For What is Faith?

The prompt for PAD Day 24 was “faith” . The day before I had just posted the following quote while hashtagging on twitter

 

“…you don’t have to understand things for them to be.” – from A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle

faith

September, 2016

 

For What is Faith?

I find myself questioning without doubting
Not understanding but believing
For what is faith?

The substance of things hoped for
Even when my mind is perplexed
My heart is pierced with truth

The evidence of things not seen but sure
Indications and manifestations to hold me
To keep me on the way

Hope, that thing with feathers
Faith fluttering as a breeze
Mystifying yet dependable

PAD Day 23’s prompt was “Last…”.

The Last to Know

She never heard the whispers whirling around her
In smug puffs of jealousy
She didn’t see the averted eyes of the savvy

Walking in confidence and innocence, she
Did not notice the growing gap
Did not feel the frostiness creep in

She was the last to know

 

 

I found my poem from PAD Day 23, 2013. You can read it below.

 

Music of the World

The music of the woods
Is not just a bird song
It’s the beat of the brook
The harmony of wind and leaf
A twig, a scamper, layers

The music of the ocean
Is not just the cry of the gulls
It’s the crash of the waves
The melody of wind and water
A splash, a scrape, laughter

The music of the snow
It’s not just the hoot of the owl
It’s the patter of flakes
The rhythm of wind and white
A crunch, cold, whispers

The music of the world
Is not just a song, a cry, a hoot
It’s beating, crashing, pattering
It’s melody, harmony, and rhythm
Love, peace, it’s God’s creation

Inside the Object

PAD Day 21 was to write about an object. So many of us confuse the church building with the one true church. I didn’t give this poem a title (yet), but I was think of the building that houses the church.

church-mountain-church-landscape-nature-158043

photo- pexels.com

 

This building with its multicolored panes
That tell the stories of the saints of old
The highly polished wooden pews that creak
These pews that hold the sheep within the fold

This structure built upon a little hill
Though humble brick, within a message bold
Is spoken there for all who come to hear
The sweetest story that has e’er been told

This house of worship gathers saints who sing
Clear voices lifted up, God is extolled
Melodious and reverent the refrain
Amazing grace abounds in this stronghold

Somewhere

w1

April-2014 Jacksonville, Florida

Somewhere
Is this system of minutes and hours
In the pattern of vacuuming
And the stacking of dishes
Help me to find my way

Somewhere in this system of work and play
May I not just see the alignment of bricks
And the traffic outside my window
But sad eyes that need a smile
Slumped shoulders that need a touch

Somewhere
In this system of sharps and flats,
Sweet notes and sorrowful,
May I find melody note by note
And harmony day by day

 

The PAD prompt for today was _____ System.

I Can’t Even With You

canteven

Today’s PAD Challenge was to choose a well known phrase as a title. Here goes!

I Can’t Even With You

This poem will be a bit facetious
A bit about aposiopesis
It use to be all about that bass
But now that woofer’s been replaced

I can’t even with you
I don’t even have a clue
I’m just shakin’ my head
I’ll just odd with you instead

When she’s using aposiopesis
Seems to me to be a little specious
On those days she can’t even with you
It sounds like a false hullabaloo

I can’t even with you
I don’t even have a clue
Maybe you should just go girl
Maybe just give it a whirl

Cessation of brain activity
Makes for a little festivity
When she tells me I can’t even
It’s not something I believe in

I can’t even with you
I don’t even have a clue
I’m just shakin’ my head
Let’s just leave it unsaid

“It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain” – from A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry

Today’s PAD challenge was to write a poem about family

 

3 g

Can’t Separate

Can’t separate me from the past
my grandfather’s desertion
my grandmother’s tenacity
the stories told and retold
by the aunts who remember

Can’t separate me from my childhood
Dad’s bellowing and invented words
Mom’s steadfastness and silly jokes
brothers by my side, happy or not
supper in the kitchen every night

Can’t separate me from those cousins
who made paper dolls for me
we swam and skated and pretended
and whispered into the night
those first and forever friends

Can’t separate me from my husband
who made a new family with me
who grew and stumbled by my side
the one who really knows me
and loves me anyway

Can’t separate me from my offspring
flesh of my flesh who look like their dad
my babies grown up too soon
across state lines and time zones
in joy and sorrow, mine

Can’t separate me from this next generation
the little ones who let me love on them
these two with bits of me inside
this hope for the future
this family of mine