divine birth

study-of-edgar-degas-swan-simz-zucca

Degas

dawn awakens in
gasping air from a newborn.
signs of divine birth
abruptly fail confusion.
in first breath, goodness knowing
and godly peace is alive.

(c) 2017 rick stassi

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Will you?

young-thomas-and-his-mother-1893

Mary Cassatt

Will you watch me in this day?
Ever watch me as I pray?
And hold me tight in perfect peace
Conscious of temporal release

Will you watch me as I grow?
Passing time can leave me low
And touch my heart in perfect love
Conscious of your eyes above.

Will you watch me when I am ill?
When trials become part of perfect will
And touch my mind in lucid light
Conscious of the fearless night.

Will you watch me in springtime bliss?
Ever binding joyous kiss!
And touch my soul in divine clout
Conscious of candle burning out

Will you be there when I die?
With glorified body away to sky.
And touch the memory of those I adored
Conscious of a heart’s crimson chord.

(c) rick stassi

Fear

Klee, Paul, 1879-1940; Gespenst eines Genies, No.10 (Ghost of a Genius)

Paul Klee

A breeze this morn reminds me when
everything was safe within.
Before the storm of careless youth,
when rarely did I seek the truth.
I cherish time that has clearly surpassed,
destruction pushing toward shadowed morass.
As presently the new-found sun appears,
I shan’t ever lay eyes on irreverent fears.

(c) Rick Stassi 2017

about today

jan 28 fog

Loriann Signori

How i long for times,
far away in youthful rhymes.
To see things in an optimistic light,
when dour shapes should soon take flight.

Those are days of hope-filled smiles
separated from loathsome defiles.
Laughter is the tone of the day
ushering sadness far, far away.

I dreamed about a these times of grace
with tears no longer on my face
and with reason and joyful vow
in Jesus those times are really now.

(c) rick stassi 2017

Progress

Cassatt3

So quiet comes the new day.
Over the hills of the east
the light greets the west
without urgency bravely
conquering darkness.

Senses greet harvest fields
as damp alfalfa is raked
deftly into endless rows.
A cyclic season as stubble remains
for next year’s fodder.

When is my next season?
I lean toward the merciful east
and find warmth in light –
agitation meets its match
in the dawn’s hue.

In the calm there is rest
as thoughts once meandering
settle for a quiet moment
in God’s veil of
renewing comfort.

I like these times
when there is a notion
I am alright and
I am fit to dine
with eternal love.

I can see inside me
better and better
with each eastern sunrise.
Grasp this vision, but
remember the road traveled.

For each step is progress.
Each tear digests heartache.
Every smile cleans an amber lens.
And a prayer soothes my soul
bringing hope and solace.

Clearer and closer to
a lucid glimpse of
what God, since the
beginning, has already
long known.