Dirty Floor

Dirt upon my floor
I know it as much more

Within the scattered mess
Hidden proof I’m blessed

Dried play dough there
A moment without care

Bread crumbs careless brushed
Bellies filled, hunger hushed

Sand tracked all this way
Hearts a brim with play

While I push a broom
Do not now presume

As I cast it out
There is not a doubt

The memories I’ve saved
In my heart, they are engraved

Copyright ©2020 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Loves Art

There is a joy in joining
And when we come apart
The push and pull of day-to-day
Is Love teaching us its art

There is a pain in holding
Too tightly to your hand
It echoes even when released
Time to ease, it does demand

Absence can grow fondness
Take a moment, sit and wait
I’ll learn to soar with my own wings
Just open wide the gate

A little trust will guide us
As situations shift
First, you lead, then it’s my turn
To lift us over rifts

We each have our own value
Separate, and distinct
But when we choose together
Love is an art where we are linked

Copyright ©2020 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Sweet Little Toes

Little toes, ten in a row

Through fraying cloth, they peek
A wriggle, a giggle, off they go!
To dash and then to sneak

Those little toes will not be tamed
With cloth or shoes that reek
Always dancing even prancing
Shedding socks through grass to streak

Be blessed sweet little toes
Are you brave today or meek?
Your giving joy, despite being coy,
Spreading your unique mystique

Copyright ©2020 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Autumn’s Song

Listen to the crowning leaves
Their glory days proceed with ease,
The wind gives to them a voice.
They shout, with shaking leaves, rejoice.
First time snow has run away
Autumn has another day.

Leaves of gold shimmering shine
Their dying days a heaven shrine
They do not weep as down they fall
They lay their royal carpet for all
And all can play in piles of gold
Rich or poor, young or old.

Soon their gold will turn to brown
But in their cries there is no frown
It’s well known they’ve earned their rest
A golden crown marks them as blessed
The first time snow has come and gone
So autumn sings us one last song.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2019


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Titles by Mary Grace van der Kroef

Maple Red

See new blush upon the leaves
Slowly spread
Deepening as it flows
To maples deepest red

Perhaps we humans stole these shades
For moments, soft and close
Painting cheeks as we embrace
Those we adore

A tribute to nature’s love
That depends woody roots
While releasing laughter’s leaves,
Nourishment through winter’s silence

The first sign of this acceptance
This dance that nodes at death
The evidence of time’s ministrations
He flirts with nature’s chilling breath

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Rock Sentinel

Gocking eyes
read your lines
In drive by waves
from metal mines

Bare a soul
ripped wide
So metal mines
can drive straight lines

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Nature’s War

Street lights cast
A shimmering glow
As sheets of rain pass
Row on row.

Drops hit pavement
Scattering dance.
A fight with earth?
Or nature’s romance…

Water escapes
In to each tiny crack.
Eroding man’s hold,
Turning time back.

From pavement to sand,
The battle is slow.
But nature has time,
Time? An endless flow.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Shards of Heaven

In a moment
With a motion
Snapping fingers
Holding time
Hear a song
Slip away
Into a world
Of the sublime

Ask no questions
Of the quiet
In between
The rhythm snap
Let it’s pull
Feed the wonder
Giving answers
Meters map

Comes an ending
To the journey
Settle back
Into the skin
Taking with you
Shards of heaven
Memories
A dreamers inn

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Only People

Only people
the flame of soul
is all you take
to heaven, you know.

All else crumbles
to dust and ash,
but flames of soul
are made to last.

All bodies
fall away, decay.
Wrappings mortal
times earthly prey.

But flames slip
through gaping fangs.
From eternity’s
edges to hang.

Emptied hands then
have a choice.
Hellish solitude,
or gems with voice.

Only people,
treasures that last,
are worthy to store
or to Jesus’s feet cast.

© 2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Contempt

Crumpled paper
creased beyond repair,
cast in exasperation
from a corner, glare.

Proof of irritation
an act of my contempt
for this, my situation
for being nonexempt.

A deadness percolates
thoughts refuse growth
the thing one loves,
slowly steeped in loath.

All a point of view
mutilated page
silence feeding ghosts
rising poets rage.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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