Time To Come Home©
Come home, my child,
Be not afraid.
Come home to the arms
Of I who you made.
Come home, my child,
Into the light,
Out of the darkness
Of that cold night.
You are not leaving
You'll be ever near.
Come home, my child,
Be of no fear.
Reach to the gentle
Hands from above,
Come home, my child,
To My boundless love.
poem by Joanna E. King
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Take Heed©
Anger
Envy
Gluttony
Greed
Lust
Pri de
Sloth
And these are just the beginning,
Blizzard
Drought
Earthquake
Fami ne
Flood
Hurricane
Tsunami
Are these the beginning of the End?
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poem by Joanna E. King
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Autumn Footsteps©
Crisp and crackling,
Colors abound.
Crunching and crinkling,
On Autumn's ground.
Colors surrendered
To the Earth's floor,
Autumn compelled,
Sheds her crown once more.
Colors creating footsteps,
Unique unto their own,
Like the feet that print them,
Only to one they're known.
In the quiet solitude
When no one is near,
If you close your eyes,
The rustle you can hear.
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poem by Joanna E. King
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The Wind Is My Pillow©
The wind is my pillow upon which I lay my head,
The clouds are the down upon which I make my bed,
Together we all float in an undisturbed slumber,
Where all of the worldly woes we can disencumber.
The wind is my pillow when the day is done,
When the warmth has finished and the night's begun,
And the down around me I can enfold,
Admitting me again to that reassurance untold.
The wind is my pillow gently pushing me wide and far,
The chill of the night is blanketed by the stars,
And on we drift through a sleep of silent peace,
And once again we the chaos can release.
The wind is my pillow never knowing where I'll be,
With my eyes closed I wait to see what I will see,
Continuing to coast in a docile state of desire,
Unscathed and untouched by that which would conspire.
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poem by Joanna E. King
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