Saturday, December 4

Advent

      The Second Sunday in Advent.


More light.

Advent

   Saturday Fourth Day of Advent.


Nature's painting
Frosting on ferns.
Looking for the good in the cold.

Friday, December 3

Advent

                                     Friday third day in Advent.


"I saw three ships come sailing in...."

Thursday, December 2

A poem for Thursday.

The cold weather reminds me of altercations between me and my beloved at times!

The Argument

Nothing is said.
silence rains
it freezes
it snows.
an iceberg forms
that blocks all warmth
no kindly words.

Advent

                                 Thursday second day in Advent.


Ready to go fellows...so where are those men with the pressies and do they know which star it is we're supposed to be following?

Wednesday, December 1

Advent

                                         Wednesday 1st December
                                                    Advent 1.



Well with the weather as it is I think a nice hot cup of chocolate is in order!

Sunday, November 28

The Poetry Bus

The Poetry Bus contribution.

I've been mulling over the suggestions this week. This thing about arguing with God...I do it most days! But then I agree with him most days also, it depends on the subject or the person etc.
So I  want to combine the first about arguing with God and the third about the bare trees. Because the trees don't stay bare for ever, but like us they need a little snooze to get their energies back!

This is a poem taken from the book ,The Song Of Songs .


The Garden

Once I had a garden in the summer.
Sun and rain caressed it soft and warm.
People came to wonder at the beauty.
Praised the gardener tending it each day.


 And the south wind blew upon my garden so fair.
And the scent of the spices flowed out.


Once I had a garden in the autumn.
Golden was the colour all around.
Yet the very beauty was deceptive.
For the gardener's fire soon had it burned.

And the north wind blew upon my garden so fair.
And the scent of the spices flowed out.


Winter time descended on my garden.
Tightly bound the beauty of the flowers.
Still and grey and lonely in the bareness.
Had the faithful gardener gone away?


And the north wind blew upon my garden so fair.
And the scent of the spices flowed out.


Once I had a garden in the spring time.
Innocense portrayed in every part.
For the gardener never could forsake it.
And I confess the garden is my heart.


And the south wind blew upon my garden so fair.
And the scent of the spices flowed out.