Sunday, September 10, 2017

God Watches Out for Me

Art by David Bowman

God Watches Out for Me
©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

In ways I cannot always see,
I know God watches out for me––
His loving instinct to protect
expressed as I might not expect.

Storms threaten, and I beg release;
instead, He leads me to His peace. 
I call on Him to still the sea;
most times, He simply buoys me.

Illness descends; I pray for cure.
He lifts me higher to endure.
This mountain is too steep, I plead,
yet He removes it not from me.

Ease keeps us small, too weak to stand;
struggle and strength go hand-in-hand.
Still, when woes rush at me in pairs,
sometimes I wonder if He cares.

Then in my heart of hearts I kneel,
as He assures His love is real.
In ways I cannot always see,
I know God watches out for me.

for more poems, click below

Friday, August 11, 2017

Depression: Cornering the [Black] Market

©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

You don't understand me,
he said.
No one knows
of the suffering
stored in my soul.

I told him of dark days
I stumbled 
and bled,
days when life nearly
swallowed me whole.

But it wasn't the same,
he insisted;
his pain
was unique and mine
could not compare.

My empathy suspect,
my counsel
in vain,
I held back things
I wanted to share.

It bruised me to look
 at him,  
caught up in
misery, claiming
it all as his own.

He holds the black shadow
so close to 
his chest
that he's left
to do battle alone.

for more poems, click below

Friday, June 23, 2017

Taking Back the Knack

©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

I think I may have lost the knack
that surely was my stock in trade
in days gone by. The years have made
me less adept. I've gone off track.

Relationships: I had a gift
of sensing need, meeting it well.
But lately, I am empty shell,
and every comer gets short shrift.

Oh granted, things are crazy here.
A drooping sun. A spinning moon.
Wheels of (mis)fortune turn too soon.
No respite. Toxic atmosphere.

Machine gun miseries from all.
A clip of trouble raining down.
Can't keep my people off the ground.
Can't always see them when they fall.

It rankles when I fail to see.
Not used to it. Don't like it much.
I'm fading, dropping balls and such.
Not quite the force that once was me.

Used up. Burned out. Like melted wax.
Point taken. I'm no northern star.
But they're my heart. Straight up, they are.
And I'll not drop them through the cracks.

for more poems, click below

Friday, April 21, 2017

A Postcard Wave

©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

Just jotting down a word or two
to let you know that I love you
and miss you, too, if truth were told.
(The bathroom grout is sprouting mold.)

Just blowing kisses o'er the sea,
hoping you'll blow some back at me.
I've also blown a bit of cash.
(Got super bored and drained our stash.)

No need to fret. I'm A-OK.
Don't hurry home and save the day.
I'm muddling along just fine.
(Wait! When's that income tax deadline?)

for more poems, click below

Sunday, April 16, 2017

What Will We Give?

What Will We Give?
©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

The Savior in Gethsemane
consumed our sins on bended knee,
took every sorrow, every loss
and broke them on the rough-hewn cross.

Christ sealed His gift in grief and pain,
renewed each heart in sacred rain
of Living Water, lifeblood spilled.
The ransom, paid. The law, fulfilled.

His temples pierced by thorny crown,