Beautiful Whispers of Love

Beautiful whispers of love
Within the wafting breeze
That playfully lifts my hair.
How tender it feels on my skin.
How loving it plays on my mind.
A smile must escape
To express my gratitude.
Thank You for thinking of me
And sending Your love to me.

4-28-2019 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Addressing You

If I write a poem or two
For addressing you,
What does it mean that I bothered?

Younger or older,
Which one is bolder?
Everything seems altered.

One, two, or three.
Can’t seem to agree,
Yet work together to manipulate.

Home and school.
Just more rules.
You firmly stipulate.

Then or now
Doesn’t matter anyhow.
Life just took its turn.

Time to fly
And say Goodbye.
There’s really no need to mourn.

2.27.19 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Therapeutic Escapes

Hacks, and jacks, and unclaimed thoughts.
Which one am I?
Hello, Goodbye, miscommunicating altogether.
Don’t even know why.
Highs, lows, the roller coaster of life.
Which ride today?
Younger self, Defensive self, the whole is incomplete.
Which role will I play?
Denial. Avoidance. Therapeutic escapes.
Where shall I go?
Fly the sky, among the clouds so high.
There’s nothing left below.

2.27.19 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Penned Through the Pages

Words of a Savior penned through the pages.
Salvation shared throughout the ages.
A King, a bride, a wedding invitation.
A Father, a Son, reconciliation.
Chariots of Fire, a mansion prepared.
Save your oil. None can be spared.
Baby Jesus, baby Moses, twins that fight in the womb.
False imprisonment, wrongful death, finding the empty tomb.
Baby Samsom, baby Samuel, my strength comes from the Lord.
Baby Isaac, baby Ishmael, sin lies at the door.
Do not fear. Don’t be afraid. Angels out of nowhere.
Fight the bear. Fight the giant. David is in despair.
Mother Mary, Harlot Mary, Jesus is Lazarus’ friend.
John the Baptist, John the disciple, a Revelation in the end.

2.25.2019 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Abundant Words or Lack Thereof

Yesterday, just weeks ago, or even next month.
It doesn’t matter the time.
Every chance I try to sit and write with You,
I Have so much on my mind.
I thought that was a good thing
For the writer in me to have so much to say,
Yet when I go to put it in ink
The words just run away.
How cruel they are to scream so loud,
“I want to be heard!”
Yet when I go to set them free,
They do not whisper a word.
Bottled up, tangled up,
Scrambled and fried inside.
Thoughts, emotions, dreams, and life
Suddenly seem to have died.
One last time I make an effort
By bringing it to You.
Abundant words or lack thereof?
You’ll know what to do.

2-25-19 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Written As Poems

Sweet as flowers that smell so nice.
Fresh as air that fills the sky.
Drifting as a leaf set free.
It’s all so beautiful to me.
Painted as a scenery of flight.
Colored as though there’s so much light.
Closing as the setting sun.
The poems are written. The book is done.

1-26-2019 Saturday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Your Last Warning!

Do you not hear?
Do you not know?
I’m so tired of
You not letting go!
SCREEEEEAM!!!
I’ve had enough!
I will not run!
I just give up!
I give you over
To my God.
What I lack,
He’s got.
Courage, strength,
The voice to be bold.
You do not scare me
With your hold.
As He hath spoken,
He will command.
Let her go!
Don’t touch her hand!
Leave her body!
Leave her head!
Who you think you were
Is now dead!
My child is strong,
And I am stronger.
You will torture her
No longer!
You’ve had your fun.
You’ve had your mourning.
You’ve now been given
Your last warning!

1.21.2019 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire