Watt's Well

Room to Be, Space to Create

Category: Poetry (page 1 of 2)

Day 17-18:: Lowcountry Lights

The time of year where the sun shines different and the moon makes an early appearance.

Mountains with their orange, yellows, and ambers whisper a subtle invite of get-a-way adventure.

Tea time comes earlier in the evenin’ under orange sky and brisk air.

Kitchens smell of cinnamon and spice as the oven toasts the baker’s cheeks.5FF40FEC-DF68-45B2-A051-B4230D397017.JPG

Mornings clothe the jogger in a jacket, yet noon day reminds him of summer’s end.

Rows of pumpkins strewn out for the picking, artists awaiting their canvas.

Sea breeze feels crisp as the shoreline runs with a promising break.

Farmers take their last pick and make their beds for another prize.

Leaves crunch under stout young men’s feet as they wrestle to the ground.

Rains pause for a brief moment, suspended in clouds until looming frigid months.

Chocolate covered sticky hands are wiped on levi’s before mom can wipe up the mess.

IMG_0539.JPGTired eyes fall asleep as embers fade, smokey perfume lingering ’til mornin’

Neighbors huddled around picnic tables shuckin’ and sharing a beer.

Pecans fought for as squirrels scamper and grandmas whisk.

Porches fill with friendly faces, hammocks hang from palms with bundled beans swinging.

Poured over with gravy shrimp lay on fluff, served morning and night.

‘Tis the time of year the light hits the Lowcountry on her softer side.

 

 

 

Day 3:: The Ups of Downs

A little light,
shaking within.
Shaking without,
Nerves be calm.

A thought,
world untraveled.
World discovered,
Dreams find rest.

A call,
desire chased.
Desire laid up,
Moments in stillness.

 

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Somedays there are not many words.  Despite our volume, we reflect our inner fights.

When we turn to Him in the midst of our battling, He is faithful to show that He is right beside us fighting on our behalf.

What is your outward behavior reflecting about your inner state of being?  In an honest still moment would you let Him see?  He is faithful to show you something in return.

For seeing eyes

Who will love? Who will see? 

They do not look like you, nor do they look like me. 

Awake, o sleeper–

You’ve barricade yourself behind a wall. While those who came to feast are left out to starve. 

Give them scraps you say, from over high walls. 

How about unlock your gates, demolish the partition. 

Let the hungry come eat. Sit them on your left and on your right. 

To the least who thinks he is nothing, sit him at the head. 

Honor him as worthy. Take it in, watch love grow.

“Fearless in Love”

These waters are unstable, roughly unpredictable.
A keen eye should be kept to the bow.
Hand clenched on the side of the wooden vessel,
for a moment i take in its grain, its make.

Been in such waters before.
Her sail let loose in a slap,
took more than one pair to wrestle that white.
Even now something unexpected begins to stir.

Out in the distance a figure,
a man. My heart least expects,
Kind eyes I see, in the midst of violent waves.
Smiling soft lips move to his calm words.

I’m drawn, compelled.
Calm down oh soul, what if
its not him. Yet he waits.
Welcoming me to join him among the shifting waters.

Tides and waves, boats and sails;
what are you compared to this love.
No mind do I give you,
for you are nothing compared to.

Rise I do. Hand free of wooden barricade.
Look these feet walk over too. It is He I see.
Yet what if these eyes deceive me.
The wet I feel all around me.

Rough hands to which I do cling.
Oh yes it is surely he.
Lovingly he raises me,
and together we dry in the hull.

In and Thru

Can you see? It runs through young veins.  Brave catawba showing through as the sun caresses me.  Leave me here for a while, content I will be.  Salt air breathed in deeper, richer.  Winds whisp me away to where water pounds on rock.  Scoop me up to behold the sea creatures dancing with one another.  Home to this heart is sand between these toes. Let my eyes gaze on the horizon as heaven kisses earth.  Hear. Here, angels wait to minister to wandering sailing souls.  Mine gladly receives once again.

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Colorful Expression 

  
Stirring in my heart not yet broken free.

Do you see here in me?

It’s going to violently come forth,

Splatter vibrantly upon this blank.

Believe me for I have hope for us both. 

What swirls as so, cannot be withheld…

Heard Prayer

You know my struggles in lone oneness.

You know my desires both holy and detracting.

Save me oh Lord, speak tenderly to my soul.

In need of some relief from the ebbing ache within.

Do not let me merely brush away rather help me stay.

Stay with you, I am seen.  You fill all in All.

Stay, with my heart in gentle hands. It’s bled much, beats ever strong.

Credit to Grace to remain loving, and Mercy for covering my wandering.

Be true Father for this little growing girl needs you.

Direct and reveal, sure. Above all keep me sitting, enjoying daily bread before me.

Peace of yours be mine, it is thine daughter’s inheritance.

Joy and Gratitude abounding at the table with you.

