Rain

Rainbow

Drops on my glasses

Drops on my clothes

Turning me cold-

torture.

Driving to meet friends

Driving amongst crazies

Can’t see through gray-

torture.

Can’t park close enough

Stepping out into puddles

Feet wet and cold-

torture.

Phone’s in my bag

Full of my life’s photos

It sneaks in, slippery-

torture.

Order food for the family

Carry it outside

My bags get soggy-

torture.

Clouds stop dripping

Rainbow spotted above

All is clean and green-

wondrous torture.

“Fit as a Fiddle”

This is an exercise where a writer uses a cliche to create a poem.

violin-1464834_1280

She’s as fit as a fiddle,

wide at the edges, thin in the middle,

playing on vibrating strings

she barely keeps together all of the things.

Arranging, humming, squeaking, buffing

take care of her, don’t allow any scuffing!

*Graphic CC0 from Pixabay

 

Hand of the Lamb

hand-in-hand-2070764_1920

Skin’s so soft, I’m feeling fine bones.

Clenching tightly, I grasp on to hold.

This physical manifestation of what lies beneath

is strength that holds me up, when I can’t seem to breathe.

This hand offers softness in its effort to comfort

smooths over my soul, while giving me support.

I need His grace, mercy, hope and forgiveness

each and every day of my life – if I hope to last.

I need this hand of the lamb as I walk my daily path,

til the day when a hug will take the place of the hand.

 

*Photo CC0 from Pixabay