Susan Noyes Anderson » Life Lessons Poetry

Vitellus

admin — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 16:47:30 +0000

Protected by the

dark, we cling

to blind security.

We’re yellow at

the center

egg whites of our

eyes won’t see.

Living pecks us.

Pecks away.

Peck peck peck pecks

us free.

Imagine our

surprise: the shells

are more fragile

than we.

Appreciating Autumn

admin — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 19:16:01 +0000

Autumn is a feeling,

and it takes you for a ride.

It puts you in the driver's seat

and welcomes you inside.

Fall paints as many colors as

a rainbow, bright and bold,

and teaches you to find what's true

in orange, red, and gold.

It shows you what you're made of,

and the harvesting feels good.

Hard work is never wasted

when you've done the best you could.

To reap a great reward brings joy

and deep reflection, too.

The heart remembers all is well,

and love belongs to you.

As seasons come and seasons go,

every end is new.

photos by tendershootz

Keep On

admin — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 18:14:01 +0000

when you feel like there's no winning

find yourself a new beginning

keep on

when you really know you ought to

but you feel like you don't want to

keep on

when you tell yourself hope ever

but you wind up hoping never

keep on

when your heart is saying go, go

but your answer's always no, no

keep on

when self-pity fills your gut

kick your spirit in the butt

and keep on

Nesting, Resting, and Heroes

admin — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 17:16:57 +0000

Nesting in a tree,

resting on its roots,

red-caped superhero sporting

camouflage boots.

Hanging on a moment,

dangling in time,

soaking up the soft green sky scene,

fruit of the climb.

Face the future squarely, boy.

Grace it with the past.

Wield those superpowers wisely.

Let the sweetness last.

Shifting Gears

admin — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 16:38:23 +0000

photo by ParkeHarrison

When things aren’t breaking quite your way

and this world leaves you stuck,

crank it up.

When boredom eats up every day

as you slog through the muck,

crank it up.

When troubles quite confound you,

when the view turns grey around you,

when no marvel can astound you,

crank it up.

Seek no tropical vacation.

Rise above inane flirtation.

Drink no mind-numbing libation.

Crank it up.

Spout no multiple causation.

Amplify the expectation.

Ramp up your (i)machination.

Crank it up.

Divine Nature

admin — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 00:05:48 +0000

Proof of divinity is all around.

God's handiwork transcends His mystery.

We hear His voice in every sacred sound:

the trill of birds, the pounding of the sea.

His whisper reaches us in sunrise stillness,

when all the earth awakens from her sleep.

Betimes He warns us with an eagle's shrillness,

or speaks to us in rumblings, soft and deep.

We see His radiance in sunset glory;

His Light enlivens moon and stars and sun.

Each shining lake that shimmers tells His story.

Each mountaintop proclaims Him as the One.

We feel His tender touch in gentle breezes

that muss our hair or cool a rosy cheek.

His every gift to us is balm that eases,

to know Him is the sustenance we seek.

And yet the proud heart is not counted wise.

Only the humble and the reverent see.

Look for Him in a newborn baby's eyes,

then find Him, in your own divinity.

Climbing My Family Tree

admin — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 22:07:08 +0000

When life is less than kind to me,

I climb right up my family tree.

Stout branches turn to arms of grace

and lift me to a lofty place.

As brightness shines through every leaf,

my sunlit soul finds sweet relief.

Their foliage enfolds my heart

and shelters every sacred part.

Embraced, protected, raised by love,

I like the view from up above.

And oh, how clearly I can see,

high in the nest of my family tree.

My greatest joy comes from my family.

Because of them, I plant my roots deep.

And that makes me strong.

The Story Seed

admin — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 21:58:36 +0000

I planted a little story seed,

just placed it deeply in the ground

and, fertilizing carefully,

spread all the dirt and mulch around.

My eager hands caressed the soil,

as earth returned my soft embrace.

A tender reed peeked through one morn.

I blessed the sun, knew water's grace.

Resolved to tend my seedling well,

I watched it with a loving eye.

The weeds I saw were quickly pulled;

my heart was happy to comply.

Fruition came in leaves and buds;

a flower raised her lovely head.

The story seed had done its work,

but it had grown a poem instead.

Come as a Child

admin — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 17:49:21 +0000

O, that the meekness of a child might somehow be my own!

My heart would never turn from Thee to find my way alone.

If I could hear as children hear, believe as children do…

then I would always feel Thee near, reminding me what's true.

But I am often filled with pride, and though I may not boast,

sometimes I fail to look up, even when I need Thee most.

Perhaps I think that I am strong and capable and wise.

I hope that I am all of these, but not in my own eyes.

The world would have me credit every good I do to me,

yet every virtue I can claim is but a gift from Thee,

and every skill that I employ is given by Thy hand.

Why must a truth so simple be so hard to understand?

O, that the meekness of a child might somehow fill my soul,

then would I let Thy goodness enter in and make me whole.

"Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child,

the same is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 18:4).

(Artwork by Greg Olsen)

Finding Brillig

admin — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 20:47:50 +0000

AKA Rocking the Jabberwock

We all step through the looking glass,

but each one takes a different ride.

Some fall head-first like Alice did,

while others choose a measured stride.

Who trusts enough to nibble life

will grow or shrink accordingly.

Who waits and watches from afar,

will likely find herself at sea.

Beware the Jabberwock, indeed,

but neither yield nor disappear.

Just glance back through the looking glass

and wave and whisper, "I'm still here!"

∞§∞

"Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop."

–The King, Alice In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll