Poetry, Prose & Prayer
Seek grace before bliss.
To seek bliss,
Is to seek the gift
May be to shun the Giver.
Who conjures dreams matters.
My pleasure may spring
From forbidden springs.
Before I entrust
Myself to gods,
Should I not seek
To discern truth
From Truth.
Come, come,
O, kind Spirit of Truth,
Though You contradict my way,
I promise to obey,
Clad in Your grace,
Day by day.
©2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
I was Irish once:
I was Irish for brief moments,
As they danced on makeshift stage.
Three sisters donned in green and white,
With ribbons in curled hair.
I was Irish for brief moments,
As locks bounced to rhythms tapped,
By jigging, flying feet,
Flitting blithely through the air.
I was Irish for brief moments,
Of merriment sublime,
Happy, joyful leaping,
Knees high, and lifted, kicking.
I was Irish for brief moments
Minstrels played their magic tunes,
And young girls moved in rocking fashion
Erin’s reveries impassioned.
I was Irish for brief moments.
Sweetly skirted colleens,
Poised on pointed toes.
Sent hearts a-skipping, happy legs a-lifting,
I was Irish for brief moments,
As fairies with green ribbons
In coiffed and flaming hair,
Spun a golden space in memory’s place.
I was Irish for brief moments,
And see again in dreaming,
Gladsome spinning, hopping, prancing,
Three sisters on stage dancing.
Yes, I was Irish once.
©2013 Joann Nelander
all rights reserved
The Lord’s joy
Is my strength.
He persuades my heart
By gentleness.
His mercy is a fountain
Of inner mirth,
Springing up in all seasons,
To temper my sorrow,
To pour oil into my wounds,
To salt my friendships
And to delight the Father,
Who sees me
Running after His Son,
And dancing with David’s abandonment.
May I be the dimple
In Your smile,
Appealing as the uplifted arms
Of a child,
And the innocent sleep
Of a baby.
Gladness be my swaddling,
That You may
Impart to me
The power the weak
Have to touch
The Heart of God,
Accepting always
His Loving will.
Copyright Joann Nelander 2012
That man, Job,
That sad man, Job,
That mad man, Job,
That angry man,
That suffering and troubled soul,
Behold my man, Job.
Have we not all been there?
Why, O Lord?
Am I not well-meaning,
One of the good guys,
A nice person?
Why must the Cross
Touch my life?
Am I not
Like a son to You?
With these words,
He made me see,
“You are, indeed,
Like a Son to Me.”
Don’t go alone.
Take God dancing.
Swim in Him.
Chase butterflies by His side.
Taste Him in the ice cream.
Try to find Him hiding in broccoli.
Look for Him in a tickle.
God goes undercover in every hug, wink and smile.
You can’t miss Him in a kiss.
You are the dimple in God’s smile.
He delights in your laughter.
when He throws you in the air,
Never fear, He catches you on the way down.
Did you know, He’s got your picture on His fridge?
©2012 Joann Nelander
If I should die today,
What have I to say?
Perhaps just one last prayer.
Grant that my heart
Should leap and quicken,
Catching sight of You
Coming from afar.
With Your Father,
You have wooed, and waited,
Sent Your Spirit
Into my dry bones,
Raising me from dust
Once again
And, now, forevermore.
Here I am, my Hallowed three.
The Bridegoom cometh;
Come for me.
(c) 2012 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 