©2003 Susan Noyes Anderson, His Children, Vantage Point Press

photograph ©2003 Anita Schiller

The world keeps churning, turning round
It does not stop for those who fall
The lost ones sleep upon the ground

©2003 Susan Noyes Anderson, His Children, Vantage Point Press

Photograph ©2003 Anita Schiller – on mothers

The world shows many faces;
every life holds sundry charms,
but universal is our yearning
for a mother’s arms.

©1997 Susan Noyes Anderson (poem only)

With joy and hope, we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.
We speak of His example, of His love and sacrifice.
Our voices raise in carols praising Him, each sacred strain
a witness that the Lord did come and sank beneath our pain
to take our sins upon Himself, a perfect gift of love,
from our own Elder Brother, He who waits for us above.

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson (poem only)

image by Vika Strawerrica on Unsplash

How do you like to go up in a swing?
Pump your legs or be pushed?
Take it slow or take wing?

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

I love you like the ocean’s roar.
In fact, I love you even more.
Yes, every stupifying snore.

I love the wind between your lips.
Your exhale doesn’t sigh; it rips.
(The breeze it blows could sink warships.)

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson (poem only)

image by Caralsil on Deviant Art

The woman stood, endured, grew strong.
Propelled by faith, she trudged along
the snowy trail, the dusty plain,
the rocky passes, slick with rain.

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Barth Bailey on Upsplash

Our history is glorious.
Why should we not stand proud?
And yet, today, so many feel
that pride is not allowed.

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Rehan Syed on Unsplash

They came: the tired, the poor, the yearning masses,
the flood of people reaching for one moon––
sharing a dream that lived and died in snatches,
mercurial as air in a balloon––