parts,
releasing sweet aroma
of former florae.
She softly steps in,
breathing the beauty that binds
virtuous voices.
The presence of peace
silences the restlessness
grinding at the gate.
Now bejeweled with joy,
renewing friends and florae,
she picks up her pen.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
WALT’S REBOUND:
THERE IS PEACE IN LOVE AND JOY
We look for truth in every eye
and know it when it shows.
We search for peace in every heart,
for a true heart really knows.
For in the heart, we love what’s dear
to fills us all with joy.
And in love and joy we find that peace,
every man and woman, girl and boy.
We do not choose the ones we’ll love,
for love will touch each soul.
We do not choose what gives us joy,
it’s out of our control.
But somehow we find that spark of peace,
and with it comes understanding,
that without love and without joy,
our peace will not be withstanding.
Search yourself to find your truth,
your eyes will not deceive you,
then look into your heart and see,
true peace will never leave you.
(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2018
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Good to be home, Pard.
Home? That’s that comfortable place grounded in peace and love and joy? Yeah, I like this place too! It’s good to be home.
How do I leave a poem? Welcome back!
Darlene Franklin Writing at the Crossroads of Love and Grace Latest releases: To Riches Again and Pony Express Romance Collection http://darlenefranklinwrites.com/ ________________________________
I’ve become an enthusiastic poet since last you aired, and I look forward to learning from you. Today I’m experimenting with copla de arte mayor and amphibracic tetrameter
Poeming brings back days when language was fun
I listened to tales of Revere and his ride
It wasn’t peaceful, but I learned the song
God’s word, filled with poems, I read night by night
Jesus loves me so, I could not deny it
And joy to the world, my heart sings at Christmas
Such love brings forth peace and joy rhyming within us
What poems will result, what joy and delight
Darlene Franklin
WELCOME, Darlene! Way to start us off! Thank you for your beautiful words. I see you live in a nursing home. I hope it is as wonderful as the place my folks were in. The staff was fabulous and loving.
Not exactly, Marie Elena. I am looking for someplace new. Poetry is my happy place–or a place to express my feelings. Either way, it’s a good release! And thanks for calling them “beautiful words”
I’m sorry to hear that. 😦 I sure wish all of them were as nice as where my folks lived. But we look forward to sharing more of your “happy place” with us!
Hi Darlene. Glad to see you again. “peace and joy rhyming within us
What poems will result”… It is always a pleasure to create.
Very much so!
Darlene, this is as Marie pointed out, a great start in our new beginning. You captured the essence of these three aspects: peace, love and joy. I’m also glad you’ve come to this place where language is fun once again. We look forward to your continued contributions!
Darlene, a lovely confirmation of the infusion of poetry in our lives. That recognition is an astounding joy.
Appearances
Calm as a bald man
while political winds stir
I am waiting still.
Good Morning, Patricia. Glad to see you awaken back here in the garden.
Yay, Patricia! So glad you are coloring our world with your words, as you create coloring books and other amazing things!
Patricia, I love this haiku. Peace (a special kind of baldness) is perhaps a prerequisite to powerful love or potent joy.
Where Do I Find Inspiration
… in the fragile and frayed,
in the light and cool,
in the whirl and gleaming
infinities of you.
In forest pines and rain
fresh as a child’s eyes,
in the tooth and the bone of
a North Sea breeze.
In young oak tree leaves,
in a summer sunset, in love
and in pain, and in waves
that foam around my feet.
In clear skies of icy blue,
and in my weariness always
made easier by you.
I am a molecule. An atom.
Dust and whitened ash.
I return to infinities,
back into your poem.
Marilyn, this is a piece of brilliance and a glimpse at your wonderful process. I’ve always stated that inspiration is everywhere we look, and your poem expresses exactly that. And I love the simplicity of the ending:
“I am a molecule. An atom.
Dust and whitened ash.
I return to infinities,
back into your poem.
Every bit of our being brings us to these basic facts. We are nothing more and nothing less. Mere specks in this grand plan, Thank you for this!
Thanks, Walt. It’s a good prompt.
Oh my goodness, Misk … I do believe everything you write grows from quality seed. Your poetry is simply outstanding, and it’s WONDERFUL having you here with us!
Thank you so much. I wish my uni coursework was as easily done!
😀 !
Misky, yes. The process you reveal here for finding your poems is what makes this garden so lovely and the visits to it so rich. Like a time lapse of a flower blooming, we get glimpses of how each petal of thought unfolds in our fellow writers hearts.
