Susan Noyes Anderson » General Poetry

Life is Golden

admin — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 23:46:21 +0000

Are we condemned to take our lives for granted?

Must loss be felt (or feared) before the joy?

Does gratitude grow stale when goodness gathers,

when all is well with every girl and boy?

Is friendship priceless in a close-knit circle,

or must its worth be found in solitude?

For childish noise and clamor to be treasured,

must one dear voice be taken from the brood?

Can married love be valued in full measure

before one partner yields at last to death?

Must we abide disease, our bodies broken,

in order to appreciate each breath?

It’s true that opposition is the agent

that helps us mark the bitter and the sweet.

The trials must come; will we store them so deeply

that we forfeit the prize of their receipt?

Or will we use them to embrace thanksgiving,

to claim one joy against another pain?

Will sorrow plant delight for tender mercies?

Will rainbow shades endure beyond the rain?

The choice is yours and mine, as are the blessings,

bright gems that we may seek and recognize.

Don’t wait till it’s too late, for life is golden.

The proof is sparkling right before our eyes.

Life Has A Rhythm

admin — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 03:15:55 +0000

Life has a rhythm all its own

It bends and dips and flows

It moves through channels

Swirls in eddies

Goes and stops and goes

It’s up; it’s down; it’s all around

From grassy banks and shores

To misty meadows, lofty peaks

Rock beds and ocean floors

Life winds around the edges

And it goes outside the tracks

It blasts its way and wears away

And trickles through the cracks

Sometimes it’s cut off at the pass

Or tangled up in weeds

It soars and slips and freefalls

Rushes in and then recedes

Life looms and lulls and lights the sky

Life sucks you dry and fills you

Embrace it; chase it; drink it up…

Release the fear that stills you

Not living is what kills you

A Song for My Mother

admin — Wed, 05 May 2010 02:53:30 +0000

What song shall I sing for my mother? What key?

Which chords own the notes that will set her joy free?

Was psalm ever born that could raise her hopes high

as the million bright stars she has hung in my sky?

Might one interval be so deep and so wide

that the dreams of her heart could rest safely inside?

Which chorus would ring through her soul like a bell,

proclaiming in cadence what words cannot tell…

that she is a mother of infinite worth,

whose opus has played since the day of my birth?

What song shall I sing for my mother? What key?

Which chords own the notes that will set her joy free?

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

One melody answers, in strains weak and strong.

Its verses are mine, every line, right or wrong.

I sing for my mother…I’ve sung all along.

My life is the song.

Seascape

admin — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 06:12:33 +0000

If life is art, brush all my days

in colors of the sea.

The symphonies of gull and wave

lull cares away from me.

When thought is caught in city haze,

when songs of hope grow faint,

the steady rhythm of the ocean

soothes my soul’s complaint.

Sea sights and sea sounds weather well,

like sunlight in the heart––

warming and uplifting every

sacred, inner part.

Ode Owed to a Tree

admin — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 17:03:36 +0000

When life is getting hard for me,

I climb up in my favorite tree

and look down on the world below

where grass is green and flowers grow.

I start to feel good sitting there,

secure within my branchy chair.

Up high, the things that made me frown

look way too small to bring me down.

The sky’s more blue; the sun’s more bright,

and all my dark clouds turn out white

when I climb up my favorite tree.

Oh, what a friend he is to me!

Winter Has a Beauty

admin — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 17:28:09 +0000

Winter has a beauty all its own,

a framework urging men to look within

and find the quiet hush in every soul…

that peaceful place where new growth must begin.

The Weaver

admin — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 20:35:48 +0000

(images depicted here are not taken from His Children)

To see her hands

their beauty weave

restored my faith

made my heart conceive

of a graceful life

and a peaceful day

a man and wife

a place to stay

The Moon, More or Less

admin — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 15:07:49 +0000

The moon’s more friendly than the sun

more soothing when the day is done,

more peaceful in the autumn sky,

more gentle to the naked eye.

The moon’s less prideful than the sun,

less apt to glare at anyone,

less finicky as seasons turn,

and less capricious. (No moonburn!)

on a swing

admin — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 16:36:59 +0000

sturdy seat

happy sigh

dangling feet

open sky

trees to meet

urge to fly

joy complete

riding high

life is sweet

heav’n is nigh

Fall Leaves

admin — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 23:40:42 +0000

(the image depicted here is not taken from His Children)

All living things must yield;

the cycle is revealed.

A leaf, once green, turns brown

then, falling to the ground,

dissolves to fertilize

a seedling on the rise.

As rain becomes the dew,

so every end is new.