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I walk along the path of life
And only darkness I can see
Though all these things point toward the wrong
God has a plan for me
His caring hand will I take
Now through His comfort I can see
That my loving Lord makes no mistakes
And how He beckons ‘Come unto Me’
anthony forrest
from hand fell the earthenware
emptied of memories and markers in thought
upon the rockface, cold and bare
a new remembrance was formed, bought
anthony forrest
Pine boughs awaken from their timeless frozen sleep
While the decaying remains of dirty snow melt from a heap
Singing bids that bounce and flutter
Talk of Spring and how the Earth begins to muster
All her strength to change her gown of Winter
She dresses now in something less bitter
In trappings of sunshine—a Springtime gem
And the warmth of a new season begins again
anthony forrest
Years ago, my wife and I began making a list of 50 things we’d like to do before we turn 50. Some items are easy, some hard to accomplish. And then some of them are just plain weird.
For so long I’ve wanted to meet someone famous while traveling through and airport. To be walking along and see a popular TV or movie star would be incredible.
I would walk up and ask, “hey, are you [ENTER FAMOUS NAME HERE]?”
“Why yes,” they grin in their terrible disguise of ballcap and sunglasses. “Would you like a picture?”
I would get a selfie and have them sign something, then we’d go our separate ways.
The problem? I’m pretty sure that I could never recognize anybody. And I don’t keep track of who’s popular anymore. It’s a paradox. I want to meet somebody famous. But I never will.
That is, until I walked up to my gate in the Atlanta airport. The delay on our flight to Lima grew longer and longer. We’d boarded and deplaned after a mechanical problem. I stood toward the back of a line of tired passengers, ready to be at their destination. My attitude had faltered, but I was determined to recover it.
So I struck up a conversation with a lady in front of me.
“We’ll eventually get there,” I said, making small talk. She was a kind-looking lady of maybe 60, traveling with her son. Another son was getting married in Peru. We talked of Peru, our respective plans, and then our conversation turned to occupation.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a children’s book author. “
“That’s incredible!”
“Thank you. I write stories and poetry.”
And Joyce Sidman isn’t just any author. She is a multi-award-winning crafter of words. Her poetry and stories bring joy, provoke thought, and nurture souls. If you can find Dark Emperor and Other Poems of the Night, please pick it up (link below). This Newbery Honor winning collection of poetic animal tales and night reflections is breathtaking for kids and adults alike.
As I found my seat and tucked into our six-hour flight, it hit me. I had just met somebody famous in the airport. It hadn’t been the latest action star or big-name in music. Joyce was so much more than that. Her work is actually important. Her work inspires, educates, nurtures hearts, and downright delights.
And it delighted me to meet her.
anthony forrest
About Joyce:
Joyce Sidman is the author of many award-winning children’s poetry books, including the Newbery Honor-winning Dark Emperor and Other Poems of the Night, and two Caldecott Honor books. Her recent book The Girl Who Drew Butterflies: How Maria Merian’s Art Changed Science won the 2019 Robert F. Sibert Medal. She also received the NCTE Award for Excellence in Children’s Poetry, in recognition of her body of work. In her home state of Minnesota, she teaches poetry writing to school children and walks through the woods with her dog Watson.
Warmth that caresses my soul
when troubles come
then slowly go
a gentle breeze
through the leaves
that are my soul
My Father’s hand is in control.
How calm the hand,
my Father’s hand
and scars I see
on these palms
of Jesus, Saviour
I see He bled for me.
That same hand
so tender, caring
holds me lovingly
but firmly, quietly
in true peace that teaches skillfully
…and quietness I finally learn.
anthony forrest
Long-winding watery way
Rain-swollen and muddy-tan
With tall, tall greens on display
On banks of bush and vines like strands
Of tinsel
In a winter-less land
And overhead, flocking hordes of colorful birds
Which, with training, speak words
On the ground, creatures and snakes
Truly a strange land, make no mistake
anthony forrest
Lower back length pottery-tan strands
Hair like golden laced sands
Drop all around her tiny frame
Green eyes gaze upward
She sighs
Knowing more about my soul than I
And though fully tall she meets no eye
Her gentle spirit reaches every cloudy sky
Then back down again to my heart
anthony forrest
Blue ridges of an evening’s fall
In timeless contentment do you sleep
Kind and soft—yet above them all
And even secrets you have, and keep
Your trees climb daring!
High!
Tall!
But touch not the sky
Yet higher than any
Higher than all
Your spirit cannot deny
Hills of peace, sing you songs
anthony forrest
King reigned upon throne
Of change
Upon throne of truth raging
Hands-in-the-sky praying
Asking God for grace to rain down
Soak America and drown
All evil hate
The Good Doctor prescribed
The Word of life
To a Nation deprived
Of the love of Christ
From a throne of change
He spoke of the One True King
Giver of life
Ender of strife
Maker of all things
In the eyes of Whom all men are equal
anthony forrest
he awakens (barely) by a new day drive
to live new moments and thrive
for the pursuit
of passionate living
stumbling and giving
his best
or at least not worst
during each day’s test
and so begins a morning ritual
anthony forrest
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