O is for Outdoor Overlook

Posted for a variety of prompts:

ABC Wednesday (O is for …)

Heads or Tails (“scary story”)

Lens Day Challenge (photo/s – “leaves”)

Mad Kane (homonyms in limerick & haiku forms)

Meme Express (“blues”)

Photo Hunt (#133 – “scary”)

Simply Snickers (“people,” “pose,” “port” and “pray/prey”)

That’s My Answer (“What’s the good word?”)

Thursday Challenge (photo/s – “hands”)

Today’s Flowers (photo/s)

Weekend Snapshot (photo/s)

Wordless Wednesday – Everyday (photo/s)

“O” is for . . . Outdoor Overlook

(photos c2008 by Nickers and Ink)

Leaving Leaves –

A Limericked Glow on Letting Go

Like hands aflutter, as they fall,

The leaves leave color over all.

As people pause,

They stare, because

The falling leaves hear Maker’s call.

Like candy corn in festive hues,

Their colors lift us from our blues.

We love the sight

In muted light,

Of fragile tumbling corkscrews.

As branches fold their arms to pray,

We stop and marvel each fall day.

The maples pose

And shed their clothes,

To wait for next year’s new array.

The portly oaks release their best,

Which fall and scatter with the rest.

Still, proud they stand,

Survey the land,

And know their faith has stood the test.

For death need not be source of dread,

Nor scary story left unsaid.

A fresher start

Awaits the heart

That welcomes roads unknown ahead.

Love poetry? Check out Simply Snickers, a brand-new weekly poetry prompt. Try your hand with weekly prompts! Or, look into The Meme Express for daily blogging prompts.

Click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.

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A Fine Wine

"N" is for . . . Nickers and Ink

The Finest Wine –
Rhyming Toasts for the Lord of Hosts

“Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!”

I’m tempted not much to imbibe,
Although it’s not a diatribe.
The fire water makes me reel,
And I don’t like the way I feel.

For motion sickness, standing still,
Is guaranteed, if I should swill.
A pounding head will follow next,
A necessary aftertext.

And yet, sometimes, the fruit of vine
Can be delightful, as we dine.
A little sip of something light
Accompanies a tasty bite.

The sweetest wine of all the years
Was mingled with the Savior’s tears.
He poured it out in love to save,
Before He overcame the grave.

Now He awaits the great command,
A chalice in His nail-scarred hand.
His bride prepares to meet her love,
When trumpet calls from up above.

No palate ever tasted such,
As granted by the Master’s touch.
He’ll offer vintage without cease,
And we will toast the Prince of Peace.
c2008 by Linda Ann Nickerson

The Damsel of the Sanct Grael, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1874)
Posted for:

ABC Wednesday (N is for …) 
Simply Snickers (“tempted,” “toast” and “trust”)

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M Is for . . . Maples and Monuments

Posted for a variety of prompts:

ABC Wednesday (“M is for . . .”)

Easy Street Prompts (“strategic response’)

Matinee Muse (“a matter of trust”)

Meme Express (“Grouch Day”)

Three Word Wednesday (“delicate,” “jaded” and “night”)

Thursday Challenge (photo – “autumn”)

Today’s Flowers (photo/s)

Totally Optional Prompts (internal rhymes)

Word-Filled Wednesday (see Scripture – below)

Wordless Wednesday (photo/s)

“M” is for . . . Maples and Monuments

Photo c2008 by Nickers and Ink

“… for the joy of the LORD is your strength.”

Nehemiah 8:10b, NIV

The Fall’s Final Flash -

On Maples and Monuments

So maybe it isn’t macabre at all

To treasure the loss of the leaves, as they fall.

A matter of trust,

For tumble they must,

Like ashes to ashes

Or dust to dust –

For delicate dying is autumn’s own call.

The brightest of colors are saved for the last,

We cherish the fanfare, the season’s best blast.

As forests ablaze

Captivate and amaze,

We’re borrowing days

To welcome warm rays.

Alas, by contrast, the performance has passed.

The jaded among us may doubt our delight.

We leap in the leaf piles and nuzzle at night.

Our hope is not lost

By first sign of frost,

Nor dashed to the ground

With branch-breaking sound.

Strategic response invites favor from fright.

Our lives are as leaves, clinging close to a limb,

A whispering whim, and our chances are slim.

Still, be not afraid,

For fear’s a charade.

With wonders displayed,

He comes to our aid.

And though we may fall, we may call upon Him.

c2008 by Linda Ann Nickerson