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Poetry by
Jana Toliver
Dragon Slayer
Not long ago,
and not far away,
a little girl, went out to play.
her eyes wide with wonder and a smiling young face,
she skipped and she ran and laughed at life's pace.
the world full of magic,
of awe and surprise.
but mother had warned of a dragons disguise.
he hovered in shadows
and spoke very little,
and longed
for tender young hearts he could whittle.
he'd sit it the midst of the children fair,
and they'd not even be aware he was there.
for a master of games and a game players master.
silent and unseen,
he led down to disaster.
See he takes many forms,
then asks what's your pleasure.
then gives each innocent one a measure.
of what they believe to be
frolic and fun,
and then there doings has left them undone.
mother oh mother, why could I not see,
that the dragon breathed fire, and that fire for me.
and that once my flesh is
scared by his flame,
my tender girls heart could not be the same.
he has shown himself and now I can see,
the span of his wings and the length of his glee.
I can smell the soot,
around his hot nostrils,
and the sound of his panting like a chorus of minstrels.
but the music is such that I longed to not hear.
For It dances with death, and echoes with fear.
I will run to the master.
that's where I shall go.
where the rivers of many waters flow.
theres life giving springs and a fountain of blood.
that flows from a lamb
who was slain for us.
This lamb will do battle,
and yes battle for me.
for I have been wounded, mortally.
But my spirit within, this beast cannot touch.
for my heart has been marked by the one who gave much.
Hes been called by names many,
but I give him my own.
he's The dragon slayer,
and he leads the way home.
Jana Toliver
~~~~~~~~
A Letter To
My Sister
A letter to my sister,
Your on my mind so much,
If I could take your tears away,
Id do it with a touch.
Your sorrow I'd replace,
with sunny rays of joy,
your worth I'd try to show you,
Your a woman , not a toy,
You've many facets to you,
that others may not see.
A gift to be loved and treasured.
not used
or slighted easily.
Your heart within is fragile .
and the feelings you have are true.
there not something to take advantage of,
but should be respected and valued too.
Your life is not a game.
to be played by an uncaring man.
but instead you should be treasured,
and held delicately in a lovers hand.
The parts of you so special,
should never be taken for granted.
and the woman that you are
should not be mocked or slanted.
You deserve respect and honesty.
not crumbs when someone's through.
but given all that love has to give.
In return for a heart that's true.
games are for little children,
and should never ever be played,
by a man who's fully grown, and knows the price you've paid.
for him to have amusement.
when he knows your heart is breaking.
and what he takes from you is a gift
and not for granted to be taken.
You should value your self deeply.
for you are your very own.
and someone that wont see you,
should simply not be shown.
those secret places in your self ,
that few will rarely see.
Instead keep them for you,
and the one that will truly be,
the man that knows how to love and give.
and values a persons spirit,
then take flight little butterfly,
with the sky your only limit.
Jana Toliver
For my sweet Julie
Good bye little butterfly
~~~~~~~~
Naive
I used to dream
when I was young,
Of life and all the things to come,
of marriage, children, family ties.
a world just full of sun drenched skies.
the darker side
I didn't know,
so anxiously,
I longed to go.
And breathe in all of life's perfume,
to thread into its living lume,
the pattern God designed for me.
but now through tear filled eyes I see,
the places where the thread is torn,
the pattern lost,
its fabric worn.
the colors dulling dark and grey,
how could it have been stained that way.
in much that matters I have failed
and many times the tears have trailed
along life's path of broken dreams.
and spilling through its tattered seams
Janna Toliver
~~~~~~~~
Christmas decorations sparkle,
through out this modest home.
The little Christmas village is just bustling as if real.
I almost hear the Christmas carolers singing of Gods light.
and see there melodies fog when mingled with winters night.
oh , such a delight.
to hear the glad songs sung.
to hear the voices ringing
about the Holy one.
The one we all celebrate
this time every yr.
my heart feels so much lighter
when Christmas carols I hear.
there are so many joys
that come in smallest packaging.
and none could take there place
in the bustling and all the happenings
that go about this time of yr,
when the birth of Jesus Christ is near,
when love and joy and peace we share.
and Oh to give to those with none.
this is the reason for the son .I've chosen angels from a tree.
I do this Christmas faithfully.
and hope I might in ways impart
a bit of Christmas from my heart
to all the little girls and boys.
who may have missed some treats some toys.
but more than this, the message blest
that Jesus loves the children best.
Oh merry , merry Christmas to all.
"Suffer the children to come unto me
for of such is the kingdom of heaven".
Janna Toliver
~~~~~~~~
"House"
Poem: Here I am again,
In this place that's so familiar.
And wandering from room to room
I find it hard to handle.
A house that should be vacant.
this place should be torn down.
This old two story fixture.
Its ghosts they still abound.
worn furniture is here still.
tattered curtains cover windows.
That hang so heavy from the dusty secrets that just they know.
And haunting voices whisper,
up and down the darkened hauls.
And I pretend its just the wind
but I know who's name they call.
I must not stay to long
I'm frightened by the sight.
of the shadows dancing on these walls
in the moons mocking light.
My greatest fear,
that I might hear,
the sound of one heart breaking.
As much thats precious and adored from them this place is
taking.
So many times I've tried and failed,
to look upon this house unveiled.
but all that causes it to stand,
is lost inside this woman I am.
and often trembling I awake
as dreams the morning from me takes,
and untold tears these eyes have shed,
for the little girl lost
in the house is dead.
And a garden of roses and zinnias and such,
I've planted in memory for she mattered much,
In the hopes that there fragrance on breezes would blow,
to those vacant places that she's come to know.
Janna Toliver
~~~~~~~~
I see you God
In the sun dancing through the windows glass
In the wind brushing through the trees,
In the face of a child,
In how a mother loves with ease.
In the fluttering butterfly
In the blooming of a rose
In green grass kissed with dew
In the way a garden grows
In the kindness of a friend,
In a thoughtful deed that's done
In the birds building nests
In the way the rivers run.
From the rising of the moon
To the dawning of the sun
In a moment spent in silence
Through battles I have won.
In the hymns on Sunday morning
In the words the pastor speaks
In the valleys green down below
To the highest mountain peaks
In the shedding of hopes blood
On the cross made from a tree.
In the time the earth did cry
when true love felt agony.
In the suffering of your son
The pure and sacred one
In that walk to Calvary
When Jesus died for me.
Oh Lord I want to thank you
though words they seem so small
To offer the creator
Of life of love of all
Oh help me give myself to you
To know you Lords my goal
For a single drop of blameless blood
Saved my searching soul.
Jana Toliver
~~~~~~~~
Sometimes:
I've built a wall
and built it tall
so that the world can't see
what brings the tears
what causes pain
and then it can't hurt me.
Jana Toliver
~~~~~~~~
Falling Down
Last night while all the whole house slept,
The ghost of yesterday it crept,
Into the room where I did lay,
And murmuring, whispering, It did say.
Oh do recall those pages turned,
And as I did my spirit yearned.
And then it spoke what do you see,
Those shadows of what used to be.
That girl with lives hopes still ahead,
yet now you lie here in your bed,
A woman old at thirty five,
Who failed to keep her dreams alive,
And oh, did I just hear you say
You'd trade your tears for yesterday
And live your life a different way.
But the pages...They've all been turned.
And as it left I heard the Chimes
In the old oak tree, tinkling, swaying.
And the haunting distant laughter,
of three small children playing,
Ring around the rosies
pockets full of posies
ashes ashes,
And we've all fallen down.
Jana Toliver
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Jana Toliver
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