Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
You were born of passion and intimacy
Your little soul was given shape when love was fresh and new
We didn't know it then, ignorant bliss we were in
But you were taking shape: creeping in like morning dew

The day we found your presence was one of joy and wonder
We had no idea how hard the journey, we would take it step-by-step
We looked forward to your coming, but we feared our imperfections
We did our best to plan ahead...but for new life, can one truly prep?

The weeks flew by, you grew and grew!
You were developing at an incredible pace!
Each tiny part was taking shape
First a heartbeat, then a face

Nine short-long months you lived in me
Our bodies knit together as one
Rumble, tumble, hiccup, kick
Never knowing if you were daughter or son

Then came the days of labor and travail
Labor of love, but painfully long
First in the home, then to hospital rushed
All for the moment you cried your first song

Music to my ears was your first little wail
"It's a girl!" was exclaimed as you were laid in my arms
My Melina, my sweetie girl, my precious one
From that first moment you had me charmed

They took you from me to clean you and warm you
Then brought you back to cuddle with me
Oh the agony when they found fault in your breath
And took you the second time from me

Empty arms in an empty room
It was a long, lonely night: that first night of all
I cried as I thought of how far apart...
Sepparated from you by dozens of halls

We spent several days waiting for you
Your recovery was quick, but felt so slow
The day we finally took you home
Made our hearts leap, skip, and glow

Now that you're here, there are no silent nights
My arms are filled with your ravenous self
But I would not change that, no not for the world
Though tired and insufficient myself

For this journey we've begun is teaching me much
I am selfish, impatient, and often unkind
But God gives more grace on this road of life
And your smile so sweet as you relax and unwind

I love you, Melina.
To my sweet little daughter who is three weeks old. You have brought many smiles and tears, and I am so excited for the journey ahead.
Imagine a world where no music rang
A silent place where no one sang
The rhythms of life all irregularly paced
Every word disjointed and out of place

Imagine a world where no music rang
No melodies on which our words could hang
No magic of harmonies weaving their colors gay
No soulful instruments for us to play

A world of lies
A world of sorrows
A world of ending our weary tomorrows

But now...

Imagine a world ringing with truth
A world full of hope and youth
A world where song readily swelled
And melody came as from an endless well

Imagine a world shaped by the the greatest song
A world full of choirs instead of angry throngs
A world where no strife of hate could endure
And every gesture was gentle and sure

A world full of grace
A world full of joy
A world where each life is meaningfully employed

Imagine the difference
Imagine the change
Imagine the day where we make the exchange...
Lore and Legend Sep 2020
Sometimes I feel afraid.

It's a childish thing at my age:
To fear darkness, emptiness, or blade
Or to cry over life's turning of a page.

Yet, here I am: tears wet my cheeks.
Here I am: I cannot sleep.

I mourn over lost days, months, and weeks
And with foolish faith I hide in blankets deep.

But growing up leaves blankets a poor comfort in the dark.
No "Teddy Dear" could ever hold all the sorrows in my heart.
No nightlight as a beacon; no candle, fire, or spark
No Mummy and Daddy to come and rend my fears apart.

I am alone tonight, and this knowledge cuts me deep.
I must face my fears at last and trust the Lord my soul to keep.

For if the lights do not go out, and darkness is never ours
We would never know the wonder of a sky full of stars.
Lore and Legend Mar 2020
When the entirety of my dreams collapse

When castles I've built up in sand become ruins in a heap

And weigh more than a mountain as they melt into the beach

And the waves come to pummel any of the remains

As the turning of the tide swallows up my fame

And the Son beating down turns all my selfish works to shame

What shall a soul, broken, battered and lost, do in the midst of such destruction?

Or who can heal a broken spirit that lies parched and vulnerable in the rays of noonday?

A perverted soul like mine withers in the face of such Glory divine

Glory of a hidden paradise, an island all mine own

Filled with wonderous sights to feed the eyes, and luscious fruits to feed the soul

And yet I sit upon the beaches, looking down at the dust

Trying to build something of worth out of the most worthless thing I've found

Not able to get up, to explore, or be at peace

And the one thing that keeps me here is my own prideful, ambitious sceme

I worked through the night, in the shelter of darkness

The bitter cold of night preffered to the cool of the Day

And now I see that it was all vanity

The tides of Love stay at bay for none, and are as fierce as they are lovely

And they wreck the best intentions built on the wrong foundation

At the end of myself, and the works of my hands, I see how foolish I have been

For none with sense would ever build a home upon the shore

And only the most perfect Love could breathe life into sculpted sand

Too weak to resist, I succumb to the roaring waves

I feel the tide pull the ground out from under me

This final surrender pulls me out into the deep unknown

A baptism of death to self, and a life so truely real
That when I rise back to the surface, I shall finally, really heal
Lenten Meditaions... Job 6:2+3

"Oh that my grief were throughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the balances together! For it would have been heaver than the sand of the sea: therefore my words are swallowed up."
Lore and Legend Mar 2020
Early Wednesday morning I rise and take a breath
I feel my life course through me, but tis a life of death
The sky shrouds itself in solemn mist, as if nature knows the story
How death was chosen over life, and ashes over glory

I sew a fragile garment to hide my shame from ages past
My crude clothing of smile-coated lies...instead of the outward garb of grass
Prepared for my funeral, with black, on black, on black
The golden cross hung 'round my neck shows whom I'm seeking, and says, "There's no going back"

I step out into a world that crumbles beneath my feet
To find sanctuary for my restless soul: a place with Christ to meet
A place where prayers have a scent, and holiness a sound
A place where I can touch my Rock, and feel my Solid Ground

I kneel down to confess my faults, all my own in a multitude
Alone I whisper my many faults, yet I know I'm not in solitude
For all fall short, all shall die, and all shall feel great pain and loss
Today, however, we remember that the ground is even at the cross

As one body we approach the altar, and kneel humbly at the rail
We feel the ashes fall down our face, so dead, so dark, so stale
I breathe the dust from which I'm made, remember my dying frame
Yet this cross of ash, this sign of death, whispers that I shall be born again
'And he said to them all, "If any man come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me."'
Lore and Legend Oct 2019
Your scarf on my neck
I close my eyes and inhail
Suddenly you're near
This haiku is dedicated to my fabulous boyfriend. I thank God every day for such a sweet gentleman as him. <3
Lore and Legend Oct 2019
They say the most beautiful gems are the hardest to grow:
They are rare, precious, and unique
Their journeys are long, hard, painful and slow
But their beauty is of greatest value

They begin as any other rock, average and ugly:
Rough, pointed, and unrefined
Then circumstances pressure them, hold them snugly
'til in the heated heart of earth they are purified

Once formed, they must surface, they must be found:
Rooted, probed, and undermined
Rugged rocks from the cold underground
Are saved from the dark to be seen in the light

The sparkle is there, but still under the surface:
Remote, perdu, and unknown
Cut and ground to reach their true purpose
The glittering gems are at last revealed

When I look at this process, I see my own story
Fallen, broken, and remade
First dying inside, then raised up to glory...
You see my little gem beginning to show
Strive to love the unlovable...because they may be diamonds in the rough.
Next page