Hope Runs Strong

Hope runs strong in the heart broken,

yet searching the horizon,

believing in the healing

with a measure of success,

plundering

the kingdom of despair.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies 

Peace is Our Strength

Waves roll with white tops cresting,

tossed by the wind

and as I stand on the shore

I realize the real battle

is within each of us

and peace is our strength,

so tangible.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies 

Broken Light

I’m amazed at how we as broken people can carry

so much light within,

as if heaven pushed back

the grey clouds

destroying the hold,

the seduction of darkness

as if their healing

had already begun….

they become light bearing vessels.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Mystical Snowstorm

As I watch from the back of our a house, a mystical snowstorm embraces, engulfs the top of the mountain,

following the ridgeline, wind howling, raging into swirls, some sleet falling, tearing

at the bare limbs of the forest, and I wonder can there be any beauty in the middle of a storm?

Or should we expect the fire of an ancient prophet, or maybe visions of a flaming sword?

A few minutes later a quiet snow descends, reaching our neighborhood, as the wind moves softly now,

and God speaks, this time using the pine trees.

           

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: We can see the mountains from where we live. Storms begin there and move in our direction.

In Our Peace

In our peace, our eyes fill with visions of wordflow

drawing from beyond our ownselves attached,

connected seeking the eternal.

Poems or maybe prayers

without words shaping themselves

into a beauty

we can all understand.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Writing with the Winter Wind

I haven’t decided yet if I’m still a river, but in the winter I do seek to write, filled with the winter wind,

with a touch of sparkle glinting off the snow. I reach in, and out at the same time with at least a partial measure of spirit, or try to.

I find writing from the spirit to be more honest, shaping words from what we cannot see. Connecting.

I love writing, so thank you for reading my posts!

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Sunset of December

I was up high in the sunset of December

with shadows of tree limbs covering

and hawk wings flying over,

giving me a wild feeling untamed

yet I turned back to the valley

having surrendered, with dreams

of a hot cup of tea,

and My Love cooking

some spicy noodles.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Note: Sometimes small things are more beautiful.