Poetry Sunday ~ The Flow of Change

Prov. 24:21 “My son, fear thou the LORD and the king: and meddle not with them that are given to change:”

Flow of Change 

In a pool of standing water

There is no ripple to bear

In the running of the river

Seamless change fills the air.

Flowing forward flawlessly

The sediment staggers below

A rocky road emerges

To sever the seasoned flow.

If life is like a puddle

Silent silhouette to remain

Through the open window

Surges streaming pain.

If life whispers like a river

The tide of change will rise

Echoing in the morning wind

Released in dewdrop cries.

The year of change is colored

By departure of all sin

Behold the rampant glory

Emanating from deep within.

1 Cor. 15:51 “Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,”

Like A Flowing River

Like a Flowing River

*   *   *

My love is never-ending

My prayers they never cease

Like a flowing river

My God He gives me peace.

My mind is full of His word

My actions do resound

Like a flowing river

To Him my prayer is bound.

My soul is ever present

In all things that I do.

Like a flowing river

Through Him my essence grew.

My heart is steeped in His hands

My weakness evident.

Like a flowing river

He cleanses discontent.

My body begs for mercy

All sin to wash away.

Like a flowing river

I’m new with every day.

Pss. 19: 7 The law of the LORD is perfect, converting the soul: the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple.

 

 

The Pool...

Pss. 49:3 3 My mouth shall speak of wisdom; and the meditation of my heart shall be of understanding.
***

Writers call it the pool of words, some the pool of thought, any way you look at it, there is a metaphorical meaning behind... the pool.

Steven King made fictional use of this pool in Lisey’s Story. While Lisey and her deceased husband found the pool to be either a healing place, an imaginary portal that few could step through, or a burying place where the deceased lingered or passed into another realm, the pool existed in their minds, and apparently Manda bunny, Lisey’s sister.

In a form of reality, the pool exists within each and every one of us but often we get so caught up with our daily existence that we never take a dip. We stand back looking at the ripples, fear the plunge because the water appears too cold to be immersed in, or we just walk around the pool edges running our fingers across the top, so we can add to the ripples.

In the pool lies clarity. I love a pool that is ice blue, wrinkled with drips of sunshine embellishing the length and depth. A pool is so different from say an ocean or a river because of the clarity. (assuming you have the proper chemicals and filter to keep it clean.)

The ocean can be laden with crabs and such that keep you at a foots length from really diving in to feel the jellyfish wriggle between your legs. The river is equipped with many rocks and sharp edges that you always want to be wearing protective gear on your feet so they don’t get cut or bruised.

Then there’s the pool. The refreshing pool that sits with it’s wavering water, calling out to you to come in and drink from the beauty. You wade into the shallow end, perhaps slowly making your way to where the water almost crests the mouth then you feel yourself getting lighter and lighter and you float off to the deep end. I always like clinging to the side with my feet paddling behind me, a complete control experience.

Writer’s are metaphorical people. We like to swim, not dip in the pool! This is where we get our clarity, whether we are in the ocean of turmoil, the river of boulders, or the pool of sanity; we swallow all of the offerings and gulp down the intense feeling and bring forth a story of reliable prose.

We have a filter in our brain that allows us to see through the murky, algae infested waters and it is in this place...we listen. We block out all of the incoming thoughts, scrambled as they were and we decipher just what the universe is trying to tell us.

The pool is our meditative process, one that a lot of writer’s or people, rarely dip into, for unknown reasons. Why not dapple in the pool of silence and meditation? You’ll see... it's a clarifying experience.

Pss. 119:99 I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy testimonies are my meditation.

Poetry Sunday~ A River of Tears~

A River of Tears....
All rights reserved: copyright © Joni Zipp

I cry a river of tears'

swim in the empty abode set before me.

My silence is echoed by a resounding stillness

rippling downstream in caution,

as if someone were to hear my pleas.

He stoops at the river’s edge,

cupping hands...

to scoop my tears.

Cleansing His face with my pain.

Feeling my dormant presence,

He wishes to heal...

a river of tears

that is ceaseless in its journey,

streaming down my face.

He remains...to bathe in me...

to caress my glory and bring about a peace

to this ever flowing

river of tears.

I raise my head to see the sun

beginning to warm

my wrinkled body

as He wraps His love around me.

I become one with the glorious light,

enshrouding my being; I dry ~~~

no longer crying

a river of tears.
All rights reserved: copyright © Joni Zipp