Thank you.
I like it very much. Tender and detailed.
Not exactly, Marie Elena. I am looking for someplace new. Poetry is my happy place–or a place to express my feelings. Either way, it’s a good release! And thanks for calling them “beautiful words”
And Then Some
I’m only here for God,
affirming my presence in the flow
of Grace, so blessed, so awed.
Spirit is all there is, I know.
As I send love into the world, to all,
my gifts are pure, unflawed.
I let my generosity stand tall,
knowing I am one with God.
I let thoughts of anger and death slip away,
my life filled with joy, each grateful day.
“each grateful day” is I think the key.
Each day is that grateful day, Daniel. And I’m grateful that you’ve come to spread your words like many seeds in this garden. They truly bloom!
Daniel, you are one I can always count on to lift my spirits with your words. I can’t thank you enough for that. ❤
"I’m only here for God,
affirming my presence in the flow
of Grace… "
*sigh*
What assuring words Daniel. A consciousness like a flower’s discovery of its own color.
Feels good to be back where I started.
Good to have you back, Debi. Were it that our mentor were still with us to see how your words have flourished in abundance. Poets truly triumph, as you’ve so pointed out. Your words always grace this place; glad to bring you “home”.
Thanks, Walt. I miss Sal… his mentoring, his poetry and his great big smile.
I can’t agree more, Pard.
Debi, it’s great having you join us. I miss Sal as well. So hard to believe he is gone. So thankful he mentored your poetic spirit.
Debi, how I live that sigh… The last satisfying word, and then to save and post. Beautiful poem.
Thanks, Damon
Got it!
Yes you do, Daniel!
IT’S SO GOOD TO BE BACK!
Eye of the Storm
I am surrounded.
Busyness is a wolf in modern clothing,
a Category 5 of frenetic frivolity
that parades as truth.
But here in the quiet place,
where my pen touches down
on the ground of white paper
are the words, “Peace, be still.”
I am surrounded, but by more.
The magnetic pull of life
loses some of its power here.
The winds wait for me,
But there is now more gravity
in my bones, ballasted by words
and the anchor for my soul.
It’s so good to have you back, Catherine. And Marie and I are happy due to the response to our return. I think we’ve all missed this place in our own ways, but alway somewhat for the same reasons.
I love the poem. In the midst of our private chaos, we know there is a sanctuary in the emotions we feel and express. The second stanza speaks volumes. “in the quiet place where my pen touches down” we seem to know and crave the peace that resides there. There is beauty in all of our hearts full of words, just as yours are expressed so well here.
Oh, Catherine … this is gorgeous, meaningful, flowing … Wow …
Catherine, wow on those last four lines.
A definite diagnosis of the peace a poet has.
Beautiful poem. The stillness away from busyness.
Finding the Love
Her pen squirts out blue words
Across a blank page of whiteness
Swoops and whirls that spell out
The peace of her garden at twilight
The joy of butterflies on pink Zinnias
The hallelujah of morning birds
More and more words until
The page is covered with squiggles,
Lines, and flourishes like
An abstract painting – waiting
For a reader to find the love
Hidden within
And I would say the love is poorly hidden, Candy! You make it so apparent in these words. And this poem is so descriptive of you; butterflies on pink zinnias (your profile icon), the peace of her garden at twilight…, the abstract painting which is worth every one of the thousand words the image would evoke. A very strong return, Candy!
Thanks, Walt. I’m glad you’re back!
“The hallelujah of morning birds”
And oh, we’ve found the love, hidden in plain sight. Sooo good to see you out here, Candy!
Thanks,Maria. Glad you’re back!
Oh, how I love this, Candy!
Thanks so much 😊
Candy,
I stood before the canvas of your words, my hands clasped behind my back, my head tilted to your poem, and saw the images emerge… they drew a smile on my heart.
Well done.
Thank you – what a beautiful reply.
