Sunrise Glory-Dressed

Glory-dressed sunrise

Exalts Creator…warm hues

Woven of hushed-awe

Threaded through dawn’s rose-gold silk

Altar set, let Earth praise God

“His coming is as brilliant as the sunrise. Rays of light flash from his hands, where his awesome power is hidden.” Habakkuk 3:4, New Living Translation

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


Forgiveness, free gift

More costly than gold, diamonds

Spattered with Christ’s blood

Some hearts pour grace easily

Others must mine with pickax…

If not for mercy

My bitter root’s hardened fruit

Would warrant stoning

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

“When they were unable to repay him, he forgave both of them. Which one, then, will love him more?”

“I suppose the one who was forgiven more,” Simon replied. 

“You have judged correctly.” Jesus said. Luke 7:42-43, Berean Study Bible

Heaven’s Gala (Blessing)

“He has brought me to his banquet hall, And his banner over me is love.”

Song of Solomon 2:4, New American Standard Bible


One day in Heaven

There will be lavish gala

Full banquet table

Mouthwatering angel cake

Myriad delicacies

And giddy dancing

Like long ago, David’s* reign

Joy with King Jesus

Hearts celebrating Presence

Eternal blessings of God

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

“You have made known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand.” Psalm 16:11, Berean Study Bible

“They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights.” Psalm 36:8, English Standard Bible

“Let them praise His name with dancing; Let them sing praises to Him with timbrel and lyre.” Psalm 149:3, NASB

*“And David danced before the LORD with all his might, wearing a priestly garment.” 2 Samuel 6:14, New Living Translation

Mourning Madrigal

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on

Perfume of dead roses remains

Just as love’s pulse persists in

Beating rhythm, exquisite pain

“Remembrance”, name of fragrance

Worn…some days it suffocates

The deceased, they never leave us

Pale ribbons reluctant to release

What binds heart to mind

Dry petals, wrinkled dusk pillows

And snowy lace of winter

A shroud, chill dressing gown

For I awake recalling dream

In which your hands reach

Taking mine, help me step

‘Cross some narrow stream

Green branch, or threshold

‘Tween Here, and forever you are

Your smile wide-warm welcoming

Your words curiously knowing

“You always think of me”, you say

Then dark drape drops on scene

‘Fade to black’, the film term

All I know is hushing waves, palms

Eyes cling to glimpse, desired face

Hear last notes, timbre of your voice

That once I thought could save me

Love like rose petals papery

Dust of romance, stars fast fallen

On opalescent ocean

Where we drank from seashells

Till we drowned together

And only I survived, sentenced

To pen lyrics, mourning madrigal

Sirens’ song eternal

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

Token of Love, Respect

“Jaime spent the whole day browsing the antique store and left with just one thing.” 

His uncle Simon had died unexpectedly six months before.  He hadn’t always gotten along with his uncle, but he’d respected him.  They’d spent a lot of time together (different issues between Jaime’s parents)…and Uncle Simon had been particular regarding the right way to behave

“How one conducts oneself reflects character”, Uncle Simon said more than once.  Having integrity and being well-mannered, especially in the way a man spoke, told volumes; and was worth more than a fat savings account and material possessions, his uncle impressed upon him.

He could be stern sometimes, though probably not intentionally hurtful.  Jaime had acquired education from his uncle that doesn’t come from books and classrooms.

Along with the suddenness of his uncle’s death, came the surprise that he was rather wealthy.  Uncle Simon had shrugged off questions about his collection as, “just things I’ve picked up along the way”.  But now that his uncle had left him a considerable cash gift allocated for college education, he took a fresh interest in objects which might be of significant value, and begged his mom to hold onto everything.

He’d begun spending his free time visiting second-hand stores and small antique shops…making mental notes about quality and price of items, compared to what his uncle had owned.  Today he felt sad, missing Uncle Simon.  Walking amid displays of curiosities, he considered leaving the store and having lunch at a nearby deli—that might cheer him up, he mused.  But then something shiny stopped him.

As he examined it, testing its heft and studying the imprint on the bottom, the shop owner approached him.

“Are you interested in a brass spittoon, young man?” the woman inquired.

“I might be.”

The woman rambled on about its history, but he wasn’t hearing her.  He was thinking about Uncle Simon’s lecture on “bad language”…how poor grammar and more importantly, vulgarity, stamped a man indelibly as “ignorant, uncouth”.  He’d warned Jaime to clean up his cursing, or he’d start charging him money for each transgression. 

Uncle Simon would have loved the spittoon…grinning, Jaime peeled off bills to pay for it.  On the increasingly rare occasions he said offensive words, he’d now have somewhere to figuratively spew them.

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

Played This Song So Long

Photo by NEOSiAM 2020 on


Played this song so long

Again and over again

Till cheap tape unraveled

Spilled like tears that never end

Half a century’s now gone

I still hear it clear in mind

See pensive gaze, blue eyes kind

You’ll ever be the only

One my heart is cherishing

Ghost-love real and shimmered

In well where dreams live wishing

Remember me, wait beyond rain’s veil

I hold the words which cannot pale

Kept in pocket of soul, our script

A chance to speak unfinished rhyme

Romance ballad, sing once more

Eerie wind chimes keeping time

Though you never sang for me before

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

Between Here and Heaven

Photo by Raine Nectar on

If all she’d wanted

Was a rainbow’s

Prismatic staircase

To Throne’s eternal home

It was hers already

Merely waiting in wings

Till Final Act

But pity the soul

Laden with rapturous

Torment’s irrepressible

Craving for something

More, in-between

Here and Now

Then and There

Something, someone

Impossible to be had

For it, he, escaped her

Reach, not meant to be

Excluded from Plan

No fine print

In Destiny

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

Do You Hear the People Sing?

“Do you hear the people sing?”

Yes, somber dirges, keening

Hymns of murmured humble prayer

‘We shall overcome…walk hand in hand

We are not afraid…we shall live in peace

We’re on to victory…the Truth shall make us free’

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

Never Be Over

*Line for this week:  Someday, this will be over– only remembered like some half-felt and fading nightmare.

I recall hearing, “Some day, this

Will be over—only remembered like

Some half-felt and fading nightmare”.

It was a lie…cold, cruel and empty

Spoken by an arrogant someone

Trying to convince me of his superior

Intelligence, wise experience.

It would never be over, never be

Only half-felt…it’s the nightmare

That never fades.

Agony of riding edge of insanity is

Tense, breathless, sick-to-your-stomach

Dizzy dance which goes round

And round, like a circle in a spiral.

Do I digress?

Had no way to duck temptation…

No text, script to follow.

Murky mind can’t tell difference

Between love, need, hatred…they swirl

Together in whirlpool; reason

Trounced, drowning denied.

What lives on within painful pulse…

Undead passion for gone-love, ghost-love.

How can anyone hate desperate

Child with hungry heart?

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