Come Ride with Me
written by
Jeannette Zink
July 16, 2019
Come ride
with me during waking hours; experience the gifts from this beautiful day. Embrace
the good and bad with equal respect. Be grateful for risks taken and lessons
learned. Believe in a tomorrow yet to unfold amongst the tossing and turning
waves. Welcome wishful dreams that casually rest on curls of the sleeping cerulean
night.
Come ride
with me catching shadows from the rewards of a day made bright by its bounty of
unconditional light. The spry of heart may travel paths reasoned by a cascade
radiance gleaming from eternal wisdom. Mystics and gods write their lasting tales
of trials and victories to inspire and encourage. We, the inheritor of precious
knowledge, shall carry forward and give freely the jewels of collective scholarship.
Come ride
with me and be the hero; the brave one holding the hand of hope; the one
believing in all that may be possible; the beneficiary of graceful pillars and
planned blueprints.
Come
ride with me and enjoy the stirs of each new day. Glide on the wings of each prized
moment. Breathe in the glory and breathe out the scorn. Trust the artist to
create nourishment for our soul. Dance with a glorious spirit in the arms of a moonlit
melody.
Come
ride with me. Tickets purchased; seats reserved; our journey ready to commence.
Vistas of panoramic riches await. The time is right, and the universe is bright.
Come
ride with me … kindred spirit … the time is right, and the universe is bright.
i heard your stare … and turned around
written by
Jeannette Zink
May 27, 2019
There are times when
I can no longer carry the burden of my shortcomings.
I can only give
thanks for your grace.
There are times when
I stand in wonder at the life you have provided me.
I can only give
thanks for your grace.
There are times when
I cry tears of joy for the beautiful vistas you have prepared for all.
I can only give
thanks for your grace.
There are times when
friendship arrives just in the nick of time and on the cusp of my despair.
I can only give
thanks for your grace.
There are times when
your glory is the answer and the reason.
I can only give
thanks for your grace.
There are times, there
are days and there are moments when gifts are left on the doorstep of my life.
I can only give thanks
for your grace.
There are times when
I do not deserve yet receive love.
I can only give
thanks for your grace.
There are times when
I heard your stare … and turned around.
I can only give
thanks for your grace.
There are times when
all I need to do is simply turn around.
I can only give
thanks for your grace.
Thank You
Thank You
Thank You
As Intended to Be
written by
Jeannette Zink
March 15, 2019
I looked into
his eyes
and saw a land
of enchantment.
I looked into
his heart
and saw a life of contentment.
I looked into
his soul
and saw more than could be told.
I looked into
his spirit
and saw greatness to behold.
I looked into
his world
and saw a
graceful peace.
I looked into
his future
and saw a grand masterpiece.
Yes …
I looked;
he saw;
and now,
we both can see
…
a life as
intended to be.
Autumn's Courage
written by
Jeannette Zink
October 12, 2018
Face west …
and admire
the beauty of autumn’s courage;
dance in the
twirls of each fallen leaf;
imagine
pumpkins dressed in folds of sunlit mysteries.
Face west …
and admire
the beauty of autumn’s courage;
hallow the
season of white tigers and rustic charms;
soar with
this glorious season of splendor and mystic wonder;
winter’s
tease has arrived to please.
Face west …
and admire
the beauty of autumn’s courage.
written by
Jeannette Zink
July 28, 2018
Write the next chapter with a pen enriched by life experiences.
Use the ink made of vibrant magenta,
not the demure rose color from reticent days.
Calligraphy of assured bold strokes.
Wisdom reflected in equal portions of
learned regrets and triumphant challenges.
Shared are the trials and victories, so
others may valiantly cross the bridge of uncertainty…
Wishes turned to dreams of reality;
Cannot Be Done to Yes, I Can;
Discouragement to encouragement.
Timid voice to self-assured dignity.
Be courageous, be bold, be magenta!
Write the next chapter with a pen
enriched by life experiences.
Use the ink made vibrant by the gifts
of your story.
Write the next chapter this day…
Radiant light of
magenta;
your story
our hero.
Let Tomorrow Breathe
written by
Jeannette Zink
February 14, 2018
The sun does not always shine.
The stars do not always blink.
Hopes do not always come true.
Dreams do not always find their reality.
