Category Archives: Achievement

11 May 2013

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #106

By Poetic Bloomings

A funny thing happened on the way to our Prompt #107…

We stopped to present our Beautiful Blooms!

MARIE’S SELECTION:

What a fun time I had perusing these!  Even those of you who claim no funny bone came up with some fun reads.  Now, I must admit that Walt and I came thiiiiiiiiis close to choosing the same Bloom once again, as we have done only twice before.  However, my top two choices were completely hand-in-hand – each for different reasons – so I decided to offer this week’s Bloom to Connie Peters for her entertaining limerick.  This one has it all…

Rhyme: fun.

Humor: quirky.

Meter:  flawless.

Thanks for the chuckles, Connie!

 

Untitled Limerick by Connie Peters

There once was a man from Shanghai
Who married a witch on the fly.
When he wanted to munch,
he said, “Make me a lunch.”
Now he’s bologna on rye.

 

WALT’S CHOICE: 

The whole concept of using the punchline for inspiration was that my wife and I have started “speaking our own language,” using these truncated phrases as points of conversation. Quite simply, PUNCH LINE by Nancy Posey tells that exact story. We find our connections where we can and revel in the joy we communicate. Nancy earns my Bloom.

Punch Line (by Nancy Posey)

One benefit of long marriage:
our economy of words.
We’ve shared so many laughs
together that now
we need only speak
the punch lines
to explode into laughter:

That dog’ll bite you!
McGregor the wall builder. . .
Why do you ask, two dogs. . . ?
Ricky hold his own hand.
That your boots? Thatcher boots?

We speak in our own code,
consider ourselves hilarious.
The secret of long love lies
between the ears,
laughter as libido.

11 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms

4 May 2013

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #105

By Poetic Bloomings

Another case of a picture being worth a thousand words … or a couple thousand words. And if our perception is our reality, then our poets are as real as can be. We have been impressed once again and it never gets old. Applause and kudos to all writers of verse in this garden of love. BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS are presented to:

MARIE ELENA’S PICK:

Sometimes there is an abundant message and complete story spoken in few words, and their attending silence.  Of all the intriguing, charming, and poignant poems this week, none spoke more effectively than Paula Wanken’s tiny Picu, “Broken.”  Outstanding.

BROKEN  (by Paula Wanken)
(a piku)

All that’s left
is
an empty shell.

WALT’S CHOICE:

We thrive for the opportunity to break out of our shells and step into the world for which we have prepared. And any benefit we glean from our opportunity is all a matter of being at the right place; right time. No better expression of this than what has been proffered by the “flashpoetguy“ (everyone’s mentor, Salvatore Buttaci).  And when the time is right, we’ll know it!

WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT  (by flashpoetguy)

when the egg is broken
determines what you will find
breakfast yolk or gold chick

all of life is in the timing
those distractedly deaf
to the opportune knock

cannot go back in time
and kindly request
a second hearing

in that moment
when you can show kindness
do so without hesitation

#

Congratulations to Paula and Sal, and thanks to Barbara Young for the photo that inspired all of us this week!

12 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms, In-Form Poet

13 April 2013

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #102

By Poetic Bloomings

The BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS are in at POETIC BLOOMINGS!

MARIE ELENA’S BLOOM

Marjory’s photo inspired many excellent poems in a variety of styles, topics, and moods.  Thank you for sharing your photo with us, Marjory!

For this week’s Bloom, I chose to highlight “Silent Screams,” by Hannah Gosselin.  Hannah has a golden talent for using imagery to simultaniously paint both a scene and a mood.  Silent Screams is a superb example of this gift she has.  This excerpt blows me away:

“Last year’s grass
yellowed –
crisp with remembering
cried out,
tried to remind him.”

Hannah, we are blessed to count you among our regular bloomers.  Thank you for sharing your outstanding talent with us.

Silent Screams (by Hannah Gosselin)

Silken-slinking and black,
it inks the pavement in secret;
it creeps in a slow sheet.
A street so familiar
becomes a stranger
while he sleeps.
He’s early rising
and in rush of morning
he forgets that winter
still kisses the earth,
he fails to recall
that frost still lingers.
A fast fling
from car to woods,
the sound of his body
as it hits the ground
resounds through nature.
Last year’s grass
yellowed –
crisp with remembering
cried out,
tried to remind him.
Slow down sojourner!
Take care early traveler!
Beware, the ice crawls here!

Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

WALT’S CHOICE:

Circumstance don’t allow me to write a big explanation today. But this poem by Marian Veverka struck my interest and gets my BLOOM.

THE CURVE (by Marian Veverka)

It was like the whole school
Students, teachers, janitors
Had to see for themselves
Though the wreckers had come early
And the cops made sure no souvenirs
Lingered for the morbidly inclined.

We came at dawn
When the traffic was slow
Before the flowers and the notes
The girls who suddenly discovered
He had been their secret heartthrob all along
The Junior. mechanics and engineers who explained
What he should have done and why it had happened.
Sure.

The wreckers had finished and some insects
Were chirping in the grass like they always did
Later rain would fall and slowly the blood
Would sink down into the ground and the
Grass, like they used to say about battlefields
Would grow a bit greener, fresher…
A new sign would appear – maybe it would
Say 25 – 20 for all the good it did.

When some dumb kid with a new set of wheels
Had to see what they would do and where was there
A better place to find out than “Dead Man’s Curve?”

Outstanding work poets! Congratulations to Hannah and Marian!

16 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms

11 March 2013

THE PARTY’S STARTED! by Connie L. Peters

By Poetic Bloomings

The thought that life is a celebration becomes the manifest for a life well lived. A joy, an event, a real party… such is life. And from the day we’re brought into this life we realize this fact. The party’s started. This is the chapbook-memoir of Connie L. Peters. Step in and have a grand time. The party’s started!

THE PARTY’S STARTED by Connie L. Peters

Leave a comment | posted in Achievement, Chapbook, Memoir, Memoir Project

23 February 2013

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #95

By Poetic Bloomings

We find our inspiration in anyplace we encounter or look. Reading a newspaper or a magazine can offer ideas. Even the back of a cereal box can spark your muse. Thankfully, there were no poems written about Riboflavin! But in all this magnificence, we need to select the BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS:

MARIE ELENA’S CHOICE:

Marilyn Braendeholm’s “China Children” broke my heart in its sincere and moving depiction of the unthinkable:  children “unwanted at birth, and left in colder but steadier hands.”  The analogy drawn to the “fragile potted plants waiting for spring – sitting there still and unattended on bare benches, naked blank faces staring into candlelight” is almost more than I can bare.  There were many outstanding pieces this week, but this one grabbed my heart and did not let go.

CHINA CHILDREN (by Marilyn Braendeholm)

They remind me of fragile potted plants
waiting for spring – sitting there still
and unattended on bare benches, naked
blank faces staring into candlelight.
Their backs straight, feet rooted to the floor
under a long wooden table. A sturdy timber

cut on a bright green summer day, sliced
from a forgotten branch of antiquity, felled
and now held together by the press
of coughing chests against its old oaken
planks. This long table holds centre place
for these little ones, unwanted

at birth, and left in colder
but steadier hands.
These frail potted plants – pressing stares
of imaginary cakes on plates, want
for lack of sustenance that they need.
And as they gnaw on dried meat, all eyes

observe the door opening on the creak
of sore hinges, opened chills rushing
in scurries of flurried snow across the floor.
They know there’s no hiding from storms
that rage like mortal sin
beyond their cloistered walls.

Title from article about China’s social care and orphanages. The Telegraph newspaper.

(c) Misky 16/2/13

 

WALT’S SELECTION:

In reading the poems this week, I had narrowed them down to four that really caught my eye. More scrutiny brought me to two. And this choice was even more of a challenge. Then in reading further I knew why I could not separate the selections. Sometimes, we turn to another to learn nuances of a job or craft that when studied closely, they resemble that of the “teacher.”  So, my choice was to NOT separate them, but honor them together. The “student” found it within her to express herself in poetic terms as a recent epiphany. The “teacher” is reflected in her work. These two are indeed a “teacher – student” combination.

The student, Debi Swim, wrote:

Trust (by Debi Swim)

Some seeds need coaxing.
They learned not to trust
Fickle tempered fits
Of irrational
Unseasonable blitz -
now hot, now cold.

