Sunday, September 30, 2007

Restless Hearts

We are like vultures,
searching for that which,
though dead,
would feed us.

We fill our stomachs
full of empty sweetness
that seems to satisfy.

That which we hunger for,
that which would feed us
is You and You alone.

You gave us yourself.
Your death, given for us,
is made alive again
to nourish and strengthen us
to give us life
for the journey--
to remain with us
until the end
of time.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

The angel holds the flaming sword
and cringing, I am forced to see
myself in its gleaming blade

Double edged,
it reveals the past and present
in inescapable oneness,
laying bare the stinging truth
before my weary soul

Saturday, September 15, 2007


as fleeting as a butterfly
as time turns
the masterfully crafted wings
to powder

as tenacious as a spider web
clinging to the bush
or the wall
with a strength
we did not know
it possessed

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Falling Plum

The tiny jade plum
forms on the spring branch,
hungering for the sun's warmth.

Growing, the skin
accommodates the change,
turning delicious
shades of magenta--
amethyst jewels in the early morning sunlight.

Finally, the ripe plum falls,
joining the others
on the ground,
the seed within
fed by the rotting fruit.

Monday, September 3, 2007


Memories of stupidity
come up
like yesterday's dinner
and unwelcome.

Where is the
for my brain?

Where is the
Pepto Bismol
for my soul?
Poems © Gemma W. Wilson