And, love does not always float toward the rocky shoreline.
Release and set free what once was thought to be.
Let possibilities find their fresh new home.
It is time for tomorrow to breathe and take hold.
It is time to just let be.
Is that the sun we now see shine …
Do the stars wink in our twilight hours …
Hopes patiently stitched together their truth …
Dreams laugh and dance a jig to a new tune …
Love … oh, beautiful Love …
The shoreline may be a bit jagged and worn;
crafted from the gentle waves of wisdom;
gone the debris of expectations and conditions.
This your brand new and refreshed home.
Come inside and rest a spell.
Greetings and Peace.
Welcome home,
Love … oh, beautiful Love.
What Did I Do …
written by
Jeannette
Zink
December 17,
2017
Did I give
comfort when you needed the gift of just someone to listen?
Did I say
thank you when you shared your grace with me?
Did I give
back more than take of your generosity and kindness?
Did I respect
the beauty of who you are and not stand in the misguided steps of judgement of
who I thought you should be?
Did I offer a
gentle tissue of compassion for your tears of sorrow and tears of joy?
Did I walk
away when I should have found the path to walk toward you?
Did I make a
difference in the privilege of living in your world?
Did I answer
your call when others turned away?
Did my
existence offer positive energy to your universe?
Did I forgive
and make a way for second chances?
What did I do …
Hopefully, I did contribute in the
spirit of goodness; and,
hopefully, I did recognize my shortcomings and
will always strive to do much better; and,
hopefully, I, too, will be given the
gift of second chances.
Coziest Place
written by
Jeannette Zink
December, 2017
Just on the outskirts
of today and the fringes of tomorrow
there you will find
the most coziest of place …
where stardust dreams
take flight;
hopes dance in the
chill of night; and,
wishes sparkle with a
mystical light …
yes, the coziest of
place you will find and
what a delight on
this most wonderful magical night!
The Raspberry Hour
written by
Jeannette Zink
October 9, 2016
The sun now rests on the waning magenta
and lavender rays of our daylight hours.
Time has scattered hither and thither,
as if raspberry swirls
on top this chocolate mousse of a day.
Secrets and regrets veiled in the aromatic
scents of our rosemary and thyme memories.
The nightscape soon to take lead role in the narrative of our fantasies
and tomorrow’s truths.
This is our raspberry hour when we pause
and self-evaluate the swirls of our day.
We search through misty fragments of
successes and failures,
and appeal to the gods of our maybe tomorrows –
well, maybe tomorrow I will do better.
Our sleepy eyelids lower with the
window shade of this day,
and we give thanksgiving for every single
great and small blessing.
We are now free to join the night in a
stroll made clear
by starlight beams and mystic dreams.
Yes, maybe tomorrow we will do better
and be so much wiser
before next we bow to our raspberry hour.
The universe gently wraps its loving arms
around our unsure soul, and
whispers lyrics of encouragement to a
weary spirit.
Come dance, beckons the nighttime
hour,
do not toss and turn with misery that come to
mind,
this the midnight gala and you the
welcomed guest.
Enjoy the party ... you are the guest
of honor.
Graciously, I thank you, gifts of the
night,
nurturer of my frustrations and
sorrows;
our time together a treasure well
spent.
Now, dear night; with deep respect,
I must release you and these rosemary and
thyme memories;
and, turn to greet the graceful light
of unconditional love
found inside each waiting God-given gift.
The sun will soon dawn and bravely I lift
the window shade on a brand new day.
Maybe today I will do better …
maybe today will be the day that I
shout courageously
on the tip toes of wonders and greatness.
Maybe this will be the day that I
share the best of me.
Yes, today will be that day …
before next we bow to our raspberry
hour.
Peace be with You,
on your pilgrimage
and
before next you bow
to the
raspberry
hour.
You
may enjoy following my blogs:
The Greeter
written by
Jeannette
Zink
September 2,
2016
The sign
outside a building I pass each morning reads –
Welcome, Come As You Are
I began to
wonder what could be inside this building that stands four walls tall;
reflecting
such beauty through windows of stained glass;
steeple
brushed by the tarnished colors seen each fall.
So, I
stopped one morning and went inside this familiar building that stood four
walls tall.
