Witness to His Salvation – 4th Sunday of Advent (Simeon’s Song)

This child I hold upon my knee
I’ve waited all my life to see.
God’s spirit, many years ago
told me I’d see His Christ, and so…
I’ve waited. Waited. Patiently

He’s come to set God’s people free
but how He does this may not be
what you expect, and you must know
for you: pain will accompany
this child I hold.

The Light to this dark world he’ll be
Ah Lord! Thank you for letting me
meet Jesus! Now Lord, let me go
unto my rest, for now you’ve shown
me who will save humanity:
This child I hold

Psalm Sunday – Psalm 8

Psalm 8 is probably my favourite of all of the Psalms. I love the night sky (especially on those rare occasions when I can get far enough away from light pollution to truly see it! This psalm always brings to mind the countless stars, and other astronomical wonders such as the Northern Lights.

However, as I meditated on this psalm in preparation to write this poem, verse 2 really caught my attention. The NIV (1985 edition) reads this way,

From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise because of your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger

This verse caused me to think about the wonder that children have in the world. Things that I take for granted, a child sees with wonder. I think it is probably easier for a child to praise God, because they can so clearly see the beauty in all that God as made!

The following poem is a Rondeau, and it is my thoughts on how children see the world


A child’s eyes are eyes that see
the world in all it’s majesty
a puddle’s worthy of the news
and life’s a mystr’y filled with clues
those eyes are awed so easily!

most adults, though, aren’t half so free
to see things as they’re meant to be
what is it, then, that makes us lose
a child’s eyes?

Lord, I confess, I’ve lost that glee
It faded from me by degree
from children, let me take my cues
so that my sight I’ll truly use!
Lord, once again, please grant to me
a child’s eyes

How long do we Remember?

Tomorrow (Nov.11), I will be attending a Remembrance Day service (along with thousands of others across this country and in many other countries around the globe. In Canada, the poem “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae is one part of the service. Please click on the poem title to read the original poem!

The purpose of Remembrance Day (Veteran’s Day in some countries)is to do exactly what the name suggests: Remember. Remember the men and women who sacrificed their lives on fields of battle so that you and I could enjoy the freedoms that we have today. Countless lives were lost in far too many bloody conflicts…but I live a life of freedom today because those men and women died for future generations. So for one day, we set aside a few moments to remember what our freedom cost.

In 2014, I wrote a poem to encourage my readers to remember throughout the year (and not just on November 11). I used the same poetic structure as McCrae used, and echoed some of his words as well. I hope that be re-posting my poem, you might be inspired to remember not just on November 11, but throughout the year: that your freedom did not come for free…

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
Is heard on each Remembrance Day
And on that day, with heads bowed low
We think of those who fought the foe
“We will remember”, we all say

Yet in that pose, we do not stay
And soon we turn and walk away
To let forgotten poppies blow
In Flanders Fields

Those young men died, so that today
In freedom we can work and play
They paid a hefty price, and so
Let’s not forget the debt we owe
To those who will forever stay
In Flanders Fields

Thy Kingdom Come

“Thy Kingdom Come” I humbly pray
and then I go about my day
forgetting all the words I’ve said
not trusting you for Daily Bread
but doing things in my own way

Oh Lord I must confess today
my actions oftentimes betray
that there are three words that I dread:
“Thy Kingdom Come”

When you say “black”, I argue “grey”
I promise things, but shift and sway
I find myself too oft misled
so Lord take these words from my head
and help me speak truth when I say
“Thy Kingdom Come!”

God sent his Son

God sent his Son so he could show
his love for us that we might know
that though we’ve failed him one and all
he will not leave us in sin’s thrall
but grace to us he would bestow

Death’s chains would pull us all below
to languish in Hell’s horrid glow
but He so loves us, though we fall
God sent his Son!

Instead, he wants for us to grow
and have eternal life,and so
He only asks for us to call
in faith to him – though faith be small
How do we know his love still flows?
God Sent his Son!


the above poem is my paraphrase of John 3:16. the poem is written in the Rondeau form.

