The Sea of Stone

In the sea of stone
What do you dread?
Is it fear of life, or
Fear of the dead?

In the sea of stone
There lie the shells,
Remnants of life,
Once living cells.

In the sea of stone,
There’s still hope for life,
Everlasting to everlasting
With our risen Christ.

At the sea of stone
Give thanks for their breath,
For the memory of love
Uncancelled by death.

At the sea of stone
Fear not the dead,
Cherish the peace,
Rejoice, instead.

Source of Inspiration for The Sea of Stone
Halloween was Saturday night, and the day after was All Saints Day, which is traditionally celebrated by Christians the first weekend in November each year. In his sermon, the minister, Rev. Tim Smiley, spoke of the old country churches and the tradition of placing the cemetery next to the church to include the departed loved ones or “saints” with the living encompassing the family of God. Visions of the cemetery full of love for the ones buried there inspired this poem. Published in Whispers of The Wind, The International Library of Poetry.

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Creatures of Love

“Butterflies are free,” my Mom said to me.
Their beauty and grace were put on this place
To dance on the air and enchant our space
In time.  And then these creatures of beauty and love
Transcend to a level so far above
Leaving only the memory of beauty and love.

Source of Inspiration for Creatures of Love
After I returned home to Florida following my Mom’s funeral, I was standing in the garden watering my babies (my plants) when a beautiful zebra butterfly dance by my head.  I began to recall all of the butterflies I encountered as I packed up my Mother’s things.  There were butterfly pictures, butterfly figurines, a butterfly scarf, even her wall paper had butterflies.

As I watched the zebra butterfly dance around my head, I suddenly felt my Mom’s presence.  She was dancing on the air as she had not been able to do in her wheelchair.  She was free to dance at last!  And she was there to tell me it was “Ok”, and that she would always be there for me.

Then the poetic words of “Creatures of Love” filled my head.  I put the words on paper, using this poem in my thank-you notes to the kind people who sent their condolences.  Surprisingly, I had numerous people to call to comment on the poem.  This was also my first published poem, published in the book, Surrounded By Dreams, The National Library of Poetry. 1998.

God’s Perfect Dance

Our love, a destiny, not by chance.
We love as one, God’s perfect dance.
Step by step, life’s rhythmed pace,
Ours souls in sync, ignite by grace.
Staccato the music, each step, each day,
In harmony and love our bodies sway.
Seconds fly, a year yet gone.
Still the dance goes on and on.
Dance with me ever, dip and twirl,
Past the moon and stars, and out of this world.

Source of Inspiration for God’s Perfect Dance
On the occasion of our 30th wedding anniversary, I awoke at 2:00 AM.  Unable to resume sleeping, I stumbled to my computer and began to “pen” this poem.  I wrote this as a gift to my husband, my hero, my champion, the one who has always encouraged me to reach higher.  

Then on the occasion of our younger son’s wedding, a young, very talented minister friend of mine, David Luna, put this poem to music, composing it in a Baroque style for piano and flute.  It was then sung by my friend and singer/composer, Brian Leeser, for my son’s wedding.

God’s Perfect Dance was featured in the Best Poems and Poets of 2003, and received the Editor’s Choice Award.

Dyslexia

My brain is clever, smart, and wise,
But it scrambles words;
Thoughts elude the memory bank.
My demise, the eyes,
So weak and slow,
Delude the mind.
Letters dance a charming
Gait across the page and preclude
The sweet accord,
Thus alarming the senses.
Frustration exudes!

Source of Inspiration for Dyslexia
“Dyslexia” may be a strange poem for a book entitled “Labours of Love”.  However, this malady, which I was diagnosed with as a senior in college, turns normal tasks into labours of love.  What a relief it was to learn there was a reason why I many times did not perform to the level of my classmates when I knew I was just as capable.  I never allowed my dyslexic son to use dyslexia as an excuse not to perform to the best of one’s ability.  It might be a daunting task, but the end results are worth the effort.  Therefore, I dedicate this to my son, Heath, a dyslexic who graduated with a PhD in Psychology and an MBA, and is head of the Primary Care Unit in a VA hospital in Florida.  His achievements have been a great source of pride and inspiration to me.  We can do it, huh, Kid!
Dyslexia was published in Labours of Love, Noble House, London, 2005.

Texas Sundown

Coral fingers tickle blue, gone purple.
Moments flee; the fingers pale, then retire.
Vast power fading, intense light heightens
The hues of dusk, grasping for lost moments
Of the day.  No beauty is held in time.

Source of Inspiration for Texas Sundown
I try most evenings to slow down to enjoy a gift from our Creator.  Sundown, the daily, one-of-a-kind display of power and color never cease to awe and amaze me.  When asked once how I came up with the color palette for my Florida home of corals and purples, I admitted that it was not an original concept rather an inspiration from the “ultimate decorator”.  
Texas Sundown was published in The Best Poems and Poets of 2004.

A Fisherman’s Affair

The saucy sun shimmied and danced on the sea,
Glistened, and teased, and beckoned to me.
Come, my friend, you know you want more.
You’ll not sate desire if you stand on the shore.

The Lady, the sea, sent her winds after me,
Haunting and howling her endless plea.
Come play with me and I’ll grant your wish.
I’ll calm the waters; the trade winds I’ll hush.

You know what I want, Lass, there’s no need to wish,
To go several rounds with a great fighting fish.
Strapped to the chair, feet planted in the stirrups,
We’ll wrestle past hours ‘til one of us gives up.

No sooner the thought gushed from my mind
Than a great fish jumped up and ran with my line!
A fighter he was, indeed he was fierce.
We fought ’til my muscles, taut, brought me to tears.

A victory I sport o’er this denizen of the deep,
And my Lady once more entices me to keep
Our rendezvous in this paradise of blue
To dance in the sun while the wind moans and coos.