“Here I am,” I said at the
portal –
as if answering
the cries of a lost person’s call.
“Welcome,” I
heard you say, “please come in and rest this day, you have traveled so far.”
This is your home; you are not just a
casual guest.
Please, come, my friend,
take your place in this building made four walls tall.
The sun has now
risen many seasons since that morning I stopped
and went inside this building made four walls
tall.
Now, I greet
you, wandering traveler, you have come so far.
Welcome, Come As You Are
to this
place made four walls tall;
pillars
secured by loving grace.
This is your home and you are free to
roam;
free to be the person God intended
you to be.
Welcome, my friend,
Come As You Are,
you have traveled so
far.
You
may enjoy following my blogs:
Pottery Maker
written by
Jeannette Zink
August 29, 2016
Inspired by Isaiah 64:8
There is a warmth in this midnight air;
the Pottery Maker labors without care;
art perfection blazing with flare;
broken and flawed met not with disgusted glare;
imperfection hailed as beauty in this warm midnight air.
The Pottery Maker knows well the clay held in hand;
remnants scattered and found in states of worst to bland;
creator of grace traveling throughout the land;
search and found just as plan;
the Pottery Maker knows well the clay held in hand.
There is love and joy with each turn of the Pottery Maker’s wheel;
we, the benefactor of this kindred spirit-fill;
gift of mercy given without conditional will;
mold us by hand with each turn of the Pottery Maker’s wheel.
There is a warmth in this midnight air;
the Pottery Maker labors without care;
art perfection blazing with flare;
broken and flawed met not with disgusted glare;
imperfection hailed as beauty in this warm midnight air.
You
may enjoy following my blogs:
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock … gift from my Clock
written by
Jeannette Zink
August 28, 2016
I give to you this gift each new day,
said the Clock to the Keeper.
Every second, every minute gloriously
crafted from the exquisite threads of a fine new day.
Gladly, I share these offerings wrapped
by the ribbons of grace.
Come,
celebrate – Creative Spirit – this is your day; this is your place.
Please do not waste my precious gift on mindful thoughts
lesser in value than
your true self, your
intended purpose, your truth, your voice.
The universe longs for the authentic YOU … the one you were
created to be.
Come, celebrate –
Creative Spirit – this is your day; this is your place.
***
I give to you my token vow, said the Keeper to the Clock,
no longer will I sit at the table of false self and doubtful
thought.
You have my pledge of truth and honor.
Your magnificent gift, now a cherished companion;
forever we travel as one.
Time etched by your sacred whispers;
mystic of journeys soon to unfold –
your treasures are measured in weight of gold;
a feast of gifts to eternally behold.
My paints now primed by dreams made clear.
My voice speaking words in volumes strong and dear.
My jewel palette prepared and readied in the aisles of renewed
soul.
My true self now made whole.
***
Tick-Tock
Tick-Tock
Tick-Tock
***
Faint allusive joy finally come home to nest.
My purpose, my voice, my intended best.
Come, celebrate – Creative Spirit – this is your day; this is your place.
You
may enjoy following my blogs:
Night came Dressed
written by
Jeannette Zink
May 27, 2016
… night came dressed
in rays of incandescent light;
sweet dreams complement
her wardrobe of fantasy delight;
stars woven by poetic
thread dangle from the delicate hem of her aged insight;
mystics don this
night with their keen might;
façade unveiled and
mystery shown bright;
peace the glory hidden
within her story and shared on this nighttime flight;
gracefully embracing the
charms of hope and wishes held tight,
night came dressed in
rays of incandescent light;
sweet her dreams of
this night …
You may enjoy visiting
my blogs:
The Night Magician
written
by
Jeannette
Zink
May 15, 2016
“Can our dreams be caught?” I asked the night magician. “No, my precious child,” said a colbalt blue whisper. “Not even I can lasso the magic awaiting inside
each treasured hope and wishful desire.”
Our dreams
are meant to be on display, to be examined with curiosity, to be touched by the
starry glimmers of mystery, and to be nurtured from the woven ribbons made by
delicate hands of brave beads and cheerful golden jewels.
“Cherish the
journey of your dreams, my child,” said the night magician. “Dance on the wings
of their freedom and explore with a pure heart their possibilities.”
Can our dreams be caught? No, my child.
