Publishing a poetry book and chose this poem to be in it! Wish me luck, friends! :")

I stepped outside,
Felt the slap of winter’s
Icy breath
And stood beneath
The rain-soaked pines

Drops dripped

I looked up, fists clenched
And felt a wet ceiling above
A great ice wall betwixt me
And the sky
Unleashing and spitting upon me

Drops dripped

The Lord had taken my joy
I said
Had swept my feet from under
Like a scythe at harvest
My precious things in their
Full bloom,
Their life and blood on the earth

Drops dripped

The grace of God I find sweet
Yet sweeter still, and more meet
Is His sovereignty;
Lending greatest peace

Of God I know not much
In comparison, though such
A vast deal is left to be learnt
Still I know enough

Bury not beneath pride
And to the world be not tied
Nor find heart and soul in rust
But in Him, your trust

These simple truths I ache to learn
Though not for a crown to earn
But to honor One whom I love
And see Him above

The Hollow

I’m caught once again betwixt two beacons’ glow
No, rather two sirens beseeching my ear
They beckon me unto them; juts ‘neath the flow
Do threaten to tear me asunder with fear

Their voices do battle, each other o’er me
Each claims theirs the sweeter, theirs honey that’s pure
Their rage caused the boiling, the thrashing, the sea
So wrathful my safe return I can’t be sure

I gazed upon the sky above
Lost in thoughts of life and love
I missed the moon in darkness’ depths
But saw a shooting star instead

I sat, waiting for moon’s face to appear
But alas no friend to me was near
And yet the stars still smiled down
Like company, the silence crowned

And darkness covered me like a mask
Covering me like the smile I daily taxed
While still no moon made the quiet speak
My eyes overflowed and flooded my cheeks

Her ponytail
Once strong and tall
Was already drooping
And starting to fall.

Her tired rear end
Had stopped aching.
Now it was numb
The hours kept taking.

But still, she wrote.

Her busy mind
Was full of thoughts.
Her fingers flew
To weave the plot.

Her characters
Were growing tired.
They thought they'd lost
But she was inspired.

And still, she wrote.

Her alarm clock
Rang the time.
The time to get up
And join the grind.

Publishing a poetry book and chose this poem to be in it! Wish me luck, friends! :")

In the morning I hear a song
It plays so faintly, in my head
It starts while I am yet dreaming
Stretched upon my morning bed
But as the day goes by it grows
And I begin to hum along
For though it is a catchy tune
My heart remembers not the song
But quickly in the afternoon
I pick out the words, here and there
Til dinner comes with fork and spoon
And I am singing, unaware
So by the time I’m off for bed
I’m belting out a wordy song
An anthem of blessed thankfulness
As heartfelt as the day is long

We rode along in our long, dark blue van, my siblings and me squished and cramped between brightly colored bags, pillows, and blankets! Yet, despite the lack of personal space, we all we glad to be there, pearing out the windows, gazing up at the wondrous mountains of Yellowstone National Park. Patches of snow scattered about their green and brown surfaces, and tears came to my eyes at the beauty of my Creator.

The sylven waste lies cold, no sound it makes
In stony vales, seems light hath found no stay
Then dawn with rosy-colored fingers breaks
Upon a land ‘fore dipped in hazy gray

Then stabs the pinks, the reds, colors of dawn
As expert warriors sparring in a fight
Oh Birds! Oh light! Oh dawn! The morn doth yawn
And rise to chase away the ink of night

And on this field of battle comes the sun
That fire of fires, pure seed of purest heat
To look upon a story, ceaseless spun
And leap from day to day new worlds to greet