Hope Amidst Scars

Heart’s aubergine sky

Torn, marked…Behold, hope writhes; bursts

Gleaming amidst scars

©Jael Leslie, 2018 ~ All rights reserved.

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Oil of Grace

Some days wake faithless

Old soul fatigued, defeated

Whispers, “Lord, help me”

Life turns on such small prayers prayed

God storms darkness, ransoms peace

Pours oil of His grace

Refills true-heart’s confidence

His mercy rescues

©B D Royale/Winddog Whispers, 2018. All rights reserved.

Image: Pixabay.com

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Translucent Hope

New moon makes its way

Guided by Hand of Heaven

‘Cross mid-summer sky

Translucent hope shimmers, gift

Seems beyond reach…perhaps not

©B D Royale/Winddog Whispers, 2018. All rights reserved.

Image: Pixabay.com

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Altars (Acrostic)

Image ~ http://www.thebiblejourney.org/

♥†♥

Altars announce “God met me here”

Let it be known “this is hallowed ground”

Testimony of faith experience, supernaturally real

Altars flame with Holy Spirit’s anointing ~ as you approach,

Remove your shoes, be silent before the Lord God Almighty

Sovereign King saves, steadies souls surrendered to Him

©B D Royale/Winddog Whispers, 2018. All rights reserved.

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Melting At the Keyboard

Melting at the keyboard

Sweaty fingers lose their

Place on “home row”

Patience evaporates as

I type gibberish…

Unendurable, or so it seems

Intemperate temps

July, my love for summer

Is conflicted, far from easy

I’m struck anew each time

I look up to sky’s endless

Perfect blue, a glory

Incomprehensible

Gift of favor from God’s

Constant hand, His

Heart’s cornucopia

But too-bright happy sun

(Relentless, just doing its job

Oblivious as chatter-box child)

Pierces eyes accustomed to

Overcast horizon…

Craving, yearning, praying for

Breeze…cool caring breezes that

Tickle green leaves, tease trees

Till they, helpless to resist, dance

Regardless of heat I hold these months

—Late spring through autumn—

As treasures; try to fill my

Gaze, nose, skin, to the brim

Saturate soul so it won’t be bereft

Once the rains again begin.

©B D Royale/Winddog Whispers, 2018. All rights reserved.

Image: Pixabay.com

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Ghost In a Wishing Well*

*(Gordon Lightfoot, “If You Could Read My Mind”)

Trilling at Eventide

Birdsong signals his return

Old knight, denim-eyed

Armor dulled like pewter

Distance, decades gallant…

He has been her hideaway

From morning of her years, till dusk

In Winter’s deluge, silver weeping

August’s summer seeping musk.

Spring mists lift before his gaze—

Turn, let it linger, fall upon her.

Whenever he spoke

Music changed tempo’d beat

Hour on hour, she yet listens

Longing for ancient myths’ repeat.

As daylight drifts, drips clouds’ rosé,

Spills across late afternoon…

His fingertips touch, warm her blush

Paintbrush of remembered swoons:

Beneath a bower’d bougainvillea

Promises, palm-kissed plumeria

Innocent heroic love.

Distance, decades gallant…

Her knight, her hideaway.

©B D Royale/Winddog Whispers, 2018. All rights reserved.

Image: Pixabay.com

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