Peaceful Possession
The blank page on the computer screen was hypnotizing
He nodded a time or two but fought off the sandman’s tempting
So many ideas, but not one that came to the forefront of his mind
The complications of life were taking their toll on his psyche
There was no joy in his heart, nor peace in his thoughts
His stare snapped to alertness as the printer came to life
Out of the blue it printed a page filled from top to bottom
He snatched the paper while the ink was still wet, so to say
And began to read words that stabbed him in the heart
Whoever had written this knew him both inside and out
As he read, every turmoil that swirled ‘round him jumped out
Each vividly described to a point beyond his own realization
Chaotic item after chaotic item driven out into the light
Nothing left to the imagination; everything defined perfectly
Everything, that is, except for an obvious and instant solution
He intently read his way from the top to the bottom of the page
Absorbing every last detail; details that matched him to a tee
He was aghast as he read the last line in this mysterious poem
All the while wondering if his printer had been possessed
Then again, out of the blue, another page rolled out on its own
With a cautious hesitation, he reached for the newly born page
This time there were but two lines of ink perfectly centered
They read, “Worry not, my friend, for God is the answer.
His peace that passes all understanding will see you through.”
In that moment, all his burdens took leave of his mind
And he awoke from his trance to see the pages were blank
And the computer had timed out to sleep mode, as had he
But something was different; he was at peace for the first time
His mind was clear as a bell, and he felt a jolt of joy in his heart
He knelt down to pray that those feelings would never end
© Earl Parsons 2018
Earl, you’re the man! A very relatable poem. The blank screen mesmerizes and hypnotizes, and you’ve written the emotion so well. It’s good to have you back in the fold. We appreciate your wisdom, patriot spirit and faith. Here’s to a solid and continuing relationship!
That peace that passes all understanding does just exactly that … passes all understanding. Nicely penned! Glad to have you with us! Sorry I had to pull you out of the spam bin to get here. 😀
So I must ask, Earl: True story?
Well, my printer isn’t possessed, but I can relate somewhat. When all the pressures of life and the world were upon me, I felt the hand of God lifting me back into His reality. More than once, I might add. And I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.
I’ll be writing from experience as much as possible as the prompts spark the memory glands. It’s been a couple of miracle years during the PB hiatus, and I thank God for still being around. Let’s poem.
Hear, hear!!
I remember the brief exchange we had before the bottom fell out on the both of us, Earl. I’m very happy that we are also both still here to continue our journey. Take these prompts wherever they lead and your experiences will be an interesting perspective from which to work. Continue to write, my friend. Marie and I anticipate a long association with you among our numbers. Stay well.
Absolutely. And I’m glad you are both still with us, too. ❤
Earl, you can’t imagine how relatable, as Walt described, this is. Especially to me. I’ve been in a deepening trance for months as my Mom’s health declined, and my writing desire practically withered… What did get written slept dormant in a scatter of entries in a neglected journal, full otherwise of notes on medication changes, condition notations, medical contacts, updates to family.
The time composed a forceful page full of anxiety, touch and go moments , intense focus on Mom’s comfort management, and it demanded to be read every day. .. . I didn’t realize the whirlwind of stress I was in.
Near her departure we had a rough 45 days. When she let go and went home to her reward, that 2nd glorious page emerged from my printer, too, with that simple promised comfort. I knew I could breathe and write again.
So glad to be back in the garden.
Back where a kindred soul belongs, Damon. Welcome “Home”. W.
My seven acre sky is back! Damon, I’m so glad you are here. I know exactly what you mean, when you speak of your mother’s failing health, and “I knew I could breathe and write again.” When we are utterly consumed with trying to help our loved ones whose bodies are failing them, it is hard to think of anything else … let alone have thought or time for creativity. I’m so sorry for your loss, yet happy for your mother. I can relate. We lost Mom February 9. Dad followed her home on March 15. They were in poor health for far too many years. I’m happy that they are with their loving God, and with each other. They were together 70 years, here.
Anyway, welcome back to the garden. Looking forward to some lovely poems of yours.
God bless you, Damon.
Thanks Marie. So hard to let them go but she’s at peace w her Savior. We had a treasure in her and those riches are always ours.
Amen. ❤
Damon, first of all, sorry for your loss. I thought we were losing our mother a couple of months ago, but my sisters intervened and forces her to go to the hospital where they discovered she needed a pacemaker. After much fussing and fretting, and a bad lead that had to be reconnected, she’s back on the mend and feisty as ever. Thank God.
In addition, I have a feeling that this poem relates to more than would admit it. For me it came from a 27 day fight for my life in late 2016 that I’m still working to recover from. That’s why I thank God that Walt and Marie are back together, because Poetic Bloomings has been my favorite poet group. Here we are all family, and the challenges are the best.
So glad to be back, and so glad so many family members are back, too.
Same sentiments for this group, Earl. Keep on recovering, poetry is a healing therapy, a balm to use and share.
