Somewhere in this verse,
What's lost can be found,
It's through patience,
And it's through your Love-
That it can be ever found.

All is dark except I see
These extended arms in front of me
They are waving, trembling
I barely have the sight to see
These open hands in front of me
They are reaching, searching
I hardly have the light to see
These stretching fingers in front of me
They are straining, grasping

As I watch, how strangely familiar I find
These arms, these hands, these fingers
What could fill them
That would still them?
As I look, I realize that they’re mine
these arms, these hands, these fingers
What could hold them
That would console them?

In this darkness, am I the only one who sees
The struggle in front of me?
It is desperate, helpless

All is numb except I feel
This empty space inside of me
It is widening, deepening
I only have the sense to feel
This growing hunger inside of me
It is pressing, aching
My nerves are acute just to feel
This enduring famine inside of me
It is agonizing, deadly

This pain worsens with the sight of
These arms, these hands, these fingers
What would occupy them
That would satisfy them?
I am feeling exhausted by the fight of
These arms, these hands, these fingers
What could nourish me
That would flourish me

In this void, am I the only one aware
Of the pain inside of me?
I am in anguish, pleading

Through the darkness, I finally see
Two different hands reaching out to me
They are calloused, scarred
Closing this void, I begin to feel
Such merciful love consuming me
It is boundless, overflowing
I find new life the moment I take
These hands that defeated death for me
It is abundant, eternal

The fullest joy He freely offers with
His arms, His hands, His fingers
His love fills me
Peace stills me
His gentleness holds me
Grace consoles me
To this joy I’ll always cling with
My arms, my hands, my fingers
His presence occupies me
Truth satisfies me
His word nourishes me
Hope flourishes me

In those depths, why was I so unaware
Of Him standing right in front of me
He is my stronghold, Deliverer

Heartmouth Apr 15

Heartmouth. What does it mean? What does it mean to you?
That doesn't matter.
What matters is what it means to me.
I've always been a thinker.
I've always used the left lobe of my brain more than my right.
But one thing about me is instead of saying what is on my mind, I say what is on my heart.
My heart has a connection to my mouth.
And whatever I say, comes from that connection; thus creating my Heartmouth.

this is me

What a shock when
the Ely News
arrived emblazoned
with the story
that our own
Paradise Pool
is to be used
for nudists

My wife and I
(and many of our friends)
are not nudists
and would be very upset
if this “kind of thing”
became a regular event

It may be good enough
For Mildenhall
(with their population
of Americans
or even Newmarket
with their rich
horse-racing fraternity)

But this is Ely!

I hope
[that] this
is not the start
of a nudist slippery slope!

What next?

I took this from a newspaper clipping I found online and couldn't help thinking that it would make an excellent found poem.
Gabriel Burns Apr 2

Thoughts take off
From dandelion head
I lost them
but found one
In the palm
of your hand

...make a wish
cait Mar 23

i no longer pray for forgiveness.
i pray for growth.
and for me

that is enough.

maybe i have found myself
Meg Howell Mar 21

You were found in my ignorances

The things I chose not to see in myself,
you found in me

This contagious, spontaneous, fun house walk-through, reflecting only the compassionate parts of us two

Viktoria Mar 13

Whatever happens - I am ready
No fears, only excitement
Whatever happens, nothing bothers
Here I am, no suffering, no more

Embracing every obstacle
Like in a game
Even if I got too much out of the frame
Whatever happens, I am ready now
No questioning, no doubts
Playing around
So happy
Being me
That's what I like to be

Seth Milliman Mar 10

I again in me am lost,
Restrained by the sound of my voice in the wind.
There is no tamed charm or lucid movement,
That brings forth a natural act within the play.
The game is always on and the challenge is difficult at best,
What do we succeed for when we become everyone else?
When individual specialness becomes a back boated myth to nowhere,
Is it irony or sarcasm to ones idioms that makes the difference?
A play everyone plays,
A test at one point everyone fails.
We are all not complex,
But neither are we all simple either.
So the question remains,
What are we?
Frivolous travelers looking for a place to lay our head,
Or someone special to enjoy the rest of our lives with.
The question feels unanswered,
And lost feels so much clearer than being found.

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