Sunday Songs ~ It’s a 3-Song Day!

Well, I wept my way through a list of possible songs to bring you today, and narrowed it down to three.  Sometimes life is just HARD, and our hearts can barely hold the weight of the world’s (and our own) sorrows.  Music is great, no matter our mood—we can dance or cry, music carries us along.

And, there’s something else—LOVE, and Someone—JESUS.  First day to last, beginning to end, Jesus is the Love who comes into our lives and never leaves…if we open heart’s door to Him.  He is “the blessing in the broken pieces”, as Zach and Dolly sing in the last song today.

If you’re burdened, hurting, lost…consider the Savior, who took everything mankind would suffer upon Himself at the Cross of Calvary.  His shed blood is salvation, grace, power, healing, peace, deliverance, wisdom, wholeness, joy, discernment, strength, light, life…and LOVE beyond all we can imagine,offered freely.

May you feel His touch, His Holy Spirit’s refreshing…and abundant blessings each day to comelove, Rhen

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Love’s Singed Feathers

This is my attempt at the “shovel poem” form, in which you use a line/words from another poem.  The last word in each line forms the line of the poem you’ve chosen.  “Hope Is the Thing With Feathers”, by Emily Dickinson, follows my poem (also links to form & Emily’s poem).

Fallen from head-spinning height, heart without hope

Lying on sand where tender wavelets touch, whisper: is

Her soul still present, sighing, or shall we beckon the

Angels?  How quiet the wind, far-off wings…poor thing

She’s bereft, tears spilled on crushed pale seashells; with

Dregs of fantasy drained dry, and love’s singed feathers

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

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/golden-shovel-poetic-form

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2020/06/05/fallen/

Let it die.

~*~

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

BY EMILY DICKINSON
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

Obsidian Season

Weekend Challenge – Obsidian

 

Obsidian lump

Lodged in throat, pit of stomach

Migrated to heart

Busy Death invisible

Carried on air over globe

~

Never satisfied

Reaper’s bullets, knee found more

Victims crossed off list

Numbers rise fast furious

Tears blind bright year of Vision

~

Obsidian rock

Hate hurled curse through city streets

Violence devours

Shreds families’ fabric, faith-hope

Futures lost ‘mid shattered glass

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Let Love cool lava

Paint life’s hues ‘cross grafitti

Restore souls’ charred shards

~

Sacrifice of praise

Brethren sing to Sovereign Lord

Lift prayers, await Word

Deliverance is promised

Comfort to those who sorrow

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

Time’s Downpour

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/05/23/weekend-writing-prompt-158-downpour/

Unending downpour

Both dust and gritty sand, Time

Free-falling (whimpers

Weighted with light, dark) downward

To very depths of marrow, swims

Through murky thickness

The accumulated deluge

Flood puddles risen

Seep into heart chambers

As afternoon shadows weep…

Do you hear the birds?

Not pre-dawn singing—they scream

Their nerves strung too tight

Inside small feathered bodies

Echoing kindred spirit…

Sudden rain begins

Pattering drops upon leaves

While sharp hailstorm thoughts

Pelt, dry as crushed spices in throat

Formless words of crippled yearning

Hang from cliff edge, eroding…

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

God Comes Running, Sunday Song

Lord, just for today

Make everything be alright

Send this day’s manna

Your gentle rain of healing

To replace night puddles’ tears

~

So many anguished

Their hope, faith unraveling

Speak the Word, O God

One breath from You sweeps darkness

Gone, all which gnaws, writhes within

~

The battle’s Yours, Lord

Thankfulness, our sacrifice

Trust, our choice to make

Lift us to Your holy hill

Rock fortress where Light guides us

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