Cheers, Dears. You know I can’t let a prompt stand as written, don’t you?
peaches and joy and chagall
I love to see the groom and bride weaving
through the chimney pots, soaring
like married kites. They make me happy
the way peaches do, dripping with sunlight.
Sometimes I make peach sandwiches on white.
Sometimes I slice peaches like hemi-cheerios.
Peach juice runs down my chin hairs. Joy
sticks to my fingers and my wedding ring.
BARBARA! Of COURSE we know! Don’t you know poetry wouldn’t be the same without you being exactly you? 😀 Love this! Especially this:
Peach juice runs down my chin hairs. Joy
sticks to my fingers and my wedding ring.
You bring me joy, lady.
Don’t I know it! But whatever you offer is so full of life and mirth and joy, I just throw it out there and anticipate your response. Your vision plays on my sensibilities and vice-versa. Glad to have your sageness here in the plot of poetics we’ve cultivated here.
Sageness. Ha. More like borageure or nasturtimania.
Hey, you’re talking about my idol there! There is a spark of madness at work there. I have my own issues!
Barbara, I did not purposely steal my idea from your poem, but the juice part must have still been in my subconscious.
I’ve done that. Words are kind of like cat hair. Brush up against one and it goes home with you. I like what you did with it.
🙂
Barbara, wow what luscious joy you expressed. Love it.
Poetry
P ainting with words and passion
O pening hearts, in a fashion
E ssence of love, joy, and peace
T easing, tantalizing release
R eading and writing poetry
Y ields a soulful of esprit
Nice acrostic, Connie! Don’t you love it when there are an even number of letters in the word, so you can rhyme if you wish? 😀 “Tantalizing release,” for sure. ❤
How true of any entry in the garden, especially ‘opening hearts in a fashion’.
Loved this Connie.
Expected one of your well-done acrostics out of the chute! You did not disappoint!
If we are not all of the above, then we are not anything. Thanks for this, Connie!
CATHARSIS
When heart’s full
and mind is racing
my words spill
and they fill
the page, five lines at a time.
Peace made possible.
PAULA!! ❤ ❤ You are a master of this form. Beautifully done, as always, five lines at a time. It's all you need.
Thanks, Marie. Shadormas and I have crossed paths only a few times over the past several months…but as suspected, the syllables poured out right on cue.
I remember when you first began using this form. It seemed to just latch on to you and find its home! So glad you are writing again!
As much as I count on Connie’s acrostics in a poem, I rely on you to to serve up one of these, Paula. Glad to “see” your voice out here with the rest of our outstanding poets! Keep spilling those words, five lines at a time or whatever.
I do hope to continue to spill…but most of my words have been spilling onto grant applications these days…and they take far more than five lines and 26 syllables. But I will come back as often as I’m able, to this wonderful “peace” of garden!
I like the rhythm and aliteration of your poem, Catharsis.
Thank you, StoryGal! 🙂
Carolyn, Paula. Paula, Carolyn.
There! A formal introduction!
Paula, from the overflow of the heart the mouth speaketh.
You said it so well.
My poem forgot the love part. Oh, well. It is short and maybe sweet:
Poetic Joy and Peace
Joy jumps up
when juicy words
spurt forth.
Joy jams up
when parched phrases
crawl out.
Peace comes
with a period.
Period.
Sheryl Kay Oder
I apologized to Barbara (above) for subconsciously stealing juice idea. It was not purposeful, but it happened. 😦
The love part of your poem is in the decision to come and write with us again, Sheryl. Besides, the prompt could Have been just one aspect presented: love, peace and/or joy. It surely does qualify as sweet. Short never enters into our thinking. It is a poem simply stated!
I like it, Sheryl. Short and sweet.
Good one, Sheryl! I especially like:
Joy jams up
when parched phrases
crawl out.
So glad to have you with us!!
Marie Elena
Sheryl, the love part was the sharing of it.
Marie, your piece reminds me of your trepidatious nature when you suggested we may like to reopen the site. You seemed to walk softly until I gave the response you hoped would come. You were All quiet confidence after that!
❤
Peace
Do I detect peace?
the garden bears its fruit
for the tiller of the soil
and the hand that sowed the seed
Do I detect peace?
while walking in my neighbourhood
praying for people I do not know
on a cooler evening before dusk
Do I detect peace?
sitting in the pew, waiting and wondering
people gathered to listen
what message will we hear today?
