Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Pen and Paper (07/17/14)
- TITLE: Dear Diary
By Margaret Kearley
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Your hidden depths, so rarely shared,
Are here revealed to illustrate
How one soul doth pontificate …
Pristine, unmarked, no evidence
Of all that will yet follow hence;
Fresh diary, unpolluted, clean,
Untouched by tales of what has been.
Here page on page awaiting lay
To unfold news of coming day.
What mystery - times yet unknown;
For only God upon His throne
Holds past and present, future too
Within His hand – my soul, will you
Therefore commit in yielded trust
Your all to Him who loveth much.
Held in His arms of love
Kept by His grace I know
I am secure eternally
Because He’s promised so.
Daffodils wildly exploding,
Yellow trumpets fast unfolding,
Golden flower, oh how you sing
To welcome the approaching Spring.
Of warmer lighter days you tell
And bid dark winter fast farewell.
Trusting Him - when all alone,
Knowing He is on the Throne,
He will make His pathway known,
This I know.
Trusting Him when men forsake
When I feel my heart might break
His way alone’s the path to take,
This is so.
Trusting Him – His love so great
Surrounding, shielding, as I wait,
Until He leads to Heaven’s gate,
I love Him so.
The wind is on a rampage
This dark and stormy night
With swirling gusts, and sheeting rain,
Unwelcome, summer sight.
We listen to the howling,
the air with screaming rent!
Its certainly not the best of nights
To be inside a tent!
To God alone for every gift
He lovingly bestows
Around us in abundance
No lack your child e’er knows – so
Keep my mind, my heart, and my eyes
Fixed firmly on your face
Until the day I evermore
Lay in your arms embrace. But
Now if weary days on
Earth are weighty with a cross
Suffuse my soul with THANKFULNESS, to
Sing with praise, through loss.
Golden tips top summer’s passing
Green now fades to muted shade
Sunlight rests in shining patches
Glory shines on leaf and blade.
Every shade of changing palette
Bursts abundant ‘fore my eyes
Filling vision with its beauty
‘Neath the golden autumn skies.
Restful green, your time is ending,
Soon you’ll pass, the days ahead’ll
Turn each glint of lime, jade, olive,
Into coral, brown and red.
The Master Artist has returned
This week; he’s been some months away,
He’s visited whilst backs are turned
To place his talent on display.
Patterns of deft intricacy
Of feathered swirl and sweeping line,
Graffiti – but no trace of crime.
He’ll stay a few weeks, maybe more,
Replacing work that’s daily lost
Then he’ll be off to distant shore
Cold weather friend, artist, Jack Frost.
Neat lines of roof tiles – row on row – Hidden!
Remaining plants from summer’s show – Hidden!
Unsightly potholes on the road – Hidden!
The farmer’s field where seeds are sown – Hidden!
Snowflakes abundant, cars in drifts – Skidding!
Friends calling friends for sledging lifts – Bidding!
Cold nought-degrees dispelling germs – Ridding!
So, will it snow on Christmas Day? – You’re Kidding!
(By word of explanation – English very rarely has its longed-for White Christmas!)
For those who’ve bravely reached this far
Applause is surely due
These diary depths were not designed
For sharing, it is true.
But this is just what happens when
I’ve paper and a fluid pen!
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