stories of travel, medical missions, and more
Feet falling
Muffled crunching
Wooded trail up ahead
Rain falling
Branch dripping
Tangled wood—mossy bed
Twig snapping
Water rushing
Down a stream-like footpath
Sweet smelling
Needle dropping
Sticky White Pine wood-sap
Trail turning
Hill climbing
Up then down a Sawtooth ridge
Sun shining
Lake reaching
Come, find that stony shore and sit
anthony forrest
Help me Lord, when I fall,
to stand and begin again.
For if I stay crumbled and small
God will not be praised.
Yet if while down, I cry,
“Lord your will, your way,”
His strength to do what’s right
will fit me for a new day.
anthony forrest
I cast a gaze past the rocks
And the pounding watery flow
I look beyond the dark red sky
And the setting sun below
I hear the song of the wind
And calm to me does bring
When knowing this that Jesus Christ
Is maker of all things
As the glowing sun begins to set
And its colors slowly change
The gull swoops low to find a home
And her nest to rearrange
Evening came but now is gone
Yet in my heart still rings
That Jesus Christ the Lord of all
Is maker of all things
anthony forrest
Silence broken
Interrupted by bird’s cries
Morning seen
Igniting dark skies
Slow rousing
Fog-bogged mind
Waking
Step outside
Breathe in
Breathe out
Clouds forming from the mouth
Cool dewy air
Take coffee in hand
And sit in chair
By fireside
And ease into the day
anthony forrest
Autumn morning cool and gray
Sunless clouded sky
Leaves shiver though chilled
On trees that sway
Awakening from an even colder night
Rust-colored remnants lay about
Not discarded willfully
But torn of wind
Hastily thrown to the ground
Scattered thoughtlessly
Tree and wind act of their own accord
Autumn comes—slow, at first
Building upon itself
Layers of cold and color and mirth
The world to engulf
In the retelling of this tale once again
anthony forrest
Turn and stare on the land at all the
Night-scenes that were once unseen
But now marked clean with the silver sheen
Of the rays of moon light and the night-sight
Guiding wandering feet on paths unhidden
By the white-grey moon-spray
Spraying down on a
Sleeping ground
Stop.
Turn around.
See secrets revealed and pealed
Back by the moon shining
Back the black
Of the night giving sight to all
Still.
Awake.
anthony forrest
The coursing river of foot-traveled trail
flows northward through valley and vale.
Boulders and stones and their smaller pebble-friends
live here among the grasses and the ferns and the fens.
Bulky stones, and flat ones too, jut upward from far beneath.
Slyly they talk and plan ways to catch or trip feet.
Friends they have (of the Cedar sort) with sweet-smelling trunks;
reaching into, then back from, underground; weaving a wooden root-maze, partially sunk.
At times wet and muddy and at times not at all;
the trail has no preference, whether Spring or Fall.
Welcome to this place. Come, walk, run, and play.
But it’s more than a winding wooded road. It’s a Temple in which to pray.
Blue blaze on tree and stone guides pilgrims, young and old,
on a trail headed further north—Superior and bold.
anthony forrest
Twilight Breaks within the sky
Its colors ever glowing
Sunrise of this day draws nigh
The morning dew now showing
It pushes back the morning star
Returning to his home
But wishes that he’d not go far
Wanting ne’r to be alone
Twilight breaks and colors change
Cutting through the trees
Passion and beauty rearrange
Once more the soul to seize
A focused part of this timeless morn
Even though the day must start
Closer brings the sun, the light reborn
Yet the Dawn forever keeps my heart.
anthony forrest
Upon the water
Painted fire
From morning skies above
Dance without care
Or fear of shame
For its liquid burning love
White caps toss
Painted fire
There! Now to now fro
Gleaming sheets
Of sun-cast seas
This I love the most
anthony forrest
With all of my heart and pieces of being
I cry praise before an angel mob.
Your unending truth and relentless love
buckle my legs beneath the weight
of Your Name.
One day all will fall as I have fallen
and exalt all of His ways.
They will fall and lift heart
to the One on high, and forever
give Him praise!
Though on high is He and King of creation,
he bends to heal the heart of a peasant.
From a distance my God knows
the prideful heart,
cold,
full of resentment.
How fearful the road and full of danger,
anger
from those who mock the King.
Yet His purpose will pass by His always love,
and a firm grasp of the right hand of rescuing.
anthony forrest
© 2026 Travel and Verse
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