Sunday, 6 April 2014


I've posted some of my poetry in my "Confessions of a Pinterest Addict" blog but thought it appropriate to have them in this blog as well.

Most of these are pretty old, the last one is about a year old.


Driving down the dark avenue, I look in their windows...
I see them, gathered together ,
Families ...
Eating, playing games, talking, laughing
And I think, that is not my home.

Driving up to my house, I look in the window...
I see my husband, waiting for me,
My family,
Eating, playing games, talking, laughing
And yet I think, this is not my home.

One day, walking down the streets of gold, I will look into mansions,
I will see them, gathered together,
And Jesus, will turn to me and take me in his arms
And I will be home.

Here are 3 poems written a few years ago while teaching. It was silent reading time and this was the first time I'd been able to write any sort of poem for a number of years. These are very amateurish but that is fine. :) The third expresses my frustration in the long-lasting writer's block I'd been experiencing.

Poem #1


Poem # 2

Hearing pages turn
Hearing humming from a small child
Seeing joy in new discoveries
Seeing frustration in lack of understanding
Speaking words ... touching hearts
Desperately reaching out
Trying ... succeeding

Poem # 3

I hear the silence and I despair
Where are the words that once came so freely?
Where is the peace that poured out of desperation?
Is there no need? Have I found a new source?
Where is the relief? The tears? The laughter?
When will I speak again?

Hmmm, I should find my poetry journal and post some other oldies here. 

Hope for Tomorrow

Sorrow, pain
feels like

Cowering at bottom
try to reach up
break through dark
grasp at freedom

Know it's there
knowledge lacks hands to grasp
cowering at the bottom

Light breaks through
blinding light
beautiful light
hands reach, take hold
pull to freedom
Hope lives, rescue comes

I wait for that rescue.

And finally one I wrote in memory of my Mom. This one is quite new and was not posted in the other blog.

My Mother’s Hands

Fragile hands folded gently in prayer, firmly trusting.
Teaching that fold of trust to children at her knee,
singing “Now I lay me down to sleep…”
fragile hands,
Fingers gently turning thin Bible pages,
pausing here and there to read a verse;
Reading promises, hope.
A crooked finger admonishing;
a gentle touch of grace and love.
Hands in kitchen – cooking, guiding, teaching.
Teaching skills and teaching heart.
Teaching to embrace this role.

This is what her hands have done.

All poems in this post are written by me, Jennifer Renee McLarty, and are owned by me, Jennifer Renee McLarty. Do NOT copy these poems without my permission.

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