Curse Those Sour Grapes

Poor souls, they reach for gilded grapes,

Their noses twitch at promised scents.

Mocked and scorned by foolish apes,

Their flagging courage quick escapes.

Alas, their outer shell prevents,

Their hands from touching grand events.

Curse those sour grapes.

We scoff their less-than-splendid shapes,

Such slow, and fat, and useless lumps.

Whilst our attractiveness we traipse,

Our heartless banter tears and rapes

Their little heart that barely pumps.

And all we do is mock those “frumps.”

Curse those sour grapes.

And when to our naïve surprise,

One useless frump unfolds her wings,

We stare.  Her colors mesmerize.

She shames us, throws off her disguise,

Rejects belated offerings.

“One day you’ll learn to see,” she sings.

Curse

         those sour

                         grapes.

Gifts, Abandoned

Dusty, lonely, forgotten, I wait,

Here in the corner 

For you.

Wanting to feel you touch me, I wait,

Here in the corner

For you.

Lost in my memories to pass time away,

Here in the corner

I wait.

Silently wishing you might glance my way,

Here in the corner . . .

There was a time when you loved me, I think,

Far from the corner

I fill.

Where are your thoughts and your loving?  I think,

Far from the corner

I fill.

I am the art and work of your hands,

Here in the corner

I am.

I am the brushes, the pencils.  Please look

Here in the corner . . .

Piled and stuffed, disorganized mess,

Here in the corner

I wait.

Where have you gone, my creator?  I guess,

Far from the corner

I have.

Dusty, lonely, forgotten, I wait,

Here in the corner

For you.

I am your talent, abandoned to time,

Here in the corner . . .

Commune

Remind me, Lord; I’m listening. 

Not often does my buzzing brain,
So rushed and full of life mundane,
From all the spinning thoughts abstain . . .
I’m listening.

While I am still and You are not,
Remind me, Lord, of who you brought,
Through many trials, for I forgot . . .
I’m listening. 

Remind me, Christ, of broken chains,
Healing rivers from Your veins,
Crimson washing crimson stains . . .
I’m listening. 

Spirit, while I am subdued,
Take my soul; it needs renewed,
Change my selfish attitude . . .
I’m listening. 

Washed in precious memory,
Sweet Communion, You and me,
Tell me of eternity . . .
I’m listening. 

Remind me, Lord; I’m listening.