Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts

Sunday, September 29, 2024

Palette or Palate





Grace is always within you

it is said...Hmmm...

I think grace is pink

which is why its hard to find

when all you see is red.


Love is not all crimson cupcakes

still, there is gratitude, 

warm and orange. 


Citrus can be sweet or sour,

it depends on more than taste.


Every word

a jagged cube of ice

to crush or to melt,

linger into nothing...


Yet nourishing

by experience,

like white or wisdom-


or the sun.

What do I know

of divinity-


But hell

and evil, is black 

Absence or All...


Diluting color

of meaning, when

Time is demanded.

Faith is ordered.

I taste metal,

or my own

blood

while

sensing my fragile

green mortality

All over.


Painting by Vincenzo Irolli (1860-1949), in Public domain, 'Young boy eating a watermelon' via Wikimedia Commons.

Saturday, October 15, 2022

Time heals




Heavy loads lighten

With deposits and discards

Along the way

The body seems to know


What to do

when cut, shattered, broken

Takes care

of itself, well


Wounds heal, eventually

Even the inside ones

May mend

If treated


Kindly, Rest,

Until ready

to move 

On each step carries

One-One

step further away


From the point

Of impact.

In tact 

You must keep 

walking from Then.


Lighter with Less.

Changed for Good.

Humbled with Life.

Graced by...


Painting by Carl Holsøe, c. 1881-1936 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Sunday, August 14, 2022

Basket case



What comes

After all?


So much

stacked

unbeknownst

we carry on


Or perhaps

Was it

Grace?


And then-

How much a

handbasket

Will hold

over so many 

seasons,

weather worn

by hand. 


Painting by Winslow Homer 'Girl Carrying a Basket' c. 1882 in National Gallery of Art, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Friday, May 26, 2017

Was


She cringes. They knew.

Didn’t say, wouldn’t change
nothing, anything
help or hurt

They wait, mercy resides
patience, temperance,
in these, out there
touch and feel
lost and found
not looking, not seeing,
not needing, not wanting
more than, merely
her presence, her past
come back…

Painting By Félicie Schneider (1831 - 1888) (Sotheby's New York, 29 January 2010, lot 867) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Tres (trace)

Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...