Prepositions-A Poem of Praise

Overcome by the quaking 

power of God's sweet presence

Around the shoulders of 

friend-draped worshippers

Across the room to the children raising, 

praising, lifting small hands

Surrounded by incarnations of God 

in these multi-colored people

Next to sweet-voiced sisters 

and deep-throated men,

I'm looking~~

Eyes up and over and through the windows, 

past the summer-waving trees

to a lidless blue sky

where my soul 

longs for home

and I sing

while I can

'til He comes

for me.

~~~~~~~

linking with Kelly and #Small Wonder Community. 

More lovely words over there.

Juneteenth 2015

Feeling the rain come
cave-cool air, white
and empty but for 
the breeze.
Still water rushing
the trees, sleepy
birds sitting at rest
call out the change
while tone on tone chimes 
echo from far below.
The drops fall - 
spare, invisible, too few.
My dry, gray lawn
is thirsty and longs
for a drenching, healing
the brittle, breakable land.
Hollow grasses like so many
hollow words, ache to be
filled, water that would wash
away this dusty, aching
emptiness.
Dear God, may it pour.
c. Jody Lee Collins 2015
~~~~~~~~

Juneteenth is the oldest nationally celebrated commemoration of the ending of slavery in the United States. From its Galveston, Texas origin in 1865, the observance of June 19^th as the African American Emancipation Day has spread across the United States and beyond.  I couldn't help thinking as this poem came to me last night how the hatred of black people in this country is still very much alive.  My heart breaks for Charleston.

Introduction to Poetry

I avoided it as long as I could,
skirted the issue like
a wallflower at my first dance.
Curious from afar about
such beauty and grace,
wondering at the words.
I felt unequal to the task
conversing with verse--
or worse--writing it...
why?
What if I was wrong?
I hesitated as long as I could,
delayed the appointed 
time of our meeting
like an obligatory trip
to the dentist.
When at last we were introduced
(by a mutual friend)
my fears dissolved like
sugar in a steaming cup of tea--
the sweetness of the welcome
(toothache be damned)
was a pleasant surprise.
I extended my hand, 
enticed by the freedom 
of words on the page just so--
black on ivory, a gleaming smile
beckoning me to the dance.
I raised my pen and twirled.
~~~~~

The poem was inspired by a prompt from The Mischief Cafe,by TSPoetry Press,  a volume of poetry interspersed with blank pages for your own lines, prompts provided.

Mischief Cafe is a portable 'happening' around the treasure of poetry, sort of like a Peoplehood of the Traveling Feather Boas. 
Well, there were feather boas at our soiree.  What might you serve?

First Grade English Lesson

Across the pencils pointed skyward

like so many word-wielding swords

past the gray and steel of 

overflowing desks filled with 

orphaned papers stashed, crumpled askew

over the carpet-bland, sturdy, useable

home to small and hopeful feet

to the doorway--closed.

Through it comes

life and noise and limbs,

any moment now--

eager hearts, chattering faces,

souls on their sleeves--

seven year old movers and shakers.

God, help me see through to their hearts.