Ode to KAREN, who LIGHTS up a Room
Surrender did she to God and Eternity
Granted did He her un-silent plea.
For she is here with children so dear
And it reminds me to be grateful of her this year!
As thoughts of verse enter my mind
I attempt to describe her in kind!
The poem that follows is of the heart
New beginnings; great places to start!
Golden starlight captured in a jar
Would pale beside the sun you are.
Giving sparkle, thoughtfulness and cheer
Your brilliance refreshes all who are near.
Noting earth time freckled with polarity
Using strife to bring more clarity
Growth continues to inspire
Yet still, struggles lead her Spirit Higher.
With so much grace upon her face
Does she pray to find her place.
Friends and Family marvel at her wit
And wonder would strife find us so fit?
Baffled and confused are we
Who use your light to see
When dusk descends upon your brow
What sentiments will babes feel now?
Luckily for all within your sphere
Clouds or darkness do not stay near.
Angels and Saints clamor around
Keeping your feet lightly on the ground!
Copyright Maria Terese Carmichael 2010
Friday, January 30, 2015
Winter Solstice
The morning was a frosty, silvery blue,
Even the sun could not shine with a golden hue.
It's orb silhouetted under silvery sky
The ghostly light it did cast within the clouds so high.
Sugary clumps of powdered snow
Clung to rooftops, trees and branches below.
Hushed admiration in commuters hearts
Reminds me how our day should start.
Godly connections with gratitude.
For we are never completely in solitude.
Within us all is God similarly
To realize we are all one big family.
But within my surname is a link
An embryonic family when time did blink.
I am reminded this New Year.
Of all of them who are so dear.
I do especially remember one.
Whose illness may have affected the sum.
She's better now and all so good.
Because her struggles are understood.
The morning was a frosty, silvery blue,
Even the sun could not shine with a golden hue.
It's orb silhouetted under silvery sky
The ghostly light it did cast within the clouds so high.
Sugary clumps of powdered snow
Clung to rooftops, trees and branches below.
Hushed admiration in commuters hearts
Reminds me how our day should start.
Godly connections with gratitude.
For we are never completely in solitude.
Within us all is God similarly
To realize we are all one big family.
But within my surname is a link
An embryonic family when time did blink.
I am reminded this New Year.
Of all of them who are so dear.
I do especially remember one.
Whose illness may have affected the sum.
She's better now and all so good.
Because her struggles are understood.
Surrender did she to God and Eternity
Granted did He her un-silent plea.
For she is here with children so dear
And it reminds me to be grateful of her this year!
Copyright Maria T. Carmichael DeSalvo 2010
Vernal Equinox 2014
Where shall I go to hear such deep night sound where I can at once be safe and snug and near to sleep? Have not I appreciated such majestic beauty knowing that the country sounds made in these gentle hills are eternal here. The wooded horizon straight ahead of me is where the sky meets earth lined with the soft brown silhouettes of awakening trees that barely hint of burgeoning spring. So very shortly they will seem to scream their arrival of flowers like colored lace. Hark I hear the calling sounds of nocturnal creatures I can only imagine, celebrating a seasonal awakening and an instinct to create on this midnight evening. The streams are echoing with the mating sounds of amphibious life forms. And I sit perched, enthralled, fortunate and completely spellbound listening to the sounds of a vernal equinox's silence.
Yet as the opaque moonlight deepens it's ethereal glow, it is difficult to let go of this ephemeral moment. A season, a place so dearly cherished so deeply acknowledged it has become a part of me, etched it is upon my soul forever. This softly veiled evening of magic will halt when my eyelids flicker into heaviness, so I listen enchantingly haunted by a fear that there may not be an encore.
Dreams of Pennsylvania farmlands with old red barns steeped in German designs echoing travelers from the past. Undulating hills lined with serpentine stone walls and even larger red barns of old wood topped with copper weathervanes whose emptiness and disuse encourage wild turkey vultures to nest within. Envisioning huge stone hearths centuries old strung with cast iron chains suspending black cauldrons over leaping orange flames. Imagining it once had held wild venison stew scenting the air with spicy warmth. Punctuated with birdsong as the awakening fields lace the air with loaminess and all the living creatures that inhabit this magical place intoxicated by the spell of spring and overjoyed that the soon to burgeon trees shall offer their plentiful gifts to all who will see and hear the glory of God.
Where shall I go to hear such deep night sound where I can at once be safe and snug and near to sleep? Have not I appreciated such majestic beauty knowing that the country sounds made in these gentle hills are eternal here. The wooded horizon straight ahead of me is where the sky meets earth lined with the soft brown silhouettes of awakening trees that barely hint of burgeoning spring. So very shortly they will seem to scream their arrival of flowers like colored lace. Hark I hear the calling sounds of nocturnal creatures I can only imagine, celebrating a seasonal awakening and an instinct to create on this midnight evening. The streams are echoing with the mating sounds of amphibious life forms. And I sit perched, enthralled, fortunate and completely spellbound listening to the sounds of a vernal equinox's silence.
Yet as the opaque moonlight deepens it's ethereal glow, it is difficult to let go of this ephemeral moment. A season, a place so dearly cherished so deeply acknowledged it has become a part of me, etched it is upon my soul forever. This softly veiled evening of magic will halt when my eyelids flicker into heaviness, so I listen enchantingly haunted by a fear that there may not be an encore.
Dreams of Pennsylvania farmlands with old red barns steeped in German designs echoing travelers from the past. Undulating hills lined with serpentine stone walls and even larger red barns of old wood topped with copper weathervanes whose emptiness and disuse encourage wild turkey vultures to nest within. Envisioning huge stone hearths centuries old strung with cast iron chains suspending black cauldrons over leaping orange flames. Imagining it once had held wild venison stew scenting the air with spicy warmth. Punctuated with birdsong as the awakening fields lace the air with loaminess and all the living creatures that inhabit this magical place intoxicated by the spell of spring and overjoyed that the soon to burgeon trees shall offer their plentiful gifts to all who will see and hear the glory of God.
Chrystal Silken Strands
CHRIST-EL SILKEN STRANDS
Floating down a sea of Rapture
Memories and Desires
Past and Present
Weave as One.
.
Slipping out of body
Where all is distant
And Space feels free
I'm nestled in waves of Ecstasy.
Transported to a gauzy cavern
Where temporal sentinels Grand
Are about me like God's Hand
Ailments vanish I'm aware
Of being a body made of air.
Not ready to relinquish
A place so sublime
I languish with Divinity
While I drink Universal Mind.
Aware of this other dimension
Whilst my body's in its bed
Surrounded by crystals
Placed around my head.
My higher form as ether now
Helps my slumbering one
Ensconced in cotton covers
This snowy January morn.
Enjoying luminous strands of color
Soft winds of movement
Carry me to a hidden dimension
Woven between the snowflakes.
Alas I'm ready to alight
From this wondrous magical flight
Luminosity rekindled within
I look out the paned window.
Snowflakes dreamily aloft
Begin to slow, light appears
To ponder the mystical frost
As the storm billows by.
copyright © 2015 Maria T. Carmichael DeSalvo (1/30/15)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)