Uncertainty: Poetry by Susan Elliott

(c) Clarita

I.

I carried the future with you:
promises,
dreams,
expectations.

II.

Those first few months I learned who you were,
and you learned the soft thump of my heart.
I remember you running hand to hand
gently touching everything in sight for support.
You were strong and beautiful.

Time pushed forward I learned who you were,
and you learned the grasp of my hand.
I remember you singing and clapping
carefully turning your hands to butterflies.
You were kind and wonderful.

As if in a whirlwind I learned who you were,
and you learned my devotion.
I remember you striving
through year after year
you were a leader and leading.

III.

Yet, the looking glass has darkened; I don’t know who you are,
and somewhere you’ve forgotten who carried you this far.
I see that your lost, confused, alone,
but unwilling to harken
you won't look toward home.

So I sit and I pray, as time rushes by
my heart full of pain, tears concealing my sight.
That someday you’ll turn and look toward me
and know when you’re drowning
you don’t have to be.

The lamp that was lit in your tender heart
is waiting to burn, you carry the spark.
I beg that you listen and look to his light.
The Savior is waiting.
He calms the night.

Phenomenal Woman by Susan Elliott

Maya Angelou once stated
where her secret lies,
wasn’t in her fashion,
stature or her size,

she believed she knew the secret
so with a siren cry
she elevated woman
rebuked the world’s disguise.

Though her thoughts are poignant,
truthful in many ways,
the real phenomenal woman
is hard to find today.

She’s not found in her beauty,
movement or her grace,
not recognized by her stunning smile
though brilliantly displayed.

She is known in her gentle kindness
temperate in her ways.
She teaches of her Savior,
lives within His grace.

(C) Susan Elliott

Heart Song: Poetry by Susan Elliott

I woke up this morning
with a tear in my eye
a heart sore and wounded,
yet unable to cry.
But as I lifted my head,
from its place of rest
I turned to the Lord
finding bittersweet solace.
In the breath of the moment
I reached out to God
thanking Him for loved ones,
the paths that I’ve trod,
for the life that I have,
and the world around me.
But, pausing in thought,
and still locked in my grief.
It took only an instant
to ask for reprieve.
While burdened in heart,
I thanked most of all
that I can turn to Him.

He picks me up when I fall.

© Susan Elliott

The Copy by Susan Elliott Featured Poem From Every Flaw Every Perfection December BOM

Every Flaw Every Perfection is my fourth collection of poetry and the December book of the month club book. Below is a featured selection from the book.

The following poem is written from a writer's perspective and is one of my favorites. In fact, it was written based on my character Karn who is the hero of the novel I'm currently writing.


The Copy

He whispers my name
though a world away
just as alive as
the man sleeping beside me.
In truth,
the one I hold; the archetype
is so much more than his phantom.
I lean upon him, my muse.
I draw from his eyes
his hands,
his smile,
and create the copy.

Doubt: Poetry by Susan Elliott

I love being a Christian. I love knowing that I can cast my cares and burdens on God (I Peter 5:7), and I know that even in the darkest day he will be there for me (Psalm 23). I am loved. I am cared for. God has a plan for me -- even when I can't see it (Jeremiah 29:11). I know assuredly the God sent his son and his son, the Christ, bore my sins on the cross (I Peter 2:4), and in his blood I am forgiven.

There are some who don't know this peace; this joy (Philippians 4:7). They live their lives balancing on the raggedy edge, on the precipice of death and destruction.  Today, I am writing to you. You who are struggling with addiction. You who knows the pain of poverty. You who believe all hope is lost. Hang on!  I want you to know that all hope is in God, and that you can reach out to him and he will answer. Cast your burdens on God. If you're not a New Testament Christian check out the article, What Must I Do to Be Saved?

I wrote the following poem about a person who had lost hope because of secularism. So much of the world is lost in secularism and humanism, but can't even see it. Don't ever lose hope!

-Susan

Doubt

Humanity reasons
no one wants to
hear your complaints.
Console yourself, look to potential;
the elevation of the human spirit.

Everyone
feels weighted down
by the unjust world. You’re
not alone in grief
just alone in the cosmos.

You, sitting there,
nursing your pain
allowing it to grow,
consuming your all
whitewashing your highly evolved state.

You never turn to God,
for you know; reason,
that He is not there.
However, a growing emptiness
cannot be filled
by your work, art,
education. You’ve tried.

Suicide calls softly,
desiring to hold your hand.
Hastily you reach out.
Why not end it?
It’s a matter of choice, and decided.

He watches you,
knowing before the knife crosses
your precious wrist, that you’ve
made your decision,
knowing before even you.

Miss Grace comes to mind,
as the cold steel blade touches your
hot skin, stalling your determination.

How much did he love you?

She is wearing a blue suit,
hair drawn into a pony tail.

He loved you this much.

Her eyes smile warmly into yours.
She opens her arms,
and hangs herself on an imaginary cross.

(c)Susan Elliott

Picking Wildflowers: Featured Poem From Every Flaw Every Perfection December BOM

For More Info Click the Picture

As I've previously posted I thought I'd let you read at your own pace this month and in place of a reading schedule I will be posting a weekly poem. After the last poem I posted, one of the readers stated how much she loved Picking Wildflowers, so I thought I'd share it with you.

It was written for my Papa Carl Amidon just a few weeks before he died. He had asked me if I remembered bringing him bouquets of wildflowers, and I wanted him to know not only did I remember that, but that he had made a huge impact on my life.

So, I wrote the poem Picking Wildflowers. I truly hope you enjoy it, and if you haven't gotten your copy of Every Flaw Every Perfection, look for it on Amazon. It's available in print and Kindle edition.

Picking Wildflowers 

For years I had a recurring dream.
The sun was bright and warm, and
I was free-falling, falling somewhere familiar
but forgotten; and, in that dream
you were there waiting for me
encouraging me to do it over and over again.

With each free-fall came a resounding splash,
and the reward of fresh watermelon.
When I told you, I saw the surprise in your blue eyes,
the soft smile on your lips,
and you said that was us at Third Bootie;
and I, I couldn’t have been
more than two you thought,
but I remembered.

It seems only a day has passed since
we sat together in your old blue pick-up truck,
driving off together in the cool of the early morning, and
living our next adventure.

We traveled all those back roads,
just the two of us,
sometimes hocking watermelons,
peaches, or tomatoes along the way.
What a pair we made.

I could tell countless stories;
boarding up the creek so I could swim,
setting up targets so I could shoot,
hunting for night crawlers for fishing trips, and
you encouraging me, a little tone deaf girl, to sing.

Papa, I could go on and on,
and there still wouldn’t  be enough
days or hours to tell the stories alive in my heart,
but what means the most to me
is not the stories I could tell, not my memories.

What matters most is that you are a part of me,
and I will always take that with me
no matter where I travel, or the things I do.

Because of you,
I’ll always have a field of buttercups at my feet
and an Indian paintbrush in my hand, picked just for you.

You once asked,
if I remembered bringing you bouquets of fresh wildflowers,
How could I forget, Papa?

Walk With Me by Susan Elliott

Public Domain

I’ve never seen your face before,
but I know you just the same.
You long to know our Father.
You long to lose your pain.

I once was just like you–
traveling a dusty road,
but, my weighty heart was lightened.
Now my Savior bares the load.

He longs to be your Savior
to walk with you, hand in hand,
to follow Him to glory
to enter His Promised Land.

My life is such a blessing,
because I’m walking with the Son.
And your life can be blessed, too,
once your walk with Him’s begun.

© Susan Elliott

Who his ownself bore our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins,should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes you were healed. I Peter 2: 24