Some souls need coaxing.
They learned not to trust
easy smiles, blank eyes
broken promises
and smooth, oily lies –
I love only you.

http://bdtonline.com/lifestyles/x1633474269/Some-seeds-need-coaxing-to-sprout

Bluefield Daily Telegraph- Local Newspaper

***

The teacher is and remains, Salvatore Buttaci who offered:

A NEW LEASE ON A COWBOY’S LIFE (by Salvatore Buttaci)

At a time in my life when a fella should pause
From his labors and plan what’s the best
To enjoy his retir’ment, my sister, a wider named Tess,
All a sudden she passed. Lookin’ back, I was blessed.
But the story ain’t over; it’s comin’ the morn
An’ my nephew I reckon will move in for good.
Now what t’make of this turn of events?
I was walkin’ around like a man made o’ wood.

Did I mention my nephew’s a handful to raise?
“You’re my uncle,” he tells me, “no way you’re my dad.”
“Well, then, par’n me! Z’actly what makes you so mad?”
But he keeps hisself quiet, not tellin’ he’s scared
An’ I tell ‘im t’ give an ear, listen t’ me.
“All I want is t’ make you, boy, happy again.
And your mama in heaven, what would she say
If I failed in my mission? What would I do then?

Been some years since my sister Tess’s gone an’ her boy
Well, he worked out jus’ fine. Him an’ me in this place
We been cowboys ever since: seems I never could face
Not be working an’ take an old man’s retirement place
On the porch on a summer day jus’ watchin’ grass grow.
Me an’ Tommy, ya know we both keep ar’selves busy a tad.
We been raisin’ the finest o’ horses in Oklahoma
And that feller, Tess’s boy? Can ya b’lieve it? he calls me Dad!

————–

We come to find that Salvatore has been “tutoring” Debi in form and poetic structure. Thanks to Sal for providing the lead, and to Debi for having the good sense to follow. Congratulations to both who share my BEAUTIFUL BLOOM this week!  And to Misk for her equally well-deserved Bloom from Marie! 

————–

17 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms

9 February 2013

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #93

By Poetic Bloomings

We changed our perspective to write our poems this week — or should I say, we “lowered” our point of view. In choosing to write a children’s poem, we had tapped into our inner child and embraced these words. The results are varied and consistently well written. The BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS for this week:

MARIE ELENA’S  PICK:

What fun we had this week, didn’t we?  You all did a great job writing for children!  Several were exceptional, and should be sent out for publication.  For my bloom, I’ve chosen Kate Wilson’s “In the Wilds,” but could as easily have chosen her “Heartfelt Plea.”  It’s fun all the way through, with a great twist at the end.  What more would a kid want?  This should be set to a catchy, jingly tune and sung around campfires. ;)    When it comes to writing flawless fun for kids, it’s just hard to beat Kate.  Congratulations, K8e314!

In the Wilds (by Kate Wilson)

I’m the only one awake,
in the dark, dark tent,
in the tent, in the dark,
just me.

I’m the only one awake,
and I wish that I could sleep
but I can’t ’cause I really
have to—

Ohhhh….

My Uncle Jim is snoring,
so he must be sound asleep.
He’s louder than an angry
bumblebee.

My brother Jack is mumbling
and my sister is a corpse.
Me? I really, really, really
have to—

Ohhhh…

Mom said that I could wake her
if I had to go outside,
and she’d hold the flashlight steady
just for me.

But I don’t think I’m a baby.
I can do this for myself,
since I am the only one
who needs to—

Ohhhh…

I fumble for my shoes
in the dark, dark tent.
Where’s the flashlight? No, that’s only
Annie’s knee.

There it is. Now I’m set,
and I—shh!—unzip the flap,
but I do so wish I didn’t
have to—

Ohhhh…

Oh, this flashlight’s awful dim,
and it’s cold out here, and dark,
and there’s funny noises whispering
to me.

But I’m brave and I’m bold
and the night can’t frighten me
’cause I very, very much do
need to—

Ohhhh…

I wish I could remember where
my uncle dug that pit.
I guess I’ll just go find
a friendly tree.

