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Poems about Renewal and Renaissance

Life?s Elixir

Come,
Fill thy cup
Taste of Life?s Elixir
Drink deep of the sweetness,
Yet in thy haste,
Let not one drop
Of the bitterness of sorrow
Be waste
As the Potter moulds his clay
So is sorrow
The Sculptor of the Soul.

 


Love One Another

Love one another
Use every day
To do a little kindness
As you pass along the way.

Give a smile, wipe a tear
Lighten someone?s burden
Soothe away a fear.

Life is but a testing quest
To lift the soul
And withdraw the best.

 


Oh Peace

Oh peace,
That I should know thee,
Come ? calm the tortuous contours
Of my half demented brain.

Peace ? the priceless pearl mid?st mankind
I know thee not.
Yet ? I have thee sought
In every manner of place and kind.
I crave thy gentle fingers as a balm
To soothe my tortured mind.
Shall?t I never know thy peace?
Shall?t I never rest
Until I end this quest?
And thy very presence I will know
When thou will?t tell my soul.

 


Behold - The Cross of Gold

Behold ? the cross of gold
Shimmering before thine eyes,
Showing thee the road so chosen
The one that leads to paradise.

Trodden at times, down the ages,
By many weary, aspiring souls,
Be they of simple mind,
Or wise sages all travelled far,
To reach their goal.

 


O Joyous Life

O joyous life, so good to live,
Not mine to take, but yours to give.
Each day I live, it?s plain to see,
I?m not all I ought to be.

Let not my soul become corrupt
With material things that turn to dust.
Remind me Lord, my soul?s on trust.
Corrode not my mind with greed and lust.
Let my thoughts be sweet and pure.
Help me to tolerate, and endure.

 


Ode to a Second Hand Bed

How many have clasped thee
In sickness and death?
How many have clung
In tears of distress?
How many cried out
In labour and pain
All for the birth of a bairn?

How many have tossed
On this mattress of straw?
The lovers, the lonely.
It?s held them all.
So many dreams, this bed could recall.

If it had a voice,
How it could tell,
Of the heights of the heavens
The depths of the hells

How many have lain
In this cradle of straw?
How many - in peace and content?
So many souls,
Rested, restored, from being spent

In this haven of rest our Lord has sent,
We awake to the morning,
By God?s good consent.

 


Cragfoot Cottage

Great bowl of Tarn - overflow
Sour Milk Ghyll
Tumbles and roars
A torrent - pounding fast - downhill
Yet - from a distance
Looks almost still.

Cascading waters - ribbon white
Gleam in dark November light
Resembling some artist?s masterpiece
?Still Life?

Nature?s gift to Red Pike
A living crevice - an awesome sight
Spewing forth - froth and foam
Like lava, petrified to marble stone.

On other hills, rivulets have joined to spill
In a network of knurled knotted veins
They span as if across the back
Of some great God-made hand
With fingers spread so wide
Nothing stems this rushing, downward tide.

River and lake are joined as one
Stony, shore, bank and field
Needs must yield.
Drowned in a watery grave - nothing saved
Trees stand deep in waters high and sigh
Bare, helpless, tangled arms reach up
?Heaven help us? they cry.

Land - reclaimed and planted new
With seedlings young and frail.
Nature has claimed back her own.
Alas, man?s puny efforts fail
Erosion will prevail.

But, nature?s built an ingenious dam
As only nature can
And quietly laughing up her sleeve
At so clever man.

She?s mustered all her fallen leaves
With wind at her command
And arranged them all like soldiers
In a most strategic row
And thro? this decaying barricade
She controlled the water?s flow.

When winter rains and wind abate
The basin will recall the lake,
She will relinquish field and shore
Returning it to man once more
Leaving - chaos in her wake.

He will come back, with tools in hand
And begin again to reclaim the land.
He?ll plant and sow and watch it grow
With the yet unborn in mind.
Conserve, preserve this patch of earth
For them one day to find.

 Spring in Buttermere


 

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