Do I detect peace?
Yes, there and more, in the quiet moments
before sleep, upon awakening
when God makes his presence known
Carolyn Wilker
This piece instills peace, Carolyn. So calming, and points me to my God. Thank you! And glad to meet you!
Marie Elena
Thank you, Marie Elena. Connie invited me to join in.
Excellent! Welcome!
Carolyn, as my partner so aptly stated, this poem exudes a sense of pure peace. And much like inspiration, peace can be found anywhere we look. In our neighborhoods, in our place of worship, in an infant’s whimper, in a gentle sigh … we can find peace. A well written piece! Glad you’ve decided to join us. You’ll find our contributors very supportive and encouraging and above all else, we have fun.
Thank you, Poetic Bloomings.
nice to see you here, neighbour, Carolyn! I have yet to plant a plume!
Go ahead and try it, Janet.
Carolyn, glad to meet you here.
Your poem is a lyrocal nventory of peace places and moments.
Beautiful and comforting.
Thank you, Damon.
Wonderful to “see” you all again. I have been really struggling to write – anything – so I hope working in the garden helps. Gardening is therapy, isn’t it? This may come across as a bit dark (for me). Rest assured all is well just had a spell of sleepless nights and crazy dreams….. I think I need a vacation 🙂
Piece of Peace
Looking for that piece in my mind
That seems to have lost peace of mind
Praying it’s found in perfect time
Much sooner than the morning chime
The clocks on the wall scream their step
While bones count tocs of tics unslept
Trains chase traffic and cars go free
While a mind be stuck where it be
The rhyme has left the words have gone
As if the ravens grasped the tongue
Holding and stretching till it be numb
Wrapping its ends around each thumb
Shouting futile no noise be made
In this peculiar midnight raid
The breath has left I gasp for aid
Just for some rest what can I trade
Words seem broken lost before ink
Silence louder than what I think
Twitch of an eye bracing a blink
Nightmares or sleepless at the brink
I know the peace of pastures green
I’ve counted sheep that none have seen
I know the Master Shepherd’s voice
And wait in faith upon His choice
The streams will flow the hills rejoice
Upon the songs of the silent voice
Time will come when peace be complete
Gazing in awe our Saviors feet
Welcome Back, David! Well, if you’re looking for rest you may find life less stressful in the Garden. A beautiful “prayer” above. For whatever time we have to share this place, may we do it in His Good Grace!
Hear, hear!
David! I was hoping you would join us! I adore the way you string words together. “While bones count tocs of tics unslept” is just so fun and so brilliant, even in its weariness. And it sure does look to me like you’ve found your voice. May God grant creative energy in the day, and restorative sleep at night. Welcome back!
David, what would our peace be without some angst to help us measure it?
Love this and have been dealing with this same dilemma for months. Very comforting to have a fellow poet express it.
Rhythmical and calming. I like it. Thanks for sharing.
SOMEbody has been digging in the dirt, beautifying our site! Walt, it looks so lovely! Thank you!
Thank you, too! I figured I’d start pulling my weight around here. You know, get my hands dirty?
To Summer’s Guests
Be your own guest. where life’s best, summer-living
Is giving grand reasons to get out of bed
Come; take an hour to get reacquainted
With friendly-faced flowers, gold, purple, pink, red
Take a lake-break where its lay laps the skyline
For soon gales will lash silver stars to white froth
Be your own guest; rest a bit between pages
Study the fine fretwork of green-whispered cloth
Love, joy and peace is a garden in August
Bursting with bloom after warring with weeds
Fruit laden baskets, still-life masterpieces
Butterflies bobbing over thickets and reeds
Work with awareness of what waits, my darling
Spend time, not money where summer spills free
Linger where cricket-song serenades gardens
Do three-hour picnics beneath an old tree
Love while life grants you the dance of a season
Joy is far more than a three-letter word
It sings in flowers where peace paints a picture
That fills summer’s framework with tincture soon blurred
Another beauty from the “porch”. You help brighten this place and make it special, Janet! I know finding the time can be difficult sometimes, but very glad you could squeeze in here. Look forward to more when you can! Love the rhyme.
Thank-you Walt! lovely to be here …you and the rest of ‘the poem-crew’ keep this garden extra-special! hope to be more than a plant-and-run part of this when I can! Regular daycare has changed the dynamics of my day-to-day immensely for the time being but we all know nothing lasts for long!
