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Moms View Message Board: Short Stories, Poetry and Articles : Poems For The Season
The year is rusting, flaking fast away in tumbling swirling chips of fire fay. A puff of golden prances through the field and shivers branches disinclined to yield. The stately armies rows of corn shocks tall stand at attention in the fields of fall. The sunrise trundles sleeps awhile in bed and twilight burning gallops on ahead. The cricket chorus grand finale found ballet of fireflies curtain call with sound. The moon steals closer breathing starlit frost, as though still seeking summer evenings lost. Fall breezes conjure weave a perfumed spell send wind chimes dancing ringing summer's knell. B. V. Dahlen ©
The doorway's bathed in dimness of a pumpkin's flickering grin. The portal creaks ajar, but my feet will not go in. From somewhere deep within me a stuttered greeting trips. So hushed, these noises almost don't make it passed my lips. I trip towards promised treasures there in the yawning door. I could escape, but cravings prod me to the fore. Though fear engulfs my being I rise to this one feat. I hold my sack out towards the trove and stammer "Trick or Treat." B. V. Dahlen ©
We offer gratitude this day For blessings multiplied. We honor You with thankfulness For all that You provide: Our homes, our families and our lives Are given by Your grace. We feel protected by your hand, Contained in Your embrace. Our hopes our aspirations Are lifted for Your aid. You will not let us stumble In darkness sore afraid. So now we come before You. Our heads are bowed in prayer, And with appreciation We humbly declair That we as children of Your love Will in our turn provide For those who need assistance, Thus to be sanctified, For as brothers on this earth This family of man Is here to serve each other, To help us understand We all are images of God. His visage is our soul, And service to our brothers Is that which makes us whole. B. V. Dahlen ©
We offer gratitude this day For blessings multiplied, For family, fellowship and friends Who remain by our side Through many separations, And distances so vast That lesser love would be subdued. It's doubtful it would last. We share these bonds of feeling That stretch between our souls When distance separates us As we pursue our goals. But you have favored us with friends, And families that clutch Us close although we wander Around the globe so much. So Lord this day we offer thanks, And bow our heads in prayer. We recognise that You're the source Of all the love we share. B. V. Dahlen ©
I stand and watch the slowing days go tumbling into cooler rest, and wondering, lift my eyes to gaze on radiance which the world has dressed her sleepy landscape - all ablaze with hues that lift my heart, and I behold with wonder dappled days that herald nature's long goodbye. A funeral cortege clogs the lanes as watchmen line to gaze with awe. A mass of mourners ascertains and wonders at the year's withdraw. She robes herself in raiment fair to walk resisting to her bier, and gently as a whispered prayer, she lays to rest another year. B. V. Dahlen
For nature's pallet now revealed. For wood smoke in the air. For squirrels employed in harvesting To fill some lofty lair. For seedpods nodding in the fields Surfeit with guarantees Of future growth, a covenant The Lord of Life decrees. For leaves that crackle 'neath my feet, And skies of sapphire hue. The largess of your gifts, Oh Lord Each autumn you renew. The splendor of this dying year Brings peace into my heart. This miracle before me now, A favor you impart. The loveliness of harvest days I'll gather and I'll reap. Throughout the gloom of winter This grace my soul will keep. With gratitude I savor sights Of autumn's final spree, And praise your generosity In sharing this with me. B. V. Dahlen
The sky seems brittle, an inky dome of stars. Blued shadows stretching to reach the fence post spars. From night's last embers a chimney plume ascends with whiffs of maple the purest night air blends. Small creatures snuggle in burrows 'neath the snow Their dreamless slumber an undisturbed tableau. My crunching footfalls hang on the whispered wind. Pale moon suspended to heaven weakly pinned. A sharp crack echoes from branches laden high with ivory harvest gathered from the sky. Alone I wander in this dreamscape world to witness nature's cold beauty all unfurled. I stand in meekness in this realm so fair. My heart finds rest here in winter's midnight lair. B. V. Dahlen ©
