Posted in Fiction, Poetry

Weeds of Life: a Sonnet by L. M. Montes

A daydream takes the mind upon a flight
of visions dancing ‘cross the brain of sight,
imagine if you can a tale of weeds
clawed and deep within the flowers of seed,
choking out such beauty to die and bend
never to grow up but meet its end,
but fingers claw and pull out from the muck
life’s problems sewing in and now are stuck,
yank once then twice and thrown aside and out
of God’s garden that man has strewn about,
at last sun’s rays uplift His color wheel
of blooms with sweetest scents that touch and heal
our body, mind, and soul from evil’s clutches,
blessing all who bow, and Jesus touches.

Posted in Fiction, Poetry

Hanging by His Hand by L. M. Montes

The present is but a wave
creeping toward the shore,
then in a breath it’s gone–
backwards evermore.

In life our friends and family,
warm our hearts and stay,
in our minds and in our soul,
then gone to our dismay.

Time’s wind blows at vicious speeds,
our memories we take hold,
that is all we have one day,
when we are growing old.

Alone we feel when most are gone,
as to the grave they go,
where does one lean in nothingness,
no one is there, you know.

But Christ is here and looking down,
and sees our pain that stands,
His love surrounds and comforts,
as you’re hanging by His hand.

by L. M. Montes

Posted in Poetry

Wilderness by L. M. Montes

In the vast array of wild I shrank
with no one else about,
am I the only one on earth
or separate, taken out.
Foliage crunched as footsteps sank
in leaves of dry dead beds,
where is water for me to drink,
a pounding slams my head.
A distant creek spoke in bubbles
leading my ear to treat my tongue,
dragging feet and limbs in slump
I flopped in waters that sung.