God Thoughts

Mythic truth

God reached into God’s heart
and gathered perfectness
that shone like a cut crystal.
Tossed it into the cosmos
and Mary on a tiny dot
in a vast universe caught it
and it became a man
cradled it in her womb,
arms, heart.

A perfect man. Perfect sacrifice.
Perfect atonement. For the world
For creation. Then, He returned
the Spirit came, remained.
God, the Three, glowing still.

Supernatural

I look at earth, sea, air and all things therein. The detail, design, intricacy, variety, purpose, how things work together and it is a sign to me of something supernatural… other than. I see in all peoples a bent toward worship, service, and some acknowledgement of God that interprets itself into a religion. The very few who eschew the concept of a creator have rejected one God for another. They become their own god living for their own ends, gratified in their ability to shape their own lives, and answer to no one but their own conscience. It is all a choice. That I choose one over the other doesn’t make me more enlightened – or less so. I speak for myself, not for you. I’ve drawn a line between what I believe and what I can’t believe and those things I will take on shaky faith.

In this universe
immense and mysterious
there’s room for magic.

Beloved?

I often wonder what my relationship to God should look like, not to other people but to God.  Does He look at me with eyes of a father? Mother? Lover? Judge? What will the relationship be like when He ends this world and begins another? And I write those words and think it absurd to believe in Eden. Shangri-La. Utopia. But, oh, how I hope it is all true.

The Grass is Greener

If you are looking for Imaginary Garden prompt “stairs” go  here

 

mindlovemisery  Photo Challenge #200

– Justin Peters

I have everything I need
right here on earth
and every good thing
that I’ve been graced with
and love, and family.
Yet, still I look to the sky
and dream of all those unseen
things and places and maybe faces
I will never know.
And I wonder if my dreams
are greater than reality
or if reality is grander
than I can imagine.

And They Say it was A Better World

 

imaginarygarden Rhubarb Imagined By Paul John Dear

You set me up for a fall
I thought you knew
what you said was true
propaganda was in foreign
places, faces here I could trust
“And that’s the way it is”
wasn’t always so
and the good guys didn’t
always win.
Woman’s place wasn’t after all
in the kitchen and bed,
seen but not heard.
The cold war, Vietnam,
Kennedy, King, Nixon…
No wonder I began to doubt
everything.

 

Grew up on Gunsmoke, Bonanza, and other westerns because we lived with our grandfather. Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, and other family shows that gave a skewed version of marriage and equality… etc, etc, and so forth. Sorry this turned depressing.

Mountain Dreams

pinkgirlink  STACY MAR

 

Nestled in the Appalachia under
the gaze of East River Mountain
on this dark, frosty midnight
I watch from my window the
moonlit landscape as the wind,
blistery, wintery, skirts the corner
scatters dried leaves like mice
scampering from the calico cat.
My breath wreathes the pane
in delicate snowflake patterns
and I shiver at the beauty…
a fairyland tabloid of silvered
delight. Turning, I stand over
the furnace let the warm air billow
my gown. I invite the shadowy
images painted by the moon
across the floor and walls
join me as I run to the warmth
of my bed to sleep the sweet sleep.

I Got to Leave

Music Prompt #17: “100x” by Tegan and Sara #musichallenge #music #amwriting
Mindlovemisery prompt by mandibelle16

 

isn’t it funny how we got lost in love
isn’t it funny that two became one
cause it isn’t meant to be that way
isn’t meant to give yourself away
isn’t meant to stray so far
I mean it’s just not par
for the course of true love…
So here I am about to leave
as you gently tug my sleeve
let me be, let me be,
can’t you see I grieve
for the loss of me.
I don’t know who I am
what I want or where to go
I only know I’ve lost my way
too tired to play
this game of make believe.
I got to leave. I got to leave.

 

98.6

 

Quickly

Maybe the fire of youth singed
nerve endings or scarred my heart
or maybe the intense conflagration
left only cold ashes, no fuel left
to kindle even one thin smoky line
of flare. I guess I should care.
I read love poems that aver
without passion life is empty
but I’ve not found it so.
I don’t desire, don’t need
that fever pitched agony
an explosion of emotion.
In this winter season
your love is persistent,
hearth warmth, steady heat,
comfortable, easy, peaceful,
a tingle of familiar.
The consolation of duration.

 

A Serendipitous Serenity

Quickly

Tree tops swaying in the breeze
to music the stars hum
Grasses nodding their heads in unison
as the wind nudges from behind
White capped waves undulating endlessly
Flock of starlings weaving like marching bands
Schools of fishes dancing to choreography
those delicate movements move me
(woolgathering, wasting time, laziness,
some think, some say, some sneer)
though I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the grace,
the beauty, the spontaneity. Maybe it’s just
that it tickles the jejune, surprises the jaded,
astonishes the negativity that grows in me
year by weary year of man kindled nastiness.
All I know is that my heart slows down,
the heaviness lifts, the years roll away
and I am a big-eyed child of wonder again.

Blue Opal

A magnificent blue opal
Source: Dpulitzer via Wikimedia Commons

 

thetwiglets  more than blue

More than blue
A whole world of islands
floating in a zaffre sea
I could get lost in those
flecks of crystals
orbiting like a satellite
in an opaline universe.

Respect

mizquickly

Käthe Kollwitz
The Parents (Die Eltern) (plate 3) from War (Krieg)
(1921-22, published 1923)

August Sander: Lumpenball Em dekke Tommes, 1929. Private Collection, Gerd Sander. The Tate

They prayed and wept together
over their prodigal daughter
grief like a burn that never heals
she laughed at their silly mores
and lived her every pleasure.
Get up off your knees old people
I’ll get respectable soon enough
then what will keep you together?

The Eyes Have It

imaginary garden Fireblossom Friday : “The Distorted Lens”
So, your task is to write from the point of view of someone who is seeing reality through a distorted lens.

 

Pink Girl and Blue Boy
(Mom’s ceramic phase)
sat on the dresser
ignored for the most part
I didn’t like them
but … well, Mom made them.

I picked them up, dusting beneath
then placed them back carelessly,
started to walk away. I felt eyes on
my back, chills on my flesh,
evil in the room and looked behind.

They were glaring at me. I felt their
hate, their spite. I told them it wasn’t
me who had imprisoned them there.
They just glared, nostrils flared,
I was scared to death. Death was in

their minds. I walked back and with
a swipe of my hand swept them to
the tiled floor. Swept up the mess
as my husband ran up the stairs.
You okay, he asked. I told him what

had happened. I didn’t understand
the strange look in his eyes. It began
to be perfectly clear though. Disembodied
spirits like to choose their own hosts.
I’m going to watch him really close.