Streams of Imagination

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The darkened clouds build and rise quickly and quietly, the rain gathers and gently drops, the waters combine, gather more and more speed and flow toward their destination.

Childhood streams of imagination become adolescent rivers flooded by adult responsibilities and rush on to repositories of wisdom.

A great lake begun by glacial dreams, created by life experiences, unique storms, and glorious memories reveals vivid colors of bluish green, brownish gray, or golden hues depending on the time of day.

Deep and beautiful to behold, birds soar and sing above it, puffy clouds form objects in the sky, and fish leap toward them and splash back down – rippling the water.

All along the shore gnarled weathered trees with strong needles and leaves watch with folded arms as they stand on their deep roots.

The water reflects the past while revealing the future as children laugh and play with rocks, sticks and sand among the sprawling roots and sloping banks – their voices excited and full of wonder.

The sun begins to set, yet lingers long in amusement at the converging streams of imagination, then stops, smiles and winks.

 

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Depression

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I’m living inside a book return
The door opens and in they come
But I can’t read them fast enough
Light appears and the door slams shut

A thousand books weigh on my brain
A million words calling me insane
Not one can help my soul explain
The depths of my numbness to pain

I suffer beneath a familiar face
Gagged by volumes about my case
Each page numbered with more disgrace
Bound in a box of no escape

No one will ever find me here
No words of hope can bring me cheer
I’m lost in a prank of polished steel
Trapped in the depths of vaulted fear

Behind the lines

“The mind can descend far lower than the body, for in it there are bottomless pits. The flesh can bear only a certain number of wounds and no more, but the soul can bleed in ten thousand ways, and die over and over again each hour.”
~C.H. Spurgeon

This poem was inspired by reading Zack Eswine’s book Spurgeon’s Sorrows: Realistic Hope for those who Suffer from Depression.

 

You Love Me With Your Eyes

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I can see it in your eyes
I can sense it across the room
There’s no hiding what you’re feeling
And there’s nothing I can do

You love me with your eyes
You’re in love and everyone knows
You have strength deep inside
And it shines wherever you go
Girl, you take me into your soul when
You love me with your eyes

Everyone else disappears
When you glance over at me
When our eyes meet they lock in a kiss
Like lightning hitting the sea

Waves crashing on a pristine beach
Sunset falling over the ocean side
Starlight as far as the heavens deep
And then there’s your eyes

 

When Daddy’s Hands Were Bigger

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Staring at an old framed photograph hanging on my parent’s wall,
It stopped me in my tracks as I was walking down their hall,
I just stood there, going back in time, letting it all soak in,
As memories, like a slide show, reminded me of life back then.

Hauling hay, smelling the sweet grass, riding high on a half-ton Chevy truck,
Splitting wood until blisters formed, then stacking all of it up,
Raking leaves around the roots of the giant white oak late in the fall,
Shooting hoops in the driveway and chasing down the ball.

Riding my bike on Harmony Drive, peddling that black Huffy for hours,
Building a fort in the woods under fallen pine trees near the pasture,
Removing debris damming the little backyard creek to help it flow,
Growing up outside, a young man, always on the go.

The flashbacks began to fade as I slowly came back to the present,
But the last thought I had held me there for several more seconds…
Back then it was a different world of busy, and life was so much simpler,
When Daddy’s hands were bigger.

Into the Fog of Gloomy Gray

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Two red flags waving on the shore
Change to white signaling a love no more
Marking where two lovers once guarded their castle strong
But wave after wave it eroded away
And now it is gone

Where no ocean breeze brings relief
Where no moonlit tide rests the mind
Separated and drifting further away
Gone, into the fog of gloomy gray
Into the fog of gloomy gray

No sunny, long walks on the beach
Only fists full of mist left within reach
No strong storms brewing in the eyes of tangled up hearts
Just emotional waves hiding day after day
Pushing them apart

Where no ocean breeze brings relief
Where no moonlit tide rests the mind
Separated and drifting further away
Gone, into the fog of gloomy gray
Into the fog of gloomy gray

Behind the lines

Red flag marriages going separate ways and all the cloudy emotions that follow.

But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him (Lamentations 3:21-24).”

The Parting

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Their bond was deeper, richer, and more than what many call true love,
But no other words exist to describe it better.
Pleasant years of joyfully, faithfully serving one another would soon end.
A new age was upon them, one where they would no longer be – together.

Nearing their bittersweet goodbye, foreknown, but always so far away,
Closer now than ever, they shared their last touch and tear filled words,
The heartbeat faded…
It was over, beautifully tender, yet simply awful.

A farewell kiss no one else could fully comprehend.

Love, forever impacting them and others, parting, still strong,
Slipping beyond time and the physical world,
Falling into the Hands of Heaven.

Behind the lines

The last enemy to be destroyed is death. ~ 1 Corinthians 15:26

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