They must always be free to travel their intended destiny.
“Peace and
love,” whispered the night magician. “Always
remember to dream without a net and to chase the beauty in each passionate discovery.”
Colors have Feelings
too
written by
Jeannette
Zink
March 27, 2016
The star
mist colors rode across the lips of early morning dawn. Their fragile wings were elegant in strength
and polished by the promises of last moonlit night. The rich tones of silence, measured by the volume
of a whisper, greeted this mystic palette of golden treasures. These brave and bold colors, gentle in
appearance and dressed by the hues of gemstone and jewel, our heroes in this
landscape of a pristine new day.
Their story,
not yet cast but secure in merit, written with a pen dipped in the sweet magic
of kindred spirits and forgiving souls. We
felt their essence and knew their depth by each brush stroke they spread with the
radiance of grace assured to linger in the palm of each new day.
These star
mist colors, feeling the language of our heart and the compassion of our desire,
carry us to the edge of our better self.
The rest up to us to find the talisman that will rouse our creative heart
and foster the charitable reasons for a life we choose to paint from the
palette of each new day.
My kindred
spirits… may the blessings and colors of your misty dawn bring you peace and joy
each and every pristine new day.
You may enjoy visiting my blogs:
Morning Goodness
written by
Jeannette
Zink
March 12,
2016
I am not a
morning person. There I’ve said it; the
truth is now out there in the universe.
I wish I could tell you otherwise; but, the truth will set you free and
that’s the truth! However, if I were a
morning person, just how would the wee hours of the morning look and feel to me…
I wonder, not necessarily intent on finding the answer, but more of a pondering
kind of exercise. Might the hours take
on a more poetic essence; the shower becoming a cleanser for the soul; the
thinking more purifying; and, perhaps the perfect venue for washing yesterday’s
regrets down the drain to make way for the freshness awaiting each shiny new
penny of a day.
Morning Hour Poet
The early morning hours, woven between the fold of
what-if moments and the dreamy mist of second chances, know the wait will soon
be over. The dawn readied to acquiesce
the
shiny penny of a new day.
Secure in the arms of aspiration; embraced by unlimited
potential; these rays of belief sparkle in wonder and magic that greet
the shiny
penny of a new day.
Maybe the early morning hours will be my friend; succumbing to
this benefactor of hope; yes, these hours of refresh may have earned their
place of measured possibilities;
the shiny penny of a new day.
Do not curse the early morning hours. Their time is not a fault. They are a gift given from the night sleep to
prepare us for
the shiny penny of a new day.
Will I ever find my peace with the
early morning hours … maybe; the poet is forever the gentle observer of a
cosmos that remains open to each shiny penny of a new day … even in its wee
early morning hours.
Peaceful mornings … my dear kindred
spirits.
You may enjoy visiting my blogs:
Sorting Things Out
written by
Jeannette
Zink
February 14, 2016
It Does Not Matter …
the distance;
the years;
the baggage;
the challenges;
the disappointments;
the reasons.
What Does Matter …
the heart
will always know
the things
of importance;
the heart
will sort things out;
yes, the
heart will always know
what does matter;
rest now weary
soul,
the heart will
sort things out.
Dancing with Daddy
“an Adalyn Grace poem”
written by
Adalyn
Grace’s great-aunt
Jeannette
Zink
January
16, 2016
Yesterday,
I danced on top of daddy’s toes
holding tight to his strong fingers of love.
Today, I
danced in daddy’s footsteps
clapping
to a tune that only we could hear.
Tomorrow,
I dance in the arms of daddy’s unconditional love
remembering the music
from a time when …
I danced
on top of daddy’s toes
holding
tight to his strong fingers of love.
Love you,
Daddy
Adalyn
Grace
“20
years from today”
Stepping Stones for the Kindred of Spirit
written by
Jeannette
Zink
January 7,
2016
Dream
Imagine
Believe
Magic
Each dancing with our soul;
Each embracing our spirit;
Each touching our heart;
Each knowing our gift;
Each cherishing our uniqueness;
Each sharing our universe.
Each a reason for our hopes;
Each a stepping stone for our tomorrows;
Each a cheering team for our courage;
Each planning our journey;
Each securing our place to …
Dream
Imagine
Believe
Magic
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