This week THE SECRET KEEPER has given us five words to launch our poetry from. Those words are: | GHOST| ROUGH | DUST | STRANGE | TURN |.
I have chosen to use the “28”form for this work .
Turn
by JE Lillie
Rough ghosts of the past silence
Voices that would draw me on.
Strange that I should listen to
Dust rather than turn and change.
Our church administrator, Charlotte Dorais, is retiring at the end of the year. Today we are honoring her at our staff Christmas party. Charlotte has served in just about every ministry I have had oversight of through the years I have known her. Her love for Jesus has called her to take up posts outside her comfort zone many times. I just know that love for her God is going to lead her on to even greater adventures now.
She was one of my adult champions when I led the youth ministry (we called ourselves “the Beyonders”). She has worked as a shut-in visitor for the Compassion Ministry and as an artist manager for C.cada. She has been an untiring intercessor and a woman always willing to lend a hand in practical ministry. She is an incredible artist as well as an able administrator. Above all she is a committed friend.
Thank you Charlotte for your love for God and his church. I have written this two stanza Cinquain in your honor. It is entitled
Artist’s Soul
by JE Lillie
Artist’s
Soul, disciplined
By the brush of prayer.
Colors careful mixed until God
Brings forth
Artist’s
Strength, directed
Unafraid of future
Steps into the blank canvas called
His plan.
What Follows is a cinquain written in response to THE SECRET KEEPER’S WRITING PROMPT #14
The prompt words are
GENTLE | WANDER | TEASE | GAME | FORM |
Gentle One
By JE Lillie
Wander.
Tease my soul, Ghost.
Spend Your essence gaming
With my form. Touch my heart. Just be
Gentle.
It’s the sound of water
Lapping at the dock
As my daughter dangles
Her feet in the midnight blue
Of a summer lake.
Walden Pond
It’s a walk around the block
With my little dogs
And a grey rock
Steeple reaching for the blue heavens
On an autumn day.
Kylemore Abbey
As the moon sings
Her cyclic songs
Over all the world
I forget if only for now
That the world is loud.
It’s the swish of shovels.
Snow piled high,
Plows hold the world hostage.
And I am in
A season of rest.
This poem by Dale Stevens is shared with her permission for your encouragement.
Walking Hand In Hand
by Dale Stevens
Lord I want to hold your hand
Feeling safe, secure and loved.
Walking down this road of life
Not knowing where the road will lead
But trust you are working out
All the plans You have for me.
And if along the way I stumble
Your hand in mine will hold me tight.
And help me to remember,
It’s you and I together
Walking along this path of Life
Reflecting Divine
by JE Lillie
“Darkness stirs the deep.”
Weeps the world.
Argent fire splays across obsidian
Medians, right from left divides.
The sacrifice cries
“My God, my God…”
And then He dies.
Rise up you who would follow!
“Darkness stirs the deep.”
Weeps the world.
Oh salty light on a hillside
Bide your time no more.
Let the sleeper awaken
Taken by the final rising tide.
Renewal, revival expecting,
Reflecting Divine!
I walk along the water’s edge today
To frame the corners of a frayed day played out in time.
I taste the treacle of the honeysuckle
Bloomed too soon and given voice before anything is done.
A gaggle waddles up the banks.
The goslings following chew up the doddle left by know-better elders.
I hear their trumpet calls, “To action!” ,
“Beware!”, and “Hide yourself away!”
A swift turns, flickers above my head
And then is gone; Blended blue weds the rippled mirror.
I see echoes that do not last.
Eternity reveals itself in a flutter of wings skimming, leaving momentary forever trails.
The patient roar of an ancient fall
Kisses walls made by men with spray they meant to dam.
I savor the scent of ancient waters slick with the flavor of pollened grasses
A cinnamon greater than the smell humanity can erase.
The beaver slaps the water’s silence
brings to life my dalliance with the light. Darkness knows.
I feel the wind wrap His cloak about me
A welcome home to a prodigal son.
And somewhere in my sense memory I recall
There is a God.
C.cada Artists
C.cada (Cornerstone Christian artist’s day apart) was begun in an effort to give artists from every genre an opportunity to come together to discover, develop, and deploy their talents in ways that will better the church and the community.
Last month you will remember our group project was a writing challenge using the Bop form of poetry. A few months before we were challenged to write a piece of flash fiction from a prompt. Here are some of the results.
Deb Maciorowski
C.cada writing exercise in Poetry
The Bop
That Light
The end of the month is coming
If time could stand still
All could be accomplished.
I could earn more money
Maybe an oil change
Would smooth things out
Focus, focus, distracted by the light!
Hopeful that the light goes out
Call Bob to schedule
Next Wednesday at 6pm
Drive in, light still on
How long will it take?
Where will the money come from?
Keep on praying!
Focus, focus, distracted by the light!
Disconnected the wire
Light finally out!
Picked up, turn lights on and off
Left turn signal now the right
Failed inspection again- Drive out
Turn corner at stop sign—Nooooo! Not again!
Focus, focus, distracted by the light!
Sandy Freeman
CCADA writing prompt
“Ben’s Crossing”
“Poppy, just one more story, PLEASE!!!” Eliza pleaded.
“Alright, then it’s off to bed, agreed?” Poppy sternly stated masking his grin.
“Tell me the one about Christoff,” Eliza burst out, barely controlling her excitement.
