Dancing just, you and me, long ago, but no more,
in your arms, twirling so, spinning such, love for you,
music grows, sweetly now, slow it down, swish about,
lights dim to, darkness so, shadows float, soundless with,
eerie moon, beams so low, I’m alone,
fade you did, from this house, all that’s left,
is your ghost, haunting me, ne’er to rest.
In walked a woman who sat with the rest,
her clothes of silk and makeup smooth,
she had to look her best,
smile she did
and greetings pure,
who would have guessed that underneath
she seethed with vengeance sure.
The others were impressed
as they spoke with her aright,
and never did they see her
in any such different light,
it wasn’t till she dropped a word
with innocence so bright,
that shuttered and shook the others
against themselves with all their might.
Now, she was truly happy
with malice that brought delight
of having caused a killing ruckus
so scathing and impolite.
The door to courage is not locked
but fear stands in the way
of any who must walk through now,
not wait for another day.
Then you take a second glance
and see a gateway open
to anyone who sidesteps fear
with courage and now hoping.
Where is goodness anymore–
around the corner–
alas, no–
such dread and sorrow–
push them back–
open the door of your heart–
joy enters in–
yanked back out–
dwell on peace–
if only for a little while–
life droops–
and picks up speed–
joy and peace–
or knocked to your knees.
As I walked past the garden,
a scent had grown therein,
gliding over plant and earth
and said, “I beg your pardon.”
The sweetest scent so aromatic,
turned my head to see,
the flowers lifting up their heads,
and struck so automatic.
In their garden hidden,
so many different kinds,
whose scents arise to float
on air as they have often ridden.
A newness sparks a sensory influx
from the winds of change
sailing in my direction
with scents of wisdom
and feelings of joy encompassing,
ever enveloping around my eyes,
songs, tinkling melodies, fill my ears,
and tasting the freedom of God’s love.
Muddied knowledge of things to be
invades the psyche of you and me,
an understanding we uphold,
but is it truth, or ramblings so bold.
It’s said that ignorance is bliss
but then our growth to new is missed,
stagnate we will stay,
and learn the truth another day.
A day is but a speck
one holds and blows away
with one breath
then on to another, come what may.
The past is but a shadow
following all with lingering breath
and hard to catch
to try and change, what is next?
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.
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
WRITE TIME AND AGAIN 