Fog In The Valleys

Rain, soft as dew

Bringing clouds to earth

Filling creek beds anew

Hoofbeats of rain

That break branches from trees

Wreaking havoc with traffic

Troubles come in threes

Heavy gray clouds

Lighten as they give way to mist

That become ghost masses

Suspended over water

Filling all space between peak and schist

© Sept. 10, 2015 by Aleta Kay

Children At Play–a new poem by me

Johnny and Judy got up one day,

The day started in the usual way;

They got up, got dressed, and went out to play.

Their mom called them for breakfast;

They sat down to pray—

They bowed their heads and closed their eyes,

But neither of them knew what to say.

Tribute to My Mother-in-Law

I was damaged and insecure;

I drew first blood, drawing to me the pain

That was sure to come.

A chip on each shoulder were my badges

She knocked them off, and loved me back.

What was this? I wondered.

How could she love me, a worthless lump?

Stubborn love I’d never known,

Christ in action through the love she’d shown,

A tenacious lady, full of grit and grace

Lovingly, firmly, put me in my place.

Sowing seeds of God’s mercy in my soul,

Through acts of kindness and tough love

She was a tool in God’s hands to mold me anew.

She’ll soon pass through those pearly gates,

Alive, and whole–a welcome home party awaits.

She will be greatly missed, but because of her,

I’ll her again some day.

What a glad reunion that will be.

The Agony and the Ecstasy

The story’s in my head

I know my protagonist

With all of his foibles and struggles,

But, oh, the agony of getting it all written down,

His history so rich, details must be doled,

How much in the beginning,

How much backstory to withhold?

I’ll get it right; I know I will

Someday, if I don’t die before,

It will all make sense; I’ll get it out,

And the ecstasy will be

When reading the book

The reader comes to the end,

And proclaims, “It was great!”

Double Petunia

I heard this poem a long time ago and it has stuck with me. It’s just something fun to read. I have no idea who wrote it.

Petunia is a flower like begonia;

Begonia is a meat you eat with salt;

A salt and battery is a crime;

Monkeys crime trees;

Tree’s a crowd;

A rooster crowd and made  a noise;

The noise is on your face like eyes;

The eyes is opposite the nays.

A horse neighs. A horse has a colt;

You catch a colt–

And wake up with double petunia.

Drowning: A Poem

My house, my life are a mess,

And so to my old self I regress,

Back to reading and playing,

And TV watching, I’m just saying

I’m overwhelmed, I must sit down,

So much to do, I fear I’ll drown

With e-mail, Facebook and blog,

Aimlessly wandering through the fog,

My writing, Tumblr, and Twitter,

Promote my work, I’m all in a flitter,

Somehow I suppose I’ll muddle through,

But Lord, where in all this, do I fit You?

The Sad and Homely Man

He was a sad, homely man

With no redeeming physical features

The hungry, the sick, the lame, and handicapped,

All followed him to receive whatever he could give;

He fed the hungry, healed the sick, cured the lame

and infirm, and gave sanity to the insane.

He even raised the dead! All of his worldly

possessions were the clothes he wore, no place

even to lay his head, except when he visited friends.

The penalty for his goodness was a cat-o-nine-tails,

laid cruelly across his back thirty-nine times;

a crown of thorns thrust upon his head, a nail to

pierce each hand and his crossed feet; his beard

was plucked while he was blindfolded, spat upon,

and punched in the face; all done by hands he

had healed or fed. He was mocked and scorned

by those he had loved, as he hung there naked,

humiliated, and abandoned by his friends. His

final answer was not retribution; it was,

“Father, fogive them, for they don’t understand

what they are doing.”

What is your answer to Jesus?