I hope nobody minds.
I haven’t got a choice.
It’s like that when you’ve really
got to—

Ohhhh…

What’s that light, in the distance,
over there? It calls to me.
I stumble through the bushes
just to see.

It’s a porch—our back porch!
Such relief! I am saved.
Maybe afterwards I’ll see
what’s on TV….

WALT’S BLOOM:

I had (have) this battle with my daughter on a recurring basis. It has been the subject of a few of my own poems. But to put a childish twist to it and the poem becomes this homage to all of our youthful days and the rooms that were our sanctuaries and personal space. “Clean Your Room!” by Pamela Smyk Cleary earns this honor.

Clean Your Room! (by Pamela Smyk Cleary)

“What a disaster!” I heard her shout.
“Straighten this room, if you want to go out!
These toys and clothes, please, pick them up!
(Can’t argue with Mom, so I just muttered, “yup.”)

’Straighten it up’ – that’s what she said –
so I kicked my laundry beneath the bed,
and all the stuffed toys (my collection is vast)
went into the closet – really fast.
The rest of the toys? Couldn’t help myself –
I jammed them tight onto each book shelf.

Then I called her back to inspect the place,
but I still wasn’t done. (I could tell by her face.)
“Clean clothes stacked on the bed can’t stay –
and the Legos and books must be all put away,
or no computer and no TV!”
(That’s the threat she offered me.)

But, my closet was crammed – couldn’t shut the door,
and my bookshelves? Full of toys galore!
So the clothes & books & Lego blocks
I stuffed inside my big toy box.

Then I called her back to inspect once more,
and she smiled and… I ran out the door.
“The place looks good!” That’s what she said.
(I hope she doesn’t look under the bed.)

***

A special nod to Erin Kay Hope for her consistently good work week after week. In writing the children’s poem, she had an advantage of being the closest to the subject than the rest of us, and even for a youthful poem, she exhibits a sense of maturity in her works.

30 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms, Children

2 February 2013

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #92

By Poetic Bloomings

I was only a matter of time that POETIC BLOOMINGS had gone to the birds. And we have amazingly amassed nearly 600 poems/comments at this writing. We are growing by leaps and bounds and Marie and I couldn’t be more pleased. You are all the reason that this place flourishes like it does. Thank you all for your continued support, encouragement and most importantly, your talents. To the BLOOMS:

MARIE ELENA’S BLOOM

Being a bird lover, I enjoyed this prompt immensely.  So many different birds represented, and so many poetic voices!  As difficult as it was for me to choose just one, The Kingfisher by Seven Acre Sky is poetry at its best, in my humble opinion.  I’d love to close my eyes and hear this read in an easy, lulling voice, with the sound of the river bubbling in the background.  Thank you, Damon, for freely sharing your talent with us week-after-week.

The Kingfisher by Seven Acre Sky

The river slides like time away,
the button-willows’ branches sway.
My boat slides through a silence vast,
as gray-sky, whispering, overcast,
asks if I’d put my oars aside
and look
and hear
and pray
and glide.

I do.

A chattering from the brushy shore
draws mind and eyes and ears and more–
yes, draws my heart–to a flash of blue,
that flies from limb to branch. I view
a fisherman at the river’s side.
Blue crest,
black beak,
minnow
his pride.

I see.

I feel his pride, his royal content.
He’s satisfied. The dives’ intent–
the minnow that he sought to seek–
is clasped within his hungry beak.
I take my rod and reel and fly,
throw out
my line
breathe deep,
and sigh.

I fish.

UPDATE:  If anyone comes back out here, they will certainly enjoy hearing Damon recite Kingfisher here:  https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/50183408/The%20Kingfisher.mp3.

It’s as wonderful as I envisioned.  THANK YOU SO MUCH, DAMON! 

WALT’S CHOICE:

For one who writes to a blog “One Inch Tall”, this poet writes some big things and sometimes in a small amount of space. Catherine Lee has presented a rather haunting (yes, that word has been sprinkled throughout the comments on her piece) prose poem. We can all relate to the “albatross” around our necks in our daily lives, be it  job related, or health issues, family struggles or whatever else brings us down. The beauty of the angst expressed here is what had grabbed me and so, I have chosen Catherine’s poem for my BEAUTIFUL BLOOM. In her words:

“This is my halting attempt at prose poetry with nods to both Coleridge and C.S. Lewis.”

