Daily Restoration

A good “Monday” poem, perhaps 🙂


Each day’s a new start

Even if we have to drag

Strained souls to altar

For there the Lord restores us

His Presence clothed in praises

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

“But thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel.” Psalm 22:3, King James Bible

Sunday Songs ~ I Will Wait

Welcome to Sunday Songs, better late than never🙂

I have 2 songs for you today.  “I Will Wait” spoke to me specifically, as I’ve found it difficult to “wait out” a season of continuing personal challenges.  And I’m certainly no “lone ranger”everyone around the globe is growing weary of the daily impact of Covid-19.  Faith in God is essential, as we hold on to hope of better days ahead.

“The Father’s House” is a wonderfully comforting song, a gift from my dearest sister-friend.  God does not ask for perfection, only our hearts—what a tremendous relief, since perfection eludes me no matter my fervent efforts!

Hope you enjoy the songs.  May each of you feel the warm embrace of our Loving Father God, and experience His blessings this weekRhen


Plants and Landlady

Depression’s noxious air

Endangers house plants

One leaf’s shriveled

Several more lie limp

Listless, touch of ennui…

Owner’s in charge

Owes mutual obligation

To provide nurturing

Environment…but as

Caregivers go, perhaps

Grace is due, spare her

Stern censure

For the real world’s out

Of balance, has run amok

Turned inside down

It’s difficult enough to

Shore up the virtual

Globe, keep its gears

Well oiled, clicking…

The plants, after all

Have basic necessities

Good soil, summer light

Words of praise with

Water, music playing

Throughout the night

And they get relocated


(Luxury owner lacks)

Truth is, they’re of hardy

Bent… like landlady who

Doesn’t charge them rent

Image & Text: ©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.








Semi-Conscious Fugitive

Breathing Shallow Poetry

Prompt: Image and quotation:

“You don’t need to know what you’re escaping from to become a fugitive.” ― Bella Pollen, Midnight Cactus


Night, day, everyday, she was running; running from silhouettes, sounds, blurring images from kaleidoscopic Yesterdays with their harsh voices, impossible expectations.  She was lost in a semi-conscious tunnel, looking for a splinter of light, and realizing she was blind, groping for something like an exit because she could not stop moving.

There’s no place to hide in your mind.  It’s a continuously winding labyrinth that echoes loudly, preventing sleep; no way to know if you’re awake or in an unrelenting timeless nightmare.  She wanted to die, yearned for everything to stop.  Was she crying, she couldn’t tell if there were tears on her cheeks.  Perhaps she should pray again, those pathetic begging prayers which probably insulted the Almighty while searing her with shame.

She felt the bullet strike, impact of…

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Fabric of Life, Bedelia’s Wake-Up Call

Prompt: Fabric

Bedelia woke from a horrible, if possibly nonsensical nightmare in which—having agreed to see Finn Canter again—she’d opened her closet to discover ALL of her wardrobe was devoured by moths.

Trembling, she rushed from bed to investigate, trying to slow her breathing and pulse as she raked her hand through the hangers draped with old but serviceable garments…relieved, she saw not one lonely moth fluttering, nor any readily apparent damage.

A bit wobbly yet, she went to her kitchen, took her morning meds with Diet Coke, and sat down at the dining table…where she noticed the cotton place mat was worn, threads coming loose, the fabric more faded than yesterday.

‘Yesterday’, she pondered, tears filling her eyes…Yesterday was certainly faded and worn, a feast for ravenous moths.

The ‘still small voice’ of God was attempting to get her attention:  it wasn’t too late to have the “abundant life”, but she needed to seriously consider what that meant to her—what she wanted before the hourglass sands ran out; the choice was hers, His Light was available.

She reached for her Bible, opened it to Jeremiah 29:11, “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the LORD. ‘They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope'”. (New Living Translation)

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.


Mad Affair with Moon (Limerick)

Prompt: Mad

Much as I applaud her beauty, Moon can drive me mad

And leave me lachrymose, despairing, oh so very sad…

But as a poet, I’m drawn to her penultimate allure

Compelled, yearning, piteous, begging silver’d tincture…

Thus, soonest she’s filled to brim, finished thrashing my mortal soul—I’m glad.

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.


Daily Light #103 ~ Place of Refuge

Psalm 142:1-3, 5

I cry out to the LORD;

I plead for the LORD’s mercy.

I pour out my complaints before him

and tell him all my troubles.

When I am overwhelmed,

you alone know the way I should turn.

Then I pray to you, O LORD.

I say, “You are my place of refuge.

You are all I really want in life.


“Sensible people keep their eyes glued on wisdom ~”

Proverbs 17:24

Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.  Bible Hub


I didn’t sign up for ageing

I’m not obliged to do it gracefully

Pair of ruby slippers might have helped…

I’ll have done well enough, I think

If, with the Good Lord’s patient help

I don’t flounder badly, sink🙂

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.





Despair, Hope’s Triumph

To my Readers:  I may be slow in getting caught up with your posts, but don’t despair, I’ll be back🙂

Eyes which Despair dims

Wear dearth of excitement

Glimpsing life, they glide past

Least observation of joy, for

Hope’s viewed as suspect

Excursion, an illegal substance

Too foolishly imbibed

Worry becomes safer, more

Comfortable; it consumes

Fear like trivia with no

Nutritive benefit

Loneliness denied is preferable

Since trusting anyone requires

Discretion…heart might be

Fatally impetuous, after all—

Labyrinthine isolation allures:

Castle luxuriously appointed

Mauve silk linen draperies

Teak paneled walls, teal velvet

Chaise to languish upon…

Will Despondency triumph?

Nay, soul’s victory is but a

Prayer away…miracle, angel’s visit…

Hope has not absconded, a thief

‘Tis only somewhat tardy, it seems

‘Mid tumultuous seasons, life


“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.”

Proverbs 13:12, New Internat’l Version

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.














Eugi’s Weekly Prompt “Observation” July 6, 2020