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a life incredible, vivid, excellent.

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  • Home
  • innocence explained
  • adventures arranged
    • photography
      • ardent spirits
        • summer’s last light
        • wistful autumn
        • tattered winter
      • brother sister
        • messes of men
        • the dryness and the rain
        • yellow spider
      • covert operatives
        • the spy who stayed out in the cold
        • TTSS74
      • the swell seasons
        • the only spring
  • writing
    • poetry
  • contact
  • store

All articles filed in billy collins

litany

By: littlepeace April 9, 2020
lent, poetrybilly collins, Christianity, holy week, napowrimo, national poetry month, national poetry writing month, poem, poems, poetry, poetsLeave a Comment on litany

i am hungry, and You
are the bread and the wine.
You are always the bread and the wine.

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lent, poetrybilly collins, Christianity, holy week, napowrimo, national poetry month, national poetry writing month, poem, poems, poetry, poetsLeave a Comment on litany

About Amelia


I'm an editrix, a writer, a poet, a photographer, and a wielder of butter. I love Jesus because He loved me first.

snapshots

Maybe this will just be today’s poem.
Today’s poem, petals, is now readable at the link on my bio. Hooray for sunshine!
I have a very vivid memory from my tweenage years of sobbing to God about something and saying “Oh, if i only knew — it would be so much easier.” On Easter Sunday I was talking with my pastor’s wife about a particular situation and she also said “I used to think that if I knew the outcome ahead of time, the waiting at least would be easier.” Now that I’m grown up I’m so glad God didn’t tell me the answer to that particular heart-rending question. And even though I still don’t like waiting for answers, I’m glad there are some things I can’t see in advance. Today’s poem, as a child, is about this, and you can read it at the link in my bio.
at the white house on the corner they’re having a tree cut down —a perfectly good tree, by the looks of things, with pale green baby leaves bursting from the branches — and through my open window i can hear a diesel engine idling and the conversational racket of the workmen
It’s National Poetry Month, friends, if you weren’t aware. Today’s poem is called waking, and you can read it at the link in my bio.

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all writing and photographs, unless otherwise noted or obvious, are the work of amelia m. freidline and may not be used or distributed without permission.
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