Seasons

2 Comments

Poem Commentary

This was written in the darkness of winter looking towards the freshness of summer. New opportunities for the year ahead. Ken

Seasons

  

The summer air fills my quiet room with the bouquet of God’s perfume.  The leaves outside are green, flower petals so soft, once thought during winter would ever be lost.

 

But a new day has broken, a new season begun, 
A time for brilliance a walk in the sun. 
The cold days of Winter are gone and now enjoy the warmth of the sun,
looking forward to joy and yes, even fun.    

 

What could be better, what could be greater,
knowing all permitted by my precious Creator. 
Not done with malice or meaning me ill,
Just allowed by His wisdom and His sovereign will.

 

So enjoy the morning, afternoon and the evening,
Because of God’s beloved Son my life becomes pleasing,

So walk with your head held way up high,

And continue to trust in God’s sovereignty. 

 

We were created by Him and to Him we return,
A special desire for which I yearn,
So enjoy the moment and yes sadness too,
because there is a plan that God is unfolding for you. 

 

Ken

5-2010

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sherlock139 commented on Seasons

02-28-2011

Thank you, Ken. This is a beautiful poem. We need to be thankful in everything.

Whiskers commented on Seasons

02-23-2011

Beautiful poem Ken, it captured me with the very first line: " The summer air fills my quiet room with the bouquet of God's perfume." May I make a couple suggestions? "The cold days of winter" line can be shortened possibly to "Cold winter days replaced by warm sun". Also, the lack of rhyme in Sovereignty was bothering me. How about those two lines as "So walk in contentment and decree, to continue to trust in God's sovereignty." Just a couple suggestions to put it over the top. Blessings, Whiskers.

khrsat

02/28/2011

Thanks Whiskers, great suggestions, I will follow them. Hope you are well and thanks for taking the time to read it and comment. I am a novice at this stuff, but I try. I have thick skin so don't worry about offending me, okay? Ken

Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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