So long ago and far away To Bethlehem of Galilee, On such a chilly winters day Came Joseph and his wife Mary. Oh they were weary cold and sore From traveling those many miles, And yet no room to rest they found, Just frowning faces and denials. ‘Til finally a gentle soul Conveyed them to a stable near Where they could rest a little while A place so bleak and so austere. Later that night the maiden fair Brought forth her first born in the hay, And Joseph knew they needed warmth. A tiny fire did he lay. He stirred the meager flame a while, And realizing that he should Find fuel to spark a steady fire Went searching through the town for wood. Up in the rafters of this place Were humble birds of umber hue. That watched with curiosity, Then nearer to the fire flew. They saw a wee babe shivering, While his poor mother tried in vain To warm him near that tiny fire By blowing on the coals again. They realized that they might aid The baby and his mother fair, So with their wings a fluttering Close by the fire, fanned the air. They made the embers start to glow, And warm the air a wee bit more. They flapped still harder and they made That tiny fire start to roar. The heat did cause the birds to feel Upon their breasts a rosy glow, But they continued beating wings To stir the fire , make it grow. Not too long after Joseph came To find the stable warm and tight, A sleeping babe in mother's arms, And embers glowing in the night. The Lord God looking down on high Said to the small birds roosting there "My gratitude you have this night." "For your great kindness you shall wear A crimson vest throughout all time, So all who look upon you see The caring that you showed my Son, Your love and generosity." And so when e're you spy this bird, Remember please his special worth, This robin red breast hopping by The roll he played at Jesus' birth. B. V. Dahlen ©
Our relatives are far away. Our bank book is running on low. We'd like to have them here with us, Or back to them we'd like to go. I feel the walls are closing in. The rooms in these quarters are small. The tree fills half our living room, And it's only five foot tall. Outside I can see that it's raining. Oh why can't there ever be snow! There is no school, and so the kids Have no where else to go. I hide inside my bedroom Wrapping the gifts that I've bought. The kids are banging on the door. There goes the peace that I sought. I'd love to sit and sip a cup Before a flickering fire, While listening to carols sung By some recorded choir. My neighbor knocks upon my door. We share a cup of tea. Relating tales of frustration, Tell where we'd like to be. "Back home", where all our families Will gather once again. We talk of former Christmases, And play "Remember when"? Those days when we were children Those memories we clutch Before we were responsible For housework, kids and such. The present breaks our reveres This rainy winter day Filled with squabbling children And a house in disarray. The smell of pine drifts by me. From the corner of my eye The twinkle of the tree lights Causes thoughts that mollify. Surrounded by clutter and chaos I gaze at my family with pride. What's important in life is around me. What matter's is here by my side. Who really cares where we are sent? Whether quarters dismay or astound? We'll always be home for the holidays When the ones we love most are around. B. V. Dahlen ©
Over there in the hay, Who is this I see Peeking from His manger bed Baby's eyes on me? Tiny, perfect, pink and new, Tightly wrapped in wool Savior in His swaddling bands In this stable full, Sharing closeness with a cow, Oxen, sheep and such. As I gaze I wonder how You loved me so much. Creatures there who saw Your birth, And warmed You with their sighs Lulled You into slumber With mooing lullabies Here I stand with empty hands. What then can I do? Aching with a mighty need Can I comfort You? I will make a cradle soft, Garments silky white, Warmth and peaceful ambience To soothe You on this night. Tiny babe, warmly sleep. In my heart You'll rest. There I'll cherish You each day As my honored guest. B. V. Dahlen ©
Familiar faces familiar voices blending together. Melodies floating like the scent of cinnamon, promising, teasing, poignant and hopeful The gift that I bring is my voice, joined with others in a melody soaring, conjuring memories, plucking heartstrings, lifting and lulling, offering carols and songs of the season. B. V. Dahlen ©
A still anticipation reigns. The joyful longing ends. We gather on this star filled night In the company of friends. The tapers flicker in the draft Of dark beyond the doors. Within these walls we warmly wait. The organ music soars. Poinsettias crimson catch the glow Of candles burning bright. The birth of Jesus calls us here To share this festive night. We join our voices with the choir. As joyous carols start. We welcome Him this Christmas Eve, To the cradle of our heart. B.V. Dahlen©
