Volume One

Volume One - Volume one contains poetry previously written by W. Diane Van Zwol and published on the www.poetry.com web site.

1. If I

If I on sacred wings could fly,
Pedantic as a butterfly,
And wing my words into the sky,
Then I might be a poem.
If I could be a summer breeze,
Afloat among the leaves of trees,
And flow wherever I might please,
Then I might be a poem.
If I could render songs unsung,
Climb to the heavens, rung by rung,
Unpaint the paintings yet still hung,
Then I might be a poem.
If I could live upon a star,
Or know the truth of who you are,
And reach my God, who seems so far,
Then I might be a poem.
If I could swim in every moat,
Or cross all rivers with no boat,
Or even wear young Joseph's coat,
Then I might be a poem.

2. There Are Those In Time Who Seek To Learn

There are those in time who seek to learn,
For knowledge true, they ever would yearn,
While others seek for some kind of bliss,
Not knowing what they will ever miss.
Some love to know about ev'rything,
With all of the secrets life can bring,
But others bound in their ignorance,
Relate to some barbarian dance.
It's our choice in time, to learn or not,
And if we are doing what we ought,
We will ever seek for knowledge right,
With Love as our focus, one true Light.
If ignorance is what we would choose,
We have so much, even life, to lose.
Just pray that God will lead you today.
Ask for enlightenment and then say
'Thankyou' to those who helped to teach you
To walk in His pathways. What you do
And what you say, will show ev'ryone
What work through you, Truth has now begun.

3. Displaced

Displaced, the new homeless stand dazed,
Wearing a brave mask of courage,
While still harbouring deep inside,
The silent terror of the unknown.
Everywhere, the eye of compassion looks on,
Bearing silent witness to the disaster,
Always waiting to embrace with love,
Those battered by the thunderous fury
Of the hurricane's relentless devastation.
But few can see beyond the momentary pain,
The suffering, the senseless loss of life,
In the horrific moment or hour of tragedy,
And tear at the living with anger and scorn,
As if they can not mourn or know horror too.
The ones who are controlled by fear's domain
Can seldom see beyond its stark reality;
Only love can cast out that kind of fear
And awaken them to feel compassion's touch.

4. Sounds

Sounds of serenity caressing a new day
Waking to joys of early morning light...
Murmur of a trembling breeze
The sleepy robin to tease...
Whisper of trickling water
Sprinkled with rainbow hues...
Plaintive call of the mourning dove
Reminding the world of its plight...
Sounds of serenity seem to end
The darkness of blackest night.

5. Coming Up Daisies

A cool but gentle wash of heavy autumn mist,
Heavily weighing leaves on weary branches,
Soon breaks them free from their maple tree.
Hovering reluctantly on the wings of change,
Like airplanes, they seem to stall in mid-air,
Long enough to seek a new place of refuge.
During one breathless moment of silence,
They spiral, plunging down to the ground.
Four tiny sparrows, exploring an icy puddle,
Alerted to footsteps invading their domain,
Suddenly take wing, flying just a few feet,
Towards a fifth, who moves over to make room
On an unpainted cedar fence, warped in time.
Beams of sunlight, scattered by tree limbs,
Display the legacy of a broken sidewalk.
The last vestiges of early fall flowers
Invading the icy cracks, still proclaim
The actual reality of love's fond embrace,
That everything is still 'coming up daisies',
Just exactly as the world was ordained to be.

6. Autumn Reflection

Stunning vibrant rainbow hues reflect
The brilliant glow of mid-morning sun,
Transformed into gleaming waves
Of crackling icy grass, where footsteps trod.
A solemn, somber silence momentarily
Becomes a quiet moment of reflection,
As a single sacred voice, without a quiver,
Bursts forth in grace filled anthem.
The warmth of sunshine's heightening rays
Tenderly warms the welcoming soul.
A smile, a gentle handshake, a hug,
The lengthening black shadow of light.
But what is Love if unaware
Of passion's deep embrace, e'en where
Death in its final hour
Has graced and touched another autumn day?

7. Wee Laddie

The wee laddie marched on as he played.
Stalwart did he seem; to watch I stayed.
His bagpipes were piping loud and clear.
Crowds began to gather close to hear.
His kilt swayed so gently in the breeze.
Every song he played, the crowd did please.
I thought as I saw him standing tall,
Surely love inspired him, was his call.
The wee laddie played and marched along,
Round and round his stage with ev'ry song.
Now and then someone would wipe a tear,
As his music roused a mem'ry dear.
The melodies, yes, one that I heard,
Resounding as sweetly as a bird,
Showed me the wee laddie in each man,
Softly playing bagpipes in God's plan.

8. What Ecstasy! What Agony!

What ecstasy! What agony! It's poetry in rhyme,
The flowing of a stream of love within a frame of time.
O joyful mirth of gentle birth, in words that sound divine,
Descend today, bless us we pray, as we write line by line.
What wondrous star has led afar the wise men as of old?
What shining light, so burning bright, is this of which is told?
What beckons on, calls far and yon, to young and old today?
A voice is clear for those who hear and will not go astray.
In morning fair, there's still despair, but hope is rising too.
In agony, still ecstasy, for God knows what to do.
His gentle soul can make man whole and this man needs to hear.
What other love than God above can drive away his fear?
O slender thread of fear and dread, be banished now from sight.
True love and peace shall never cease as God is always right.
What night or dawn still moving on, can change the life of man?
Just look above, once more at love and realize God's plan.
A silent voice can still rejoice though waters may run deep.
For man in pain yet once again, our God is not asleep.
No need to cry for God is nigh; He'll prove it o'er and o'er,
Until some way, some future day, He beckons to His shore.

9. Life Is A Question Of Justice

Life is a question of justice,
The answer to which is God's love.Life needs compassion and mercy,
But mercy that comes from above.
Life is the hope of salvation,
Salvation of your soul and mine.
Life, in itself, is held sacred,
By those who see life as divine.
Life is a blessed existence,
A gift to be treasured by all.
Life in its greatest outworking,
Brings love and new hope to us all.
Life to be lived to its fullest,
Is staying in constant accord,
Loving each sister and brother,
As led by the Word of the Lord.
Life as we know it, imperfect,
It seems is a test of our faith.
Justice and mercy with goodness,
Is love granted to us by grace.

10. Sweet Gentle Beams Of Morning

Sweet gentle beams of morning,
Caressing sparkling dew,
With tender touch enfolding,
Suggesting `I love you.'
A slender peaking crocus,
Refreshing wondrous rain,
A robin preening feathers,
Proclaiming love's refrain.
A surging of the waters,
Lets icebergs float on through.
The dripping of the syrup
Calls out `What shall we do?'
The echo of a whisper,
Of breezes wafting by,
Announces spring's day dawning,
Not even asking why.
A touch of Easter morning,
Arouses me and you,
To hopes of blessed tidings,
That Christ has risen anew.

11. Diamonds in the Rough

In the world that's all around us,
In that mirror, we can see,
A reflection glowing brightly
That portrays a you or me.
We may shine a little brighter;
We may glow a little less;
But in truth and love eternal,
Diamonds...those whom God does bless.
So just be a little diamond,
Even if you see you're rough
And enjoy your life's true journey
Even though it may seem tough.
You will meet a few more diamonds,
And like you, they too will find,
As a diamond, called to be one,
Diamondship's a state of mind.