Mud cakes, sand castles, dress ups and... Make-believe;
Child-like curiosity, awe, wonder and...
Other-world conceive.
Silence, in a busy grownups world gives opportunity for playfulness you can retrieve,
Embrace these moments, seek them out, faith like a mustard seed, oak trees sprout.

As the days slip 
Into chill-filled air,
The watermelon dayz
They seem long gone.
Even with the degrees
Still in the moderate thirties,
I long for those hot, stuffy days
Where we twirled our towels
On our heads and smiled, seed-filled,
And none could distinguish where
Sweet and drippy watermelon grins
Started, and the sweat and slippery long ended.

Lest we forget
Those who served us so,
Now, with heavenly angels,
Alive now, they teach us what we sow,
Shall remain forevermore or wasteless fodder.

We shall not forget them so,
Sacrifice, selflessness, valour undertow,
Remembrance of our heroes,
Provokes us to live now, lives of valour; value.

Hush, it's raining.
Heaven's cleaning the earth
with its gentle brush,
anew.

Critics collude together in cliques to keep themselves safe from reality.
Truth is subjective, they say, diluting its potency and dilating its delusions.
But grounded, truth becomes a platform on which to
kick critics to the curb,
Taste the dirt of their terse tunes.

This is my house, where
I can freely dance
Where I can be,
Without a second glance.
Where I can freely pray,
Thank you for hearing,
Seeing and providing.
Your cooling rain
deepens Your promises.

The sun has risen,
can you hear?
the songs of the morning birds.

Life begins to wake,
the gentle breeze,
blows softly against the trees.
A lovely view awaits.

The orange sky,
the feeling of life!
a beautiful sunrise it is.

I love Sunday for its quietness,
I love Sundays, for there is no rush.
I love Sundays for writing poetry.
I love Sundays for the hush.
I love Sundays for the calm before the storm.
I love Sundays because my mind reboots to the norm.
I love Sundays because I can take my soul for a walk,
And let it roam across heavenly realms.
I love Sundays to be without an agenda that I have to chalk.
I love Sundays, to remember.
I love Sundays, and that's where I will be,
Loving You more without animosity.

Denial will not bring freedom,
Acceptance will.
Not for anyone else,
But You.
Walking in the light,
Will bring freedom!

How do we miss our call?
What's distracting us today from hearing and trusting at all?

To silence the chatter in one's head, one needs to watch it, listen to it, discern it, and master the response.

We all want to be seen and heard, but too many of us don't. As we chase that desire for attention, we forget and miss the need to see someone else.

Busyness has become the currency of this day. "Are you as busy as I?', screams our social media posts. We yearn to be valued and significant to someone else. So much so that we will devalue ourselves and gain our desired attention.

Does that sound familiar?

Of course, others don't have that same craving. But they have other cravings. I think it was St Augustine who said we have a heart-shaped hole/wound within; aching to be filled. And in our haste and uncomfortableness to sit with that ache, we stuff it, numb it, ignore it with stuff that distracts the call to seek our maker. 

But what we need is to accept God's love. Not the duties. Not the need to 'be good' but the call to be loved.

I hesitated,
That's my sin.
I should have gone forward
Not back to where we begin.

I hesitated, 
And that's annoying.
As I could be bombastic
Yeah, that'd be more gratifying.

When a black sheet has been
thrown over the moon
and a million lazy stars
have fallen from view
I hear the wind has
grown tired of traveling
I hear the sound of mandolins
crying in the mountains
I hear the rattle of
gypsy wheels
I hear the heavy hearts
of horses upon the
restless roads of
broken poetry ...
Clay.M