ALBATROSS by Catherine Lee

I used to pretend that I was different, that I wasn’t born with it around my neck, but the smell of death was strong as hell, stinging my eyes like sinking ships. Through a blur of salt and pain, I saw the shadow of another pair of wings stretching east to west (or maybe top to bottom?) across the blackened sky. They reached with hands that knew my name, knew the whitewashed hollow I’d become. He took away the dying things, the cages I had fashioned into shiny things, to plant something beautiful and green inside the ashes.

18 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms, birds

12 January 2013

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #89

By Poetic Bloomings

Walt’s prompts tease the muse week, after week, after week.  Your responses to this week’s brilliant twist on an old theme ran the gamut, and all were simply splendid.  You make it so hard to choose a single poem!

MARIE ELENA’S BLOOM:

After much reading and re-reading, I decided to highlight “Melvin’s best” by Andrew Kreider.  This poem is in true Kreider style and humor, and tells a full story in three short stanzas.  Can you tell which words were mandatory?  Probably not, because it flows flawlessly.  Andrew, thanks for the chuckles!  This “Bloom” is for you.

 Melvin’s best (by Andrew Kreider)

Melvin, what in tarnation did
you all put in this hooch?
It sure ain’t your run-of-the-mill
passion prune juice. No sir.
That stuff is so strong, it could make
the good General himself

fall straight out of his saddle.
I poured a couple of shots for
me and Connie at sundown
and last thing I remember is her
ample pulchritude swimming
before my eyes, as you might say.

I can’t hide it from you, old friend,
I thought I’d done my last rodeo.
But Connie, what a woman.
When I came to, she just looked down
at me on the kitchen floor and laughed:
“That’s strong stuff…Hit me again!”

WALT’S CHOICE:

Iain Douglas Kemp – Congratulations!

The Silent Devotion of the Sergeant-at-Arms (by Iain Douglas Kemp)

The ORDEAL had its BEGINNING so long ago,
so long it has become ROUTINE,
his HEART hidden by a VEIL of service
and serenity.

He lays down his cloak that she may pass dry-footed.
He lays down his sword that she may sleep without fear.

Each SUNSET brings the same dream,
the same forlorn, empty hope
vanishing with the dawn
and stoicism

He lays down his sorrows that she may live in trust
He lays down his aspirations that she may rule respected

With cunning ART he ignores her perfume
as he QUAFFS of her RADIANCE.
Dedicated to his Queen until
the BITTER END.

12 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms

29 December 2012

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT #87

By Poetic Bloomings

“Visions of sugarplums” is just a nice way of bringing your muse out to play, on Christmas Eve or the crest of a new fallen snow. Our poets offered worded wonder of a wistful nature to express just that!

MARIE ELENA’S BLOOM

These sugar plum offerings were a joy to read!  Couldn’t we repeat this prompt week-after-week-after-week?   I would like nothing more than to offer each and every one of you my single Beautiful Bloom this week, but I must behave.  ;)  Claudette Young, I offer my Bloom to you for “Small Things.”  Your words capture the spirit of joyful giving, and humble expectations.  What sweeter dreams could befall us?  Your last stanza says it all.  Beautifully lived; beautifully penned.

Small Things (by Claudette Young)

We all gathered,
Diverse women in hall,
Sewing chatting defining
Ourselves by hand and
Purpose for that season.

Scraps of fabric we cut
In boot style, big enough
For goodies and trimmed
With spare lace or ribbon,
And jingles bells on cuffs.

Amid laughter and learning
We placed our care into
Myriad small person futures
To carry their hopes forward,
To know someone else cared.

When those bright stockings
Overflowed with pencils and
Prizes, alongside fruits and nuts.
They traveled horseback to
Hillsides, caves, and home sites

Where children of sparse fortune
Celebrated with less expectation,
Knowing life gave them small
Things to appreciate and
Possibilities for surprising cheer.

