Tag Archives: Poetry

Poetry Fridays!

April Rain

The April rain, the April rain,
Comes slanting down in fitful showers,
Then from the furrow shoots the grain,
And banks are fledged with nestling flowers;
And in grey shaw and woodland bowers
The cuckoo through the April rain
Calls once again.

The April sun, the April sun,
Glints through the rain in fitful splendour,
And in grey shaw and woodland dun
The little leaves spring forth and tender
Their infant hands, yet weak and slender,
For warmth towards the April sun,
One after one.

And between shower and shine hath birth
The rainbow’s evanescent glory;
Heaven’s light that breaks on mists of earth!
Frail symbol of our human story,
It flowers through showers where, looming hoary,
The rain-clouds flash with April mirth,
Like Life on earth.

Mathilde Blind


Poetry Fridays!


She Walks In Beauty 

She walks in beauty, like the night
   Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
   Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
   Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
   Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
   Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
   How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
   So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
   But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
   A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron (George Gordon)

Poetry Fridays!

Petals & Things

“It’s my very favorite time of year
Yes it’s spring, oh glorious spring
The world is alive with changes
Like delightful petals and things

Precious tiny leaves peek out
All along the branches
Buds are getting braver now
Flowers about to take chances

Color is fresh and new again
The fragrance wafts in the air
Gives us hope for tomorrow for
There is not so many cares

For nature is filling in the voids
Without a single string
Let’s enjoy what spring gives us
Like wonderful petals and things!”

Marilyn Lott

Source: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/petals-things/

Poetry Fridays!


Be Thou exalted over my reputation
‘Cause applause is a poor form of soul medication

And I’ve tried it for years but my symptoms remain
Still fretting the day that they’ll misplace my name
Still selling my soul for American fame
Treating the promotion of Jesus like a well oiled machine
Advancing His kingdom just to snag some acclaim

Now, I’m both comforted and haunted that it isn’t just me though
I see a nation of people needing to feed their own egos
Parading status like steeples
Do we not know it’s evil to love ourselves
More than both God and His people?

But see, here’s where You turn this poem on it’s head
‘Cause the greatest among us came as servant instead
And You humbled Yourself to the point of Your death
Apparently love for the Father’s glory runs red

So friends, will we point to the Son till our own flames grow dim?
Will our bright lights become merely night-lights near Him?
Words echo once, let them echo again
Be Thou exalted over my reputation

Jimmy Needham

At World’s End

I realized that in all the craziness of my life that I missed last Friday’s poetry post! So I decided to make it up by writing my own poem for you all! Life often goes up and down like a roller coaster — So this is for anyone who feel’s like they’re at the world’s end and hanging on by a thread. Though you may feel all alone, there are always people to fall back on. Friends. Family. We love you. Never give up!

At World’s End

At world’s end, I stand on the edge

Wind roars from behind me

And threatens to throw me

Over the edge.

At world’s end, I ask you to lend

Open hands and eyes to see.

The pit lies before me;

Send me a friend.

At day’s end, I cannot hold on.

There’s one hope that can be

That someone’s come for me

Catch me — I’m gone.

c. Annika Barclay

Poetry Fridays!

Over the land is April, 
Over my heart a rose;
Over the high, brown mountain
The sound of singing goes.
Say, love, do you hear me,
Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain,
Love, do you hear me sing?

By highway, love, and byway
The snows succeed the rose.
Over the high, brown mountain
The wind of winter blows.
Say, love, do you hear me,
Hear my sonnets ring?
Over the high, brown mountain
I sound the song of spring,
I throw the flowers of spring.
Do you hear the song of spring?
Hear you the songs of spring?

Robert Louis Stevenson

Poetry Fridays!

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening 

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Robert Frost