If I could sing, I'd sing for You
A song that's beautiful and fair.
A song to say how I love You
With lovely words to fill the air.

It matters not the circumstance
Tho' skies be gloomy or be bright.
I'd sing with my ‘final’ breath
To You I'd sing both day and night.

I'd sing when I'm tired and weary.
I'd give You all my heart and soul.
The song I sing when I am young,
I'd sing it still when I am old.

Within my life-song's every hue,
My heart and soul I give to You.

Today He sang a lovely song
Thro’ a sparrow perching near.
He sung to me a lovely song
To wane my hurt and wax my cheer.

I knew it was Him all the time,
There, posing as a little bird;
Concealing His identity.
The sweetest melody e’er heard.

Yes, ‘twas You singing to me
Thro’ the voice of a sparrow near.
Your song brought comfort to my heart.
An act to say how much You care.
I thank You for the sparrow’s song.
How glad I am he came along.

My Love, I sail this treacherous sea
The sea of life with all its ills.
The boisterous winds and giant waves.
And rising tides. Oh, come and still.

The nights are long, dark and fearful.
Oh Lord, my love, my Savior divine.
Terror strikes like lightning bolts
While sailing o’er the angry brine.

Uncertainty stalks, looming ‘bout;
Naught but peril all around.
Fear within and perils without
Amid the search for higher ground.

Yet in the distance, glist’ning bright,
Midst life’s boisterous sea—a ‘light.’

Amazing is Your gift of grace,
That You should even think of me.
I am convinced Your love is true
‘Tis by Your concern, I can tell.

Grace. Oh, marvelous grace divine
All wrapped with love-- a thing sublime.
A grace that gives and gives and gives.
With sweetness of a pealing chime.

And oh, that You should give to me
Such gift so beautiful and free—
A wondrous thing. A mystery.
How grateful I shall ever be.

And I, in turn, with rapid pace,
Do thank You for Your gift of grace.

I have read Your loving letters
Not just once, but time and again.
And, each time, my heart beats wildly:
Oh, Lord, my love—my God and Friend.

Incomparable to all things,
Beautiful, boundless and true—
Always assuring is Your love,
Encompassing every hue.

The Promise of togetherness,
As, longingly, my heart reads on.
For I shall see Your lovely face:
And I pray, ‘twill won’t be long.

For, then, I’ll be safe in Your arms
From this a world, so full of harm.

The little black book Mamma would read
Was filled with miracles—a wonder indeed.
It showed God’s love; taught many a thing,
Gave lots of hope and caused her to sing.

She daily prayed and sought God’s Word,
On which pages His voice she heard.
As for His promises, with never a doubt,
The Word of God—it brought her out.

And from that book, she'd never depart,
But hid it deep within her heart.
When Mom’s days on earth were done,
The Word took wings and they as one
Sailed the skies, beyond the blue.
God’s Word is faithful and ever true.

I am a unique gift given unto men—
Sent to teach and guide, and to comfort them.
From the heart of God, peace and hope I bring.
Adding depth to life, I give the soul wings.
I am Poetry.

I was here for ages, even before dawn.
I can make mount’ns skip and the deserts spawn.
The masters are all gone, who have imprints laid.
But I am here for eons to tell what ‘they’ve said.
I am Poetry.

Give me a voice, lend me an ear;
I will tell of yesteryear,
When in water the earth did lay,
And God created the first day.
I’ll give you love;  I’ll give you land.  
And place a wand in your hand.
With words, soothing and so sweet,
I’ll lay the world down at your feet.
I am Poetry.

My going is from east to west,
My message is of peace.
Inspiring souls in every quest,
I give true hope to each.
I can make the flowers laugh  
Or give the trees arms.
I can make the brines rage
Or render them ever so calm.
I am Poetry.

Give me a voice, and I will speak
Of the ocean, earth and sky.
I dwell amongst the noble,
The humble and the wise.
Look for me amid the stars,
There is where I’ll be.
In meadows, fields, gardens…
The sunset and the sea.
I am Poetry.

I am tucked beneath great rocks
Or hidden in the sand.
Come, now, search gingerly,
And find me—if you can.
I am poetry.
(1997)