He who learns must suffer, and, even in our sleep, pain that we cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. - Aeschylus

Saturday, February 13, 2016

The River of Love

The beginning of what is hopefully a poetic Lenten journey.

The River of Love

The river begins with the bubbling of the spring,
a slow trickle turns to gurgling on the mountain,
and the water falls into the clear brook babbling;
the rushing waters roar and splash like a fountain.

The brook flows with the curving of the ground,
a swift stream of fuel for the lighting of life's fire,
and the flora are growing from the water's round,
the fauna drinking clean water until they retire.

The creek dives off the mountain's shining face,
a waterfall of life forming from the tears of love,
and the mist is showing us the rainbow's trace,
the sign of love's promise ever-glowing above.

The valley cradles the pool of churning teardrops,
a whirlpool of love spinning beneath the deluge,
and the plants are budding under rocky outcrops,
the wave-filled pool a luscious greening refuge.

The garden thrives around the old winding river,
a monument to the nourishing stream's power
and the flourishing of all good things forever,
the river of love sustains the blooming flower.

Note:  Photo credit goes to me.  In this poem I'm using typical devices like a four-line stanza, end rhyme, start rhyme, internal rhyme, and natural imagery.  I tried to stick to a 12-syllable count for each line.  The poem is about God's love for us which starts small and grows into a powerful river which brings an abundance of life through the power of love.

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