“Let see, how does it go? Oh, yes,” Poppy closed his eyes as he stroked his goatee. “School was out promptly at 2p.m., Christoff sauntered off towards “Big-Ben”. It was October; the leaves were explosive with color as if splattered across a woody canvas. Christoff loved autumn; the air was breathable, not sticky with humidity but soothing scarcely requiring a sweatshirt. He adorned one about his waist; it helped hold up his weary jeans, frayed by the treading of his red canvas sneakers, one inevitably needing to be tied. This day particularly stood out for Christoff as he grew older, his heart would be perpetually changed; though he would not acquaint the transformation till years later at a once close friend’s funeral, Pastor Quinn.
Christoff and Sean became immediate friends upon their first meeting at church. They typically met at “Ben’s Crossing” after school. Now “Ben’s Crossing” was situated deep in the woods, a place where the explosive painting became somewhat smudged due to the obvious lack of sunrays. Here is where “Big-Ben” stood.
“Do you remember “Big-Ben” Eliza?” Poppy inquired.
“It’s only the biggest, gigantic old oak tree ever made by God!” Eliza exclaimed.
“Well I guess you have been listening to your old Pops after all,” Poppy grinned with a twinkle in his eyes. “Now where was I? Oh yes, “the race”.”
Usually they would spy each other from a distance; and then “the race” was on to see who could reach “Big-Ben” first. For some reason Christoff reached “Big-Ben” ahead of Sean.
Sean usually edged Christoff out by one-hundredth of a second. But this day Christoff had victory, he outran Sean for the first time ever. Christoff pranced around Sean like a proud peacock, unable to see the lack of expression on Sean’s face.
“CHRISTOFF, PLEASE STOP!” Sean squeaked.
Christoff immediately halted, “WHAT! Can’t a guy enjoy such a historic event?”
“My parents are getting a divorce!” Sean snapped out fighting back the tears welling up in his eyes.
Christoff stood dumbfounded not really knowing what to say or how to comfort his friend. Then Christoff remembered the theme at VBS last year, “Pray for a friend in need”.
“Let me pray for you?” Christoff said softly placing his hand delicately on Sean’s shoulder.
Sean nodded with an unspoken yes, as a tear streamed down his cheek.
Christoff spoke softly with his hand still upon Sean’s shoulder, “Dear Jesus, please help my friend and his parents, let them see you in each other and in their son, Sean. Oh, Jesus they need you! Amen!” Christoff raised his head, his jaw dropped.
“What?” Sean said puzzled by his friend’s expression. He heard the crunch of autumn leaves behind him. He turned…there stood Mr. Quinn, Sean’s father tears streaming from his eyes with outstretched arms.
Our next C.cada meeting is coming up on May 24th. If you would like more information about our organization check us out at
artistdayapart.com
This post was created for: A Word A Week Photography Challenge
http://suellewellyn2011.wordpress.com/2014/05/03/a-word-a-week-photograph-challenge-watch/
To see how others have interpreted the theme WATCH click on the above address.
“LOOKING
The world goes by, and what have I to do with it? I merely observe how the geese stretch their necks towards the orange rim of sky. I watch how light fades and children make their way home, hungry and tired. The bushes outside become ghosts while baths run and kitchen windows steam up with the cooking. This is the smell of our home, where I have a place in the wrinkled hours making beds and hugging boys awake. This is the sound of the house where I feel out lives into words, translate ragged nights and days into something whole, or try to. You may look if you wish….. The world goes by, and what have you or I to do with it, except perhaps for looking… ?”
― Jay Woodman, SPAN
We had 24 artists at this month’s collaborative meeting! Praise God!
If you are new to the C.cada scene here is our mission statement:
C.cada (Cornerstone Christian artist’s day apart) was begun in an effort to give artists from every genre an opportunity to come together to discover, develop, and deploy their talents in ways that will better the church and the community.
Yesterday we met, had breakfast then painted, wrote, played and carved away the morning. After lunch we met for a collaborative Bop session….That is we learned and practiced writing bop poetry. Here are some of our submissions:
Best Intentions
by Jill Poland
used by permission
Oh Glorious garden of beauty and peace
Suddenly decimated by an invasion of hungry pests.
All I wanted was to enjoy the fragrance.
All I needed was some rest.
Why does this always happen?
Why, oh why, did I allow those locusts in?
Never answer the phone on a Friday afternoon
I know God’s Garden is eternal,
But the destruction looks so real.
Oh I hate those lying vermin
Destroying my refuge.
Where did my pretty flowers go?
I must find the way out,
Out of the darkness and the lies.
I know my hope is true.
Never answer the phone on a Friday afternoon
I stop staring at the broken flowers
Mangled and left to die.
I sprinkle that dark shadowy place
With faith and hope and love.
With the lying shadows dispelled, my garden reappears!
My lovely peaceful garden that was always truly there!
Never answer the phone on a Friday afternoon.
Tares & Wheat
by Charlotte Dorais
used by permission
Green spikey leaves
Yellow flowers explode into puffs
Grass connected by roots
Flowerless but determined
Spreading beyond boarders
Over shadow petals of color
Uproot teardown destroy and overthrow
Brown tinged flowerless spikes
Erupt and march across
Tender young greens
Sweet succulent fodder
Encourage visitation
Tall slender stocks invade
Red white blue yellow and purple
Peak through
Uproot teardown destroy and overthrow
Kneeling digging bending
Pulling careless of stains
Black crescent nails
Breaking and splitting
Covering that which
Remains hidden
Uproot teardown destroy and overthrow
Lillie-Put 