Friday Sun

Friday's sun glows warm,
orange-green behind closed eyelids.
Hope and waiting fuse.

A Lesson In Voice

College poem. This is a little indulgent; poetry isn't something you post if you need to be relevant to EVERYONE all the time. But - I've been thinking about this one a lot. It has to do with more than singing. Maybe a fellow poet-singer will understand. ;-)

A LESSON IN VOICE

Where is she hiding - your pixie-soul woman?
When breath came down like a spirit's dream,
did you catch her obsidian eyes in your lungs?
Did you choke on her scarlet ribbon hair?
Did you push her up through your selfish throat
till she crouched in your mouth like the anxious drone
of a dial tone from a broken receiver?

Where does she frolic - your sprite-hearted child?
When first you inhaled her naughty grin,
did she fly through your nose like a ticklish demon?
Did she dance with your whimsical tongue?
Did she scale your cords like the slide on a playground
and shoot head-first through your teeth like a passionate hiccup?

When you have freed your pixie-soul woman
to rock your sprite-hearted child to sleep,
when breath has become like a wise old angel
who lives in your stomach and prays beneath your cheeks...
When you have learned to love the song
till Song is all that is, your droning hiccup tones will own
A Voice.

Artist

If I could dip my pen-tip in your ink,
O God who writes the whispers of the trees,
And hears each silent simple thought I think
To journal it in sand beneath the seas.

If I could dip my brush into your paints
To color all the worlds in majesty,
To white the clouds and shade the storm in gray,
To dot night skies with bright so silvery.

If I could only sing one melody
Composed by You before the dawn of time,
To comprehend one word outside of "me",
To breathe Your soul in freedom as it climbs,

Would anything within me understand
The power of the Love that moves Your hand?