POEMS & ARTICLES

In shades of pink, the tulips bloom,
within the quiet of the room;

The dreary land is grey and cold,
confined within the icy hold
of winter, like a prison cell,

The sky is a massive tarpaulin of grey,
lying sodden and heavy over the land.

When tyrannous destruction rages,
we search for solace that assuages,

She takes a breath and steps away from shadows that are dim and grey.

Find Him in a humble stable
born to challenge death and win.

They came to seek the hope of ages
prophesied by mystic sages.

The birds still sing though winter reigns.

With festive carols playing,
the windows are displaying . . .

She returns to the solitude  
of a painted dream,

Like a butterfly arising
in the sunlight to the skies,

Though challenges like mountains block our way,
and we must face the storms that each day brings

Divine direction lights the way
and gives us evidence for hope.

Attend to the ethereal 
and scintillating sound,

The bird that perches in the tree,
from burdens of distress, is free.

Like butterflies with bronze and golden wings,
that flutter to the earth in dying flight,

I can only think in rhyme,
carried along by the rhythm,

The only way for her to reach this place,
was to climb the mountain;
a giant volcanic citadel, soaring towards the clouds.

Beyond this place a region lies,
where gleaming marble mountains rise,
and rainbows curve their ribboned beams,

She stands before a mirror that is broken,
with jagged cracks distorting her reflection . . .

The books she is reading alone in the night
illumine her mind with a curious light,
revealing a pathway ahead,

Streets glitter
with sparkling showers

The moon is like a gleaming pearl
above the tropic ocean,
where crested waves like seashells curl

A knight in amour stands within a clearing,
as sunlight sparkles through the leafy cover
of branches as he waits for her appearing.

From a tanzanite sky, festooned with opal clouds,
Spring gazes upon her verdant banquet.

She ties ribbons around the stems
of gathered conversations;

She hears the wind,
moaning a low song,
as she walks between light and darkness,

When Jesus comes
the raging darkness starts to fade.

The crow looks circumspectly through the rain with ebon eyes,

They walk beneath the waning sun
while smoke is rising in the air.

An iridescent wonderland unfurls,
where unicorns with gleaming horns like pearls,

The street on which I walk to work each day,
is lined with trees I pass along the way;

The blush of spring is surging
through shrouds of crystal white,

A thunderous deluge of tropical rain,
resounds in the indigo sky,

The topaz light to which she turned her face,
has disappeared behind a black eclipse.

She sits alone beside the river
watching rippled currents run.

A steam powered city with towers of brass
and intricate swirling designs,

The Lord is close to those who call His name,
though disillusionment has brought despair.

Unequalled is the Lord’s unfailing love,

Like mountains surrounding and rising
and shielding the vulnerable land,
His generous goodness comprising
the touch of His merciful hand.

A princess looked out of her window and saw,
a prince on a galleon approaching the shore,

Galactic pirates stride across the plain,
while flying microraptors circle high,
and light from Jupiter begins to wane.

Flames reach up;
slender glowing hands,
stroke the temporal branches
with a searing caress.

A tree beyond my bedroom window stands,
with fragile drooping branches hanging low,
as if to touch the ground with trailing hands,

She passes her time in a derelict hall,
where pillars of marble around her stand tall,

Like flames beneath the sapphire haze,
the fluttered fins of orange fish,
are brightly lit by golden rays

Bone white mist rises like cold breath
from the dying earth;

Like melted butter moonlight pours,
through spiderwebs and window panes,

Sprouting fingers digging slowly,
through the damp amorphous earth.

She hears the rhythmic music of the band, above the waves that whisper in the night.

Her bed is a boat,
rocking beneath a canopy of stars,

The patients sit in listless rows
as worry and discomfort grows,

Together, silent, walking
near where the river flows.

A snarling wind that bites and howls
is tearing at the waves,

She was sitting in her garden on a pleasant summer day, when she heard the sound of music as a flute began to play.

Perspective from a broken place
where debris hides her view,
impedes attempts to faintly trace
the form of what is true.

Her echoed whispers fade away
while he is gazing at his face,

Within the vivid garden of her mind, he light cascades in golden ribboned beams,

Lord God, You are our fortress and our strength, our refuge while the battle fires burn.

Along the road, decrepit buildings stand, where beasts that roared with industry lie dead.

Upon the Duke’s palatial grounds
where sparkling fountains streamed

Soft feathered scarlet ignites the sleeping winter branches

Rewards of the harvest are finally here.

A flame haired woman sought to rest
upon a velvet chair