There were days I allowed my thoughts
to swirl about like late autumn leaves,
as if winter's children on their heels,
faded red and gold's captured
imprisoned in cold little hands,
my meditations, a part of that circle,
the weakest link;
seasons of my mind going round and round.
Desperate for the icy notes of their dirge
to melt into a meadowlark's song,
each note kissed by warm breezes,
and on soprano wings, flies over green meadows
and gentle streams,
come to rest and reflect by their quiet banks.
Not moved when summer's own,
rises up like mercury,
to face me in the battle's heat;
holding thoughts together, I come not apart though it may seem;
remembering where I am planted, in the richest soil, God alone has mixed;
one part, His Son Jesus' cross,
to all of humankind's worthless dust;
I, one the wildflowers transplanted into His garden,
and on this, and only this,
shall I allow myself to meditate.
A contest entry
- God's Canvas... by PrabhuDayal Khattar.
300 points, ended July 23, 2008, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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why not..to me you have started it..your poetic journey itself is the proof of your meditation my friend....well done and my thanks for entering my contest...
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This is oh so true.
We are here to make life as lovely as we can for our selfes and all of the others around. If we keep making things of beauty, then the ugly can not be found...mac
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A very discriptive and suttle poem. Loved the thought process you have and the line "in the richest soil, God alone has mixed;one part, His Son Jesus' cross,"
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excellent
Desperate for the icy notes of their dirge
to melt into a meadowlark's song,
each note kissed by warm breezes,
and on soprano wings, flies over green meadows
and gentle streams,
come to rest and reflect by their quiet banks.
Nice words and great emotions.You really wrote breathless poetry in this. i enjoyed it fully.Thanks for sharing.Please visit some of my poetry and offer comments.
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This is a particularly evocative and descriptive write and indeed you do paint a picture on the canvas of the earth about us. I like the imagery you use here, particularly of the wild flowers, that is what we sometimes are, wild unless guided by whatever. Technically you may want to think about adjusting some of your line lengths, they appear in places to be somewhat overlong and mar the flow, and I know I'm being nitpicky - sorry - but I felt the line beginning 'desperate I was' was a tad archaic and not in keeping with the rest of what was, overall, quite an impressive and deeply felt write. Thanks for sharing.
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