Bitter Sweet Wait

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  • Lost Love

    Bitter Sweet Wait

     The day is ending and the sun is set.
    The sky still faded blue and violet yet.
    A candle burns upon the stand...
    Inside my soul has a tear drop ran.
    All of life so bitter sweet.
    Loss of love will make you bleed.
    You love so much and then they leave.
    The ones you want, the one you need.
    But the Lord is there, so calm and sweet.
    He is so gentle and patient to wait.
    Even though I put Him in last place.
    Now I know how He must feel.
    As my own children abandon me.
    I wait and I wait and now I see...
    How Father feels, as He waits for me.
    Oh Father I love you...
    You always wait on me.

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    WriterGenevieve commented on Bitter Sweet Wait

    10-16-2010

    Beautifully expressed feelings - thank you for sharing this - I really liked it!
    Reply to Comment

    danmartyjake1 commented on Bitter Sweet Wait

    02-26-2010

    Interesting and beautiful write. I liked the way you blended the feelings of the loss of lover or lover waiting, or children who have left the nest with the feelings of our creator waiting.
    Reply to Comment

    Mareann commented on Bitter Sweet Wait

    02-10-2010

    Very wonderfully written and expressed poem enjoyable read, Mary
    Reply to Comment

    SavVySam commented on Bitter Sweet Wait

    02-03-2010

    You have so aptly illustrated the bitter and the sweet, in this lovely poem! Very nice work!
    Reply to Comment

    jademelissa74 commented on Bitter Sweet Wait

    02-03-2010

    A wonderful piece indeed. I love the passion that you used to craft this poem. Aren't we blessed to be waited on by God??? A great write!
    Reply to Comment

    markrohaley

    02/10/2010

    We are so blessed beyond my comprehension. He calls me friend? He sets me on His level? He will share all with me as His equal for ever? He is blessed! I love you LORD. Yes, we are blessed always because of you.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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