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Posts Tagged ‘labyrinth’

One of the bloggers I follow is Kim Douillard who lives on the west coast of California. She takes beautiful photographs and posts a “Silent Sunday” photo each week on her blog, Thinking Through My Lens. Last Sunday I was fascinated by the beach labyrinth in her photo. I thought about the impermanence of it, how the ocean will eventually wash it away. Like the Tibetan monks who create sand mandalas. The creation is the prayer.

Image by Kim Douillard

Please write a small poem reflecting on the photograph. Write encouraging comments to other writers.

Footsteps mark
lines….
…..eternity

Margaret Simon, a pi-ku

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Our paths turn and turn
we seek the light of knowledge
a labyrinth of faith

(c) Margaret Simon
#haikuforhope

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30 Day Poetry Challenge  Day 6: Write a poem of any length incorporating every word from your latest Facebook status update in any order.

It took a while to find my last real post.  My posts have been my blog, so I kept looking.  I passed over the post about Berry Queens, not really that poetic.  Then I came to this post: With this little extra day, I was able to finish The Hunger Games just in time for the movie. I resisted and resisted, being encouraged by my student to keep reading. I hated the violence, but now I am intrigued to see the movie.  Too many words to work with, but I took the liberty of picking out some that fit with my thoughts on this gorgeous Good Friday.

In the Springtime, our yard becomes a jungle
growing vines cling to brick
resisting my pull, my tug
my violent raging against invasion.

With time, I am able to clear a path
follow it to the water’s edge.
In this silent game, I keep
tending and trimming.

Today is the day of hunger;
In passion, he gave up his life.
I walk through the mud
plucking the weeds.

How can I know such hunger, such pain?
I didn’t see the movie avoiding the sight
of violence on my Savior.
Yet, the story intrigues:

A crown of thorns–
betrayal–
Here is the man you call
King of the Jews.
It is the law
He should die. Why?
For me? For my clutch of weeds?

I look up into the strong arms
of grandmother oak and notice
the resurrection fern
open, happy, and green.

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