WALT’S BLOOM:

A wispy midnight vision wrapped in a flannel and giving inspiration to the muse of these works of sheer art. Our “sugarplums” dance on the out reaches of our thoughts and none more ethereal than this piece by JANET MARTIN.  There is lilting quality to this poem and the rhyme ties it all together!

A SUGAR PLUM… by Janet Ruth Martin

Silent night
A froth of white
Sifts from the lower cloud
It wraps the earth
In sparkling mirth
Redemption’s spotless shroud

Heavenly peace
Mankind’s release
From worldly weariness
Where all is calm
Held in the Palm
Of Perfect Love’s caress

Whisper of prayer
Wings through the air
Past midnight’s star-kissed seas
Where God imparts
To love-worn hearts
Life’s tender memories

© Janet Martin

CONGRATULATIONS CLAUDETTE AND JANET!

11 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms, Inspiration

22 December 2012

BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS – PROMPT # 86

By Poetic Bloomings

Say it with music. This week we explored music as our muse, finding a “Sound of the Season,” and using that inspiration to pen our poems. The varying results are astounding. The choices are as always, difficult. But we carry on. Here are this week’s BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS.

MARIE ELENA’S BLOOM:

To my own discredit, there are times (probably far too many) when I do not take the time to slowly draw in and savor the work of the extraordinary poets easily accessible to me.   All I can say is that I’m thankful I took the time this morning to slowly breathe in and relish Jane Shlensky’s “Adoration.”  The poetic beauty and multiple layers of this piece are simply remarkable.  Oh, to pen such eloquence …

ADORATION by Jane Shlensky

We shook our heads when she returned
from walking woods, as often she did,
each time carrying some treasure of burl
or mistletoe, Indian Pipe or sassafras root.

This time she dragged a young maple
dry and stripped of leaves, killed
in its spring, torn from the ground,
its slender trunk splintered like bone.

She stood it in the greenhouse, a skeleton
surrounded by greening seedlings, its bark
slowly curling away in ribbons from white
smoothness beneath. At advent, she built

for it a stand and hung from its naked limbs
fluffs of Spanish moss. Each spray of twigs
stretching like fingers of an empty hand
outstretched, she filled with a bird’s nest,

song birds of wood and clay perched
among the branches, a single dove lighting
on the highest limb, its wings lifted as if
it carried in its claws the hope of the world.

The holy family assembled at the foot of the tree
around an empty manger, poised to adore the newborn,
kneeling, bearing gifts, nudging the animals aside
for a glimpse of his light. But where was he?

The child, already in flight, nested aloft, hardly
bigger than the blue eggs that surrounded him.
He was risen among wild things that offered him
the gift of themselves, their ode to joy a chorus

of birdsong cradling his dreams. Each year
we dreamed of receiving, of fir trees smelling
of evergreen, our visions flightless. She saw
the broken and dead and dreamed of resurrection.

Her tree, no more than a memory now, returns to me
each Christmas, each Easter, each walk through woods,
each flutter and tweet of birds at my feeder, and
I am brought to my knees in humility, in adoration.

WALT’S SELECTION:

In the past week there has been much talk of “Angels” – a common description of the innocent souls who were taken from us so young. And it seemed to be a shared inspiration for our poets this week. I chose this poem from all the great entries because it is a wonderful expression of the season, and well… because it was the first one to present angels as a theme. At that, I present this BEAUTIFUL BLOOM to Salvatore Buttaci. Congratulations Salvatore, and Merry Christmas!

ANGELS FROM THE REALMS OF GLORY by Salvatore Buttaci

Those who remained behind
Gathered about the throne of God
Glorifying His gift
to the world of humanity
While angels sang praises
On Earth to the newborn infant,
His Son, the Word made flesh
To dwell among us for a time

Angels from the realms of glory,
All the saints who had died
Loving and living God’s commands,
Watched from heavenly heights
A child wrapped in swaddling clothes,
His mother sweet Mary,
His foster father good Joseph,
The donkeys braying.

A promise God had vowed
Long before time and space began
He kept at Bethlehem
In a stable, beneath a star
He sent twinkling above
The shepherds, the wise men, the world
That was changed forever
When the Infant drew his first breath

16 comments | posted in Achievement, Beautiful Blooms, Celebration, Inspiration, Music

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