May winter nights be filled with stars For you to wish upon; A cloudless sunrise start your day With each and every dawn. May those you love be ever near, Or held close by your heart. May love be bound between you When you must be apart. May coming homes be numerous, And going outs be few. May holidays be spent with those Who mean the most to you. May joyful voices fill your home, And sounds of childish glee. May gifts of peace and happiness Be found beneath your tree. I wish you "Merry Christmas", And in the coming year May alleluias fill your heart, Your troubles disappear. B. V. Dahlen ©
Within the pit a stirring sounds. A lonely trumpet call Is joined by others rising proud; A golden chorus tall. A sprightly theme is introduced, Then swelled with sweeter sound, And with a robin's joyful trill The prelude now is crowned. While shyly spies a tulip To count the house on hand A hyacinth bedecks herself To make her entrance grand. Then shimmering, the almost green Pollen curtain parts, While harlequin pansies pirouette The youthful drama starts. Another year is struggling To start itself anew And nature takes her curtain calls Assured of good reviews. A dogwood audience applauds. Confetti pedals shower. Another hit is guaranteed And realized this hour. The authors, actors, dancers, bow, While all the world gives cheer. A huge success, this opening Of yet another year. B. V. Dahlen ©
Sing of joy. It's Spring, And all my hopes are flying Far, to that cloudless sky. My despondency vanishes In the perfumed breath Of spring breezes. Mother Earth begins her labor And bears this season Pregnant with possibilities. I rejoice, for I am born again In the promise of Springtime. B. V. Dahlen ©
I looked to the sky, There, a cardinal soared, A scarlet missile To the sun, Who's flaming rays Caught his splendor And blinded me As I watched The solitary flight. Creature of the winds, Carry with you My dreams and aspirations. Place them there On the altar of the sun My offering to Springtime. B. V. Dahlen ©
 PATRICK At a tender age this lad was bound, And carried far away Across the sea to a foreign shore, Much to his dismay. His captors used him as a slave. He tilled the fertile loam. He learned their language and their ways, While yearning for his home. One day an opportunity So suddenly was there, A chance for several to escape, An answer to their prayer. They found a way to leave those shores, A boat without a sail. They washed ashore in dreadful shape, Blown by a howling gale. No food nor shelter was in sight. It seemed the end was near. He led them in a fervent prayer, And hoped that God would hear. Out of the dark a herd of swine Came squealing into sight. They dashed into a hillside cave Upon that stormy night. Those who survived then scrambled up Into that warming hollow. The swine were sent by God to lead, And they knew they must follow. With food and shelter they survived To make their own ways home, But God had plans for our young man. He still had far to roam. He felt that he was being called. God had some special plan, So taking shelter with some monks.. His new life now began. Many years after that time, This man, a priest, ordained, Finally recognized his call .. The path for which he'd trained. He was ordained a bishop, And set out to return To where he'd been a slave before, To the place of that sojourn. He went with God's own blessing Across that storm tossed sea. He used a lowly shamrock to Explain the Trinity. And from his path the serpents fled. The druids hid in fear. The kings and chieftens listened. They knew he was sincere. He was a shepherd to his flock. He guided them with care. He taught them of his loving God, And of a Virgin fair. When his Lord Jesus called him home, And met him with a smile, Patrick became the patron saint Of that dear Emerald Isle. B. V. Dahlen ©
May you spend your days in sunshine. May your rainy days be few. May the good Lord walk beside you everywhere, in all you do.. May your true friends e're stand by you in your joys and in your sorrows. May the wishes that I send today, help to brighten your tomorrows. B. V. Dahlen ©
The sound of lapping waves That lulls us as we doze, The distant cry of gulls That pricks at our repose.. The cooling motor drones, A lullaby it seems. Surf sounds induce our sleep, And gently fill our dreams. B. V. Dahlen ©
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