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You are my red and white rose full of passion and purity,
Let not the wind kiss you nor the butterflies feed on you.
I will still love you when you have a petal or two on you,
For you will always be my rose.
 Jun 12
Stu Harley
ghostwhite moon
a rebel
deep in
my heart
beating strong
love is knocking at my door
for some way to belong
i am still sure
 Apr 14
Painted toes, the color of ripe eggplants
Flutter and kick around as giggles bubble the rim of my hard edges
Days gone by in silence, broken now by mirth
Drunk on a spring afternoon's nectar
I catch the sparkle in your eye, knowing
What comes next will have me breathless, wanting
"Please" whispered softly as giggles fade to sighs
You love it when I beg
I need this, you, here in the sunshine
Gilded fingertips tracing my tarnish
Chasing away the darkness with the promise of warmth
 Apr 12
Chest heaving, eyes weeping,
The tomb blurs before my eyes.
How is everyone else still sleeping
When my Savior doesn’t arise?

Oh, how the doubt roars within me,
His words now seem to me as His rotting flesh,
“I will rise on day three,”
But his body is now stolen, unless…

Dirt clenching onto my dress,
I fling the tears from my eyes,
Trying to decide if… Yes!
There are people by his graveside.

Angels they must be, all in white,
And before I can confirm their existence, they speak:
“Woman, why are you weeping at this sight?”
My anger flares as I try to control my speech.

“Because my Lord has been taken away,
And I don’t know where his body is.”
I attempt to keep my temper at bay,
Turning away to abate my boiling fears.

Then I see the gardener, and a flash of brilliance
Or desperation rises in me, which one I don’t know,
But as I open my mouth to ask about my Lord’s disappearance,
He speaks: “Why are you weeping woman, why such sorrow?”

Again the same question, yet I cannot form
An adequate response; how can one describe
The loss of Him who can calm the storm,
But now has left my world in turmoil at his sacrifice?

My anger reaches the heavens now,
And in irritation I retort, “If you have taken Him away,
Tell me where He is, and I will take him from thou.”
Chest heaving, eyes weeping, I glance away.

But then I hear my name, soft and sweet but firm,
Two syllables, a clear “Mary!”
And I turn
And my unbridled joy at seeing him turns into “Rabboni!”

I ponder for a second what it’s like to feel
Sadness, for in that split second, it’s gone,
It’s been replaced by rejoicing and zeal,
And I resist the urge to leap with the dawn.

How could I have ever doubted?
Of course His words are true,
It’s a reality that must be shouted,
Yet all I can do is stare at him now that he’s in my view.

“Do not cling to me,” he says earnestly
“For I still must ascend to my Father,
And please tell our friends this, for certainly
I ascend to My God and your God, My Father and your Father.”

It was good he said this, for I had forgotten
In my excitement to see my Savior; I’m sure
His disciples must have wondered whether their Lord had rotted:
“I’m leaving right now, my Savior!”

Sandals rubbing into callouses, lungs heaving,
I ran back to town, through the streets that
Once knew me in despair, grieving,
Hardly stopping, for I had no time to chat.

My Savior has risen, he is alive and well,
He has saved us lost sheep who have gone astray,
And although He no longer on Earth will dwell,
He will never allow us to fully decay.

I’m sure when you die he will call your name too,
With a voice soft and sweet but firm and so true,
And you will go be with Him and He’ll make you brand-new,
And we’ll all live forever from our own Easter morning, too.
Happy Easter weekend, everyone!  Although this  isn't an Easter we could foresee or plan for, God's resurrection and Word is still the same, during this time and every time.  Hallelujah!  This poem is based on John 20:11-18.
 Feb 6
Jack Jenkins
I'm letting go of the person I knew
Of you
Of myself
The hurt never lead to freedom
But the key
Was always there
//On her//
 Jan 12
There comes a point where you dance.
And not the same for everyone,
but you must dance.
Because when your heart has been still and stuck in sadness
you must give it a little chaos after.
After what, you may ask?
After you're broken.
After your heart feels absolutely shattered to its core.
After you and your love have been at war.
After a long day at work.
Just after.
Anything, where your heart has hurt
you MUST dance.
I hope that someday you dance again.
I did.
And I've never been more joyful.
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