Poetry

Steer clear of fear;
guard your eyes and what you hear!
Do not fear; be of good cheer.
Call on Jesus, Who is ever near.
Times will come and times will go,
Some will be bright, some filled with woe -
Call to Him Who loves you always,
more than you will ever know!

© Blaise

Now the Light of Jesus Christ of Nazareth,
the Chosen One, the Truth, the Way
shines forth in triumph and dispels the darkness
of this wicked day!

Begone, you vanquished powers of hell,
of Satan, sin, of lies, of death, and woe,
Now unto your appointed place
you must forever go.

The One Who has the victory
now holds this earth forever in His power.
He triumphant reigns,
Who has burst apart your useless chains!

Christ Jesus’ holy name alone we bless and praise,
as in His triumph now our shouts of joy we raise,
and forever throughout endless days.
His holy, precious blood has set us free,
as He the Lamb of God alone
has won the victory!

© Blaise

Peering down into the depths

while viewing from a rocky ledge, I see

myriad colors murky, deep, and dark,

but also shimmering, dancing light

that sparkles, smiles 

and reaches up to me.

It is as if the sun when setting

was absorbed and held entranced

beneath the surface of a 

captivating, wild, and lonely sea.

Now peering up it seeks a way,

come what may,

whereby it may regain the sky,

ascend into its former glory

and be free!

© Yvonne Blasy

Playing with color 

by day or by night

can wash away sadness 

and bring some delight.

A small dash of yellow, 

or purple, or green

can bring some new insights 

or brighten the scene!

So get out your colors 

and set things in motion;

You may be surprised 

if you follow this notion! 

© Blaise

Summer bids farewell,

with pastel petals falling

toward dry khaki grass parched with thirst,

hanging on for life in powdery dust 

yearning for the blessing

hidden in a cloud above about to burst.

Shining leaves of bronze and gold,

breaking free of twisted oaken ancients,

aided by a blast of cold,

rival bolts of flashing sunlight

darting through low hanging clouds.

Down they tumble, 

mingling with the pastel petals,

destined soon to dry and die,

ground to powdery dust,

beneath the countless footsteps,

of the bustling passersby.

© Blaise 2018