Speak dearly Lord Jesus, I will lean in to hear the only purely beating heart.

 

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Fresh wind in my sails

I saw Him standing before me with a tender smile upon his face. He approached. Before I knew what had taken place there was this big part of what I believed to be me in his hands. It appeared to be a solid stone birthed from the soil of the earth. A common pebble only a child would find significance in. On this stone was written a word I had not thought of in a long while: victim-less. It was hard to decipher; was this one word or two?

I realized I could not raise my right arm for long, as if my strength had failed. Not only so, I feared my chest would collapse if I held my hand in the air at length. I looked and found the place from which the stone really came. A hole straight through my body just below my right shoulder spanning mid-way down my torso was left in place of the earthen stone. The gapping hole looked weak, unsupported, softly vulnerable.

Then I saw as if the zoom lens had been spun, him working in the hole of emptiness. His hands moved as a skilled mason, creating walls of support. Smoothly cementing the walls of my chest hole so that the tissue around would be held up and not cave in. Already I felt life flow returning to the muscles of my arm.

But he left the hole and giggled in joy as he did. He had no intention of sealing it up with cement. I could feel wind blowing through me. I saw him rather proudly full of laughter reach his arm through the cement lined hole and out the other side of me. It brought him a ridiculous amount of pleasure.

Then I saw something so out of place it made me glance twice. Out of the cement through the tiniest of cracks peaked greenery on all sides. My mind befuddled, I thought, “I haven’t even soil in me to grow such lush green”. So there I stood gapping in amazement at the hole in my chest filing with green life. Things that appeared as trees grew.

I looked at him as he delightfully smiled back at me. His eyes were soft yet full of adventure. And he said, “Do you wanna see?”. Before I could answer I could see through his perspective, as if in his very body. I was starring, from his eyes, through the hole in the bodily form of me. I did not see the wall behind where my body stood. But instead beyond the thick bright brush I saw a world bigger and brighter than I had ever seen. A stream wrapped down the rich landscape with rolling mountains to one side and a beautiful colorful sun dancing its light upon the clouds on the far side.

I returned to my body, but as I did I heard him expectantly believing. He said, “Show them eternity, Lauren Elizabeth.”

  

     He is waiting to speak over you. It is you who are more than enough through the Son. More than a conquerer, you are being made brave. He removes what does not bare fruit that lasts because he excitedly desires the finest of foods for you. Filthy rich in mercy is this jovial king. Rest assured your mind will be blown; he does not dissapoint. He reaches from earth into eternity. Why not through you? He will show you things you cannot imagine, grow things you never thought could bare life. Come Lord stand before us, we want to see.

Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
set these once-broken bones to dancing.
Don’t look too close for blemishes,
give me a clean bill of health.
God, make a fresh start in me,
shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
Don’t throw me out with the trash,
or fail to breathe holiness in me.
Bring me back from gray exile,
put a fresh wind in my sails!

To Find

“Blessing For the Unknown One”

One day our eyes will intertwine.
Respectfully we shall meet,
full like no other greet.
Find yourself hidden in Who is.
In that hiding we will find
this treasure we’ve been patiently awaiting.
Bless you now forevermore.
To Him ’til we meet.

-LW October 9, 2015

We are not defined by our past. None the less the past seems to ripple into the present. But if we are hidden in Him who is, we are “more than overcomers”. Our culture shouts the impossibility of leaving the dirt worn path we chose in the past to find another path in the forest that would lead us to a different future. We chose a career now we are stuck with it the rest of our life. We are diagnosed with a disease and it has its label on us until the day we die. We struggle, so we will always. These are nothing but the gremlin lies of the past.
With Him we find our feet stepping off the clear cut path into the woods with its sweet honesuckle, its thick thorns, and its rugged trees. With leaves crunching underfoot we adventurously and joyously seek a path we know will be walked with the hope we already find filling us amongst the shady winding trees.
May you be brave today. May some of you enjoy freely romping around the woods of the present seeking.

Joy.

A Starbuck Story

Stepping over the threshold under green awning
familiar rhythm and song, unique territory.
Experience and Knowledge back me,
Culture runs through these veins,
fresh atmosphere I breath in.

Just as those old ones,
these walls are pregnant with a story to tell.
A waft of bold aroma enlightens the senses,
carrying me back to day one.
Being welcomed into a community of artists and influencers.

That place of beginnings held many journeys.
An addict no longer held down,
a gang of grey haired men enjoying company,
a restaurant owner doing business and family,
an evening dweller in search of a friend.

Lite frothing sounds allure me back.
These unfamiliar walls encase story as well.
There’s a faint salt smell as the door swings shut.
Buzzing in the corner amidst students,
and a pure intent seen in the faith man scribbling away.

If these walls could speak,
I’m sure they’d tell a tale,
of lives impacted by artists and influencers.
Now joining those, faintly the walls whisper,
And Im sure I heard my name in the chatter.

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