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DIAMONDS ON THE GROUND

DIAMONDS ON THE GROUND

Look, look –
there are diamonds on the ground,
in the dirt, on the grass, the path, the stones.
Could it be that the stars have fallen from the sky,
that the end is very near?

No, no, my dear.  It is just the reflection of the sun
on the mica chips along this Georgia path.
Their lights will go out
as soon as the sun goes down.

Come along, come along.  We cannot dilly dally
being awed by these shiny beauties, distracted from our duties,
wondering, pondering
how the sky got on the ground.

Copyright © Sharon Warden 2008, 2013. All rights reserved.

Sharon Warden lives in Florida, where she’s actively involved in various Christian groups. In her spare time she’s a poet, musician and visual artist.


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MOON IS BLUE

moontree by earthpages via Flickr

MOON IS BLUE

Moon is blue
speckled roundabout
with yellow dots
that fly
from the center of the sun
on the other side
of the world.
They cannot land and settle,
keep bouncing
off the surface.

I scream, I weep,
I cry aloud
because there can be
no sun, no warm,
no light
on this moon,
darkness only
with cold, cold, cold.

The way it was.
The way it’s always been,
The way it will remain.

© Sharon Warden


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PILLS, PILLS – Verse by Sharon Warden

Various pills

Various pills (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

PILLS, PILLS

Pills, pills
for all my ills
fix my pains
think again.
My word,
look what happened
to Mrs. Ford!

Gonna just say no
to all the drugs
pull out the rugs
from under the props,
capsules and drops
reads my book
don’t gimme that look.

Not gonna take
plavix anymore.
Throw the beta blockers
through the door.
Out on the ground
with the hdtz,
glucosamine, chondroitin
and vitamin E –
I wanna live free
in liberty.

© Sharon Warden February 2009

Disclaimer: This is not a medical nor legal document.Those with mental or physical health issues are advised to consult an appropriate and licensed health professional. See full details in Earthpages Policy and Disclaimer.


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Just the Colors

Just the Colors

That’s what is left – the colors;
Pink, mauve, golden gray
After the sunset
At the end of the day.

Nothing else, Lord, nothing
Left of my dreams.
Nothing left, nothing, Lord,
Of any former schemes.

The dross is burned away, Lord,
But still I cannot see
Your Face in the metal,
I yet see only me.

But thank You for the colors,
The ones You left for me
While I’m alive my eyes behold
This gracious gift to me.

Copyright © Sharon Warden 2011. All rights reserved.
Website: http://www.smarwar.net


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A FEW MORE RIVERS

A FEW MORE RIVERS

Before you ford that final stream,
find a few more rivers to cross.
Before you slip down the last slope,
find more mountains to scale.
Before you stake your ending ebenezer,
find another stake to claim.
Before you eat that final meal,
find enticing entrees you overlooked.
Before you chop down the forest,
find a lone tree to hug.

Life is a dance into unknown realms.
It sometimes masquerades as a
querulous quadrille in the corner.
Don’t you believe it for a minute!

Before you burn that bridge,
be sure that you have crossed the creek
for the final time.

© Sharon Warden 2010

Author’s Website: http://smarwar.weebly.com

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SHUT UP, UNCLE BILLY

SHUT UP, UNCLE BILLY

Shut up, Uncle Billy,
we haven’t got time
for that now
when she tried to still the sound
of that phrase always in her ears
from the Captain Midnight radio program…

Shut up, Uncle Billy,
we haven’t got time
for that now
when she lifted her head
to answer the priest about
his decision not to grant her the…

Shut up, Uncle Billy,
we haven’t got time
for that now
when she tried to explain
why her account balance was zero,
that her husband never worked…

Shut up, Uncle Billy,
we haven’t got time
for that now
when she answered the jury
pleading her case that her husband
blackened her eyes every…

Shut up, Uncle Billy,
we haven’t got time
for that now
when she hollered for the priest
to come, give her last rites
before the gurney ride…

Shut up, Uncle Billy,
we haven’t got time
for that now
when she realized knew that nobody cared,
the crowd just ogled and leered
from outside the window glass…

© Sharon Warden March 2010

Author’s Website: http://smarwar.weebly.com

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Review – The Next Room (Verse)

review_swtnr

The Next Room: Sharon Warden

Title: The Next Room
Author: Sharon Warden
Media: Bound Collection
Publisher: Jochebed Enterprises (48 pp.)
Date: 2005

» See Picture » Purchasing information

I’ve been acquainted with the American poet Sharon Warden for several years through the web. Whether or not this makes me more or less qualified to review her work, I’m not entirely certain.

Her collection of verse, The Next Room, has been sitting on my desk for weeks. I wanted to wait until the right time to enter into Warden’s world. And this morning, a sunny April day, proved to be that time.

Not to imply that the entire collection is bright and cheerful. It’s not. But Warden doesn’t dwell in the twilight of disappointment for too long. A ray of hope is discernible even in her more somber entries. Consider “Anathema A.M.”, a piece about a couple with child who can’t stand each others’ company any longer:

Take the child.
Take the child now.
The words are stuck
Deep in his gullet.

Even this stark scene closes with a hint of optimism, of new things to come:

Why lock the doors
When the windows stand wide open?

And if this isn’t enough to brighten things up, the next selection, “Childhood Memory” surely will. Here we find a charming retrospective on childhood play:

I was Athena in my mom’s nightgown,
a scarf tied crisscross across my chest,
standing erect and proud,
exacting homage from my kneeling worshippers.

As Sheena, queen of the jungle,
I swung from chair-tree to chair-tree…

From kitchen stories to bookstore follies, Warden’s innate sense of balance ensures that The Next Room doesn’t veer too far in any direction. Sprinkled with humor and insight, its shades are counterbalanced with sunshine, as found in “Prayer”:

Then we will rise
On the wings of the Dove
To follow You
Wherever You lead!

“Revolving Doors” displays a unique blend of form and content where Warden reveals true poetic genius. And while her devotional poems call to mind the majesty of the Old and New Testaments, The Next Room never comes off preachy; nor does it lean toward religious exclusivism, as evident in “Walking Simple”:

Pack your journal and a Bible
(or any faithbook of your choice)
together with a pen…

as you travel unencumbered,
walking simple.

Altogether, The Next Room is a frank and intimate portrayal of a seeker’s journey. Sometime observer, sometime comic and sometime critic, Warden never permits the ups and downs of life to obscure her devotional vision. Perhaps that’s why The Next Room isn’t just another collection of shallow contemporary verse, destined to fade into obscurity as the winds of literary fashion inevitably shift.

Witty, poignant and fresh, The Next Room is set in elegant Papyrus font, making it a “must have” for anyone who appreciates the beauty and power of the word.

—MC April 2005

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