Transform Me

Your fingertips shaped Creation,
And what was good is perfect.
Intentional inspiration;
more than worthy of respect.

Extravagant your bestowing
Light, entity, a deluge of galaxies.
Meticulous Designer, fore-knowing
Scrutiny, query in life’s galleries.

Indulgent Father, I create anarchy
An unintentioned disposition
Still, you relinquish your love to me
Lavishly, at your own volition.

Reshape my miniscule soul?
World wearied, in disproportion
Transform me, mould me whole?
Pure. Like when you shaped Creation.

How She Prays

Orange skies and Lemoncello.
So clings the last vestige of day.
She’s supine, captured in yellow.
Cherry red lips parted.
Cloudless, open are the heavens,
Ear cocked to hear her prayer.
She’s wordless, emptied even,
Her contrition halted.
Tell her heaven hears her speaking,
No matter how quiet the sound.
Catch her before she’s weeping.
So the seeds are planted.

Headstrong

You miss me most when you’re craving
Your heart of discontent
And then you cry you’re worth saving
On this, i daily lament.

It hurts to see you head strong
When your heart is so very weak.
All sacrifice seems worthless. I long
For the prayer which you never speak.

All I ask is that you love me
I made grace so very easy for you
look away from your pained reverie
Trust my strength will see you through.

29.06.11

Silence

You’d think they’d quench the burn;
Silent rivulets of pain.
Dirty fingers wipe in turn
Each eye, mascara stained.

Breath, staccato beats a motto,
Echoes of the heart inside.
Whispered anthem for tomorrow,
Body braced to ride the tide.

What escapes faith bruised lips?
Sound more eloquent than words.
When the grasp on silence gently slips,
The soul still aches for what’s unheard.

Poem: Stay

‘Mighty you are’, they say
And how they revere your name
They lift their heads to heaven
Mine dips, with the heaviness of shame

I’ll sit aside and listen. But,
In holiness, did you say ‘compete’?
Chapter and verse escape me
For unworthiness nails me meek

I endeavour to catch just a glimpse
But I’m far too small to see,
Poised on the balls of my feet
Obscured by hands raised in front of me

I’d like to think that you would stay
Carry me, and heal my filthy heart
Could you touch such as me, so defiled?
I pray, ‘Please, stay while I fall apart’.

Romans 8:35 & Luke 7:36-50

Poem: Not

I’m just reviewing my recent poetry. And considering how, when I’ve only just started to write again, after a good year or so of being frozen… It’s pretty dark.

My moods fluctuate alarmingly, as you know, or can imagine, if you ‘know me’ – but, I didn’t realise how ‘dark’ I was.

I worry that I’ll be alone forever, tormented by men forever. Never to be … normal (I did struggle to use a different word just then) and I actually wonder what that would be… ‘normal?’ Everything is so far removed from what ‘normal’ was.

Anyway:

Poem: Not

Warm hands held on a cold night
The stinging hotness of a slap
This is not a picture of love.

Midnight whispers cheek to cheek
Voices raised, mouths wide
This is not the sound of love.

Funny how a smile can miss the eyes
But shards of malice can chip the heart
A blindfold made of water, a soul torn apart