christian poet – Page 6 – Mary Grace Writing

The Truth and Lies of Poetry

There is power in poetic verse. Words roll off the tongue like music, and lose us in the sway of emotions that flood each word. But what about the messages hidden within poetry?
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Electric Lights

Eyes so tightly shut, dark edges shimmer red. Electric blotches painted in yellow’s glowing thread.
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Six Word Stories (28)

Have you ever noticed how beautiful a well made path is? It guides in one of the most unassuming ways. “Please walk here. Yes, you are free to step away, but the way has already been made ready for you.” The most beautiful paths enhance their surroundings, letting you explore without destroying. We use paths…
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Ink Spots

bravery in pen work truth of staining spots tell the story of a heart stocked by fear but still uncaught
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Fahmidan Journal/Issue 6. Autoimmune and Mental Health Worriers.

I was honored to have my poem Splinter accepted for Fahmidan Journal’s 6th Issue. The themes for this issue is so important to share. As someone who deals with PCOS and mental health issues, it’s beautiful to see so many contributors coming together to bring some hope. Follow the link to read Issue 6. Autoimmune…
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Author’s Interview/BY Kirsten McNeill

I was recently the subject of my first author’s interview with Kirsten McNeill. Kirsten is a fellow writer, as well as an editor for self-published authors.
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Six Word Stories (24)

The Mourning Dove is not a creature I ever thought about before our first homeschool unit last September. There are several pairs that call our neighborhood home, and a few of them even wintered here instead of flying south. Our feeder was a welcome buffet. Their call is a haunting song of love. I was…
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Six Word Stories (21)

He knew the sound of a healthy engine. He could tell what was off… The sound wasn’t right.
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Six Word Stories (19)

Why is spring so fraught with rain? Why does it pour and spatter and spit? Dissolving snow and rinsing grime from my window pane, it’s like He knows the earth needs a good morning shower. Or is it grief, a liquid love? Does He weep for those who have fallen asleep in the cold shadow…
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When the Kids Are Home

Plush rug of red huesToes settle in to fibersFood crumbs giggle felt Satisfying thunkAs toys tossed in to trunkSound of spill down hall Peanut butter smileHandprints left on window, wallKiss smells of childhood ©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef
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