I couldn’t agree more! Janet, your always-uplifting, prolific/terrific style plants a smile on my face, every time! I’d say every garden needs a porch. ❤
thank-you Marie, for your sun-shiny words as always!
Oh my goodness, Janet.
“Be your own guest, rest a bit between pages.
Study the fine fretwork of green-whispered cloth…”
That tells this garden experience all in a single line.
I didn’t know what I’ve been missing.
Loved this.
Damon, Thanks for being an encouraging and supportive force in this peaceful place. It is good to have you back in the fold. Look forward to your poetic expressions when they starts to flow!
Thanks Walt. I get it all back in this garden.
thank-you Damon:)
Janet, this is so lovely…so visual, sensual. The last verse is magic!
Aha! Found where to put the comments!! Love, Love, Love your poems. Love being part of this awesome group. Here is my humble donation to this prompt.
Birthing
The letters take shape out of the ether
onto the blank sheet,
forming lines of wordy images.
Something emerges – fresh, dewy –
slowly, the veil lifts, until
the entire creation breaks forth,
as the writer – midwife to poetry –
gazes in admiration.
© 2013 Linda M. Rhinehart Neas
Linda! So happy we are graced with your presence! Lovely piece, this. ❤
Beautiful Linda… a poem new born is a gift of life.
midwife to poetry…wow!. yes. What a fresh way to look at the birth of a poem…and right after i just watched my first episode of Call the Midwife a few evenings ago!!! thank-you Linda!
Very nice piece, Linda. I’m pleased that you’ve come to join us in the Garden. A very supportive and enlightened group were assembling here. I was worried there was a problem with the site when you couldn’t see the link to the comments. But we got you in and that’s what matters. Marie and I look forward to your work. Walt.
Poetic Mercy
This is poetic mercy
we enjoy;
the freedom to engage a word of choice,
the right to split a sentence
where we choose,
the license to turn verbs to nouns at will,
and with it all, to rhyme,
or rhyme refuse.
We call it ‘poem’ and name,
or name it not.
And with these mercies given
we employ:
love that we’ve discovered, relished, lost;
joy, knowing readers know our hearts;
peace from having spoken our own minds;
we weave the three together, words of art.
We call them poems, and name,
or name them not.
This is a surpass I do not deserve,
a mercy I will not decline:
the words that I am given,
I can give
to you,
but they will still
be mine.
(c) 2018 Damon Dean, SevenAcreSky
And if we paraphrase here Damon, by your words we will know you. Our voices are distinctive, and the words we craft will define our heart arts. We choose to write poetry because we can. These mercies, these liberties, this poetic license is wielded at our discretion to touch those who make the choice to read these poems. These are the first steps of our new excursion into expression and you have put that first step out there to lead. I enjoy this poem.
Goodness, SO well penned. The way you end each stanza … just creative and excellent Love the way you display your poetic heart.
gorgeous Damon!…you had me with the first line!
I like the vision of these words:
the words that I am given,
I can give
to you,
but they will still
be mine.
Apologies, I did say I would join in too. But writing and typing are physically painful at present, and likely to be so a long time to come – which in turn has me feel not very peaceful. So not now, sorry.
No apologies needed, Rosemary. I understand the reasons and know what a frustration it must be for the heart to be willing, but not to be able to work past the pain of something debilitating. If you find a day where the pain is less, feel free to come by and let us know how you are doing (and if it sure be in poetic form, all the better). It even if you only come by to read our works, we’d be honored to know you are reading them. Be well, my friend. I’ll be keeping you in my thoughts!
YES. No apology needed, Rosemary! We will enjoy your words as they come, and as you feel up to it. In the meantime, please take care of yourself!
[…] open for you comments or new submissions. The Garden gate never closes, at least not any more. Prompt #209 – LET THE BE PEACE AND LOVE AND JOY can be found at this […]
Perfect peace in an imperfect world?
Only possible through Jesus.
#seventeenineighteen
YES. Love your 17. Love my Jesus. ❤
Written in Appreciate Form.
The Search for Peace
I searched
Both far and near
But peace eluded me
Until one day I saw His face
And now Peace lives within me
Amen. Well expressed.
Nice! Short and sweet in a good way.
I do love and feel the joy
of another piece of pie.
Boy, Oh boy!
I can pass up cake,
make no mistake. but if pie
is nigh? My oh my!
Pie, cookies or cake!!
No matter which you make.
My downfall!
Oh, my my!!
Teeheehee!
Marie