But how
do you
give an
appetite
even
to my eyes?
-L.M.G.
Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
But how
do you
give an
appetite
even
to my eyes?
-L.M.G.
Grace is just a word
until you really
need it,
and
peace is just a sentiment,
until you
don’t have it.
I’ve been terrified
by things many
but nothing
has shaken me
like
how much
I love you.
You either
grow
flowers
or
weeds,
and you only
have so much
water.
I find it difficult
to write
poems of
spirit and faith —
a challenge
that surprises me,
for there are, truly,
few moments
more poetic
than casting my heart
onto the ground,
crying out to my Creator,
in desperate hope and distress,
for relief from the boulders
that burden me to the earth.
What do you carry in your heart but struggle to write about?
A poem is not a poem
if it doesn’t rhyme.
And a song isn’t music
if it’s out of time.
Language isn’t proper
if the grammar falls,
and a piece isn’t literature
until a publisher calls.
But, the listener laughs,
for he knows
that art is actually
full of shadows —
without rhythm
and without form,
art isn’t order
but, instead, a wild storm.
To burden word
with prescriptive rules
and to press down expression
as if a footstool
is to empty art
of its power,
to pluck to death
a vibrant flower.
____________________________
We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.
I can’t help
but to look
at you
and think
nothing has ever
looked better
on me.