NaPoWriMo Day 29 – When Eyes Are Closed

It’s been a while since I’ve tried my hand at a Rondeau, so here you go!  Sharing this at NaPoWriMo


When eyes are closed what do you see
do you imagine vividly
with colours crisp and sharp as glass
the reds of fire, the green of grass
each feathered leaf upon a tree?
Or is it more a mystery
the lines ablurr and colour-free
tell me what images amass
when eyes are closed?
Our images might not agree
I see a blob, you see a bee
my thoughts are colour-blind, alas
and oft times they’re a swirled morass
and focused they will never be
when eyes are closed.


I read an article a few days ago about a man with Aphantasia .  This is a condition that renders him unable to conjure up any mental images.  At all.  This got me to thinking about how we see things through our “mind’s eye”.  I discovered through this that when I close my eyes and try to imagine something, some images come in quite clear, some are quite undefined, but I cannot seem to bring colour into my imaginings.  I can understand and assume colour, but with my eyes closed, the images are grey-scale.  How do you see the world when you imagine?


NaPoWriMo Day 7 – A Letter From a College Kid to His Parents

The following is the type of letter I might have written to my parents back in my college days…if I had written poetry back then:

Dear Mom and Dad,

Please send me cash, I need a lot
it seems I’ve spent all that I’d got
and I would really like to go
out with my friends to see a show
’cause studying? I’d rather not!

My laundry’s piled in a spot
my room is smelling much like rot
I need to clean my clothes, and so
Please send me cash!

Those laundry quarters that I brought?
They went into the pinball slot
I spent them foolish, yes I know
You’ll find I’ve learned my lesson, though
Now please give this some serious thought:
Please send me cash

Your favourite son


the prompt at dVerse today is to write a poetic letter, and the propmt at napowrimo.net is to write about money. I wanted to combine the prompts, and so, logically, I thought back to my cash-strapped college days.

Ode to a Stuck Drawer

Oh stuck-fast drawer what do you hold
your treasures are as yet untold
I wonder what you hide from me
but you are stuck I cannot see
if you hold junk or coins enrolled

how many owners bought and sold
this desk that is so very old
with you stuck shut securely
oh stuck-fast drawer

To force you would be far too bold
I’d rather I give up and fold
although you never will be free
to show your dust or filigree
your mystery, to me is gold
oh stuck-fast drawer


written for writing201:poetry. This poem is written in rondeau form.

In Flanders Fields II – a new poem in response to the original

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
Is heard on each Remembrance Day
And on that day, with heads bowed low
We think of those who fought the foe
“We will remember”, we all say

Yet in that pose, we do not stay
And soon we turn and walk away
To let forgotten poppies blow
In Flanders Fields

Those young men died, so that today
In freedom we can work and play
They paid a hefty price, and so
Let’s not forget the debt we owe
To those who will forever stay
In Flanders Fields


The original poem was penned by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae in 1915, the day following the death of his friend, Alexis Helmer.

In Canada, his poem is read at Remembrance Day services (November 11) each year.  My poem was written in response to the fact that for one day out of each year, we take the time to reflect on the cost of our freedom, but for the rest of the year, we largely take that freedom for granted.  Note: both my poem, and McCrae’s are written in the rondeau form.

Here is McCrae’s original poem:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved: and now we lie
In Flanders fields!

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields


Originally posted November 4, shared with dVerse OLN on Nov. 29

Reluctant to Reveal

Over at dVerse, Marina Sofia has asked us to write poetry about identity. Although I can be quite outgoing with those whom I know, I do find it difficult to get to know new people. The following reveals a bit about my reluctance to reveal…


Beneath the trimmings, what would you see
would you look close, or would you flee?
a dan’grous thing, one’s soul to bare
for what if you don’t really care?
or what if you should laugh at me?

Maybe, I’ll show you, by degree
and hope some parts will cause you glee
but you will see some horrors there
beneath the trimmings

I’d love to show you, and be free
so you would know what makes me be
I’ll tell you now, though, to be fair
reveal myself? I do not dare!
you’ll have to earn my trust to see
beneath the trimmings