Newborn Daughter

The mother looks down

and tenderly smiles.

She reaches out

to stroke a stray lock

of wispy brown hair

on her newborn daughter’s head.

Her husband sighs with contentment

and radiates

a megawatt smile

full of love and warmth

and joy.

He touches his wife’s back

with a touch of adoration

and affirmation.

“Faith” they both whisper

in unison.

Their newborn daughter’s

chosen name

is full of promise

of their spiritual hopes

and dreams for her.

She is their joy.

She is their pride.

She is their daughter.

The special bond

that they share

is a blissful moment

when it feels like

Heaven actually comes down

and touches earth.

True bliss.

 

Love is the Hope

The girl has a
hopeful heart.
Tired and forlorn
but still beating,
still prayerful,
and still seeking lasting love.
Love is the hope
of her.
Time smiles
and seasons come and go
for the girl
but she sees a future
in the distance
brighter than her current moments
and glistening with a golden sheen
like the sun and a thousand brilliant lights.
Love is the hope
of beautiful moments.
She is not backing down
from faith.
She is not giving up
having trust in her God
and His good hand
of provision for her.
Love is the hope
of God’s faithfulness.
Love beckons in the distance
still to be found and embraced
and toward that distance
she will go.

Love Tarries

Love tarries
as sunrises and sunsets,
new moons,
summer,
fall,
and winter
come and go
and another spring bashfully peaks
through the horizon.
The delay
and wait for love
weighs down my heart
with much sadness.
I feel forsaken
by love.

Men in my age range
seem to prefer model-types,
exotic foreign girls,
girls who like to flirt,
or girls who run after guys
and make things happen.
So, I’m no model,
nor do I want to be,
and beauty ultimately should come from within,
but I fault too many guys
for caring too much about appearance
and putting it on a pedestal,
and not caring enough about qualities
like compassion or intelligence or courage.
I don’t have exotic foreign appeal.
Alas, I can’t compete with that.
And I’ve never been one
much for flirting.
I appreciate genuine connection
and prefer to be monogamous
with flirting, but in dating
and not with every single guy.
I’m more traditional in nature,
and want to be pursued,
but society seems to laugh
at that these days.
I can be both traditional,
as well as for women having equal access
and opportunity in both the home and work sphere.

Love tarries
like a long, cold winter
when spring seems like it is forever gone,
and I sigh
and grow in patience,
albeit somewhat ungracefully,
in this wait for beautiful and lasting love.

New Year, New You (a personal poem)

A new year full of promise and secret dreams.

A new year, a fresh start, and hidden deep waters.

The dazzle of potential is blinding.

The beauty of a clean slate

is liberating,

euphoric,

and causes happiness to permeate

my forlorn melancholy.

 

Light always shines in the darkness.

Light always is beautiful.

Light always shows the way.

 

My theory is thus:

I need to learn to make my own decisions

and stop over-analyzing and questioning

Myself.

My hopes.

My dreams.

My heart.

And I need to safeguard myself from the voices

of those who would make my decisions for me

when that is not their choice,

and they should not be allowed to do so.

 

It is a new year.

I am a new me.

I want to break free

and go down a new path

(yes, I read that Robert Frost poem)

even if no one will join me.

I hope to find someone on the way,

because I am not meant to always be alone,

and God knows

I would make a horrible nun

(even though Mother Teresa is one of the women

that I admire the most).

Besides, I am not Catholic,

and I think marriage is the epitome of cool.

The world may dismiss it, but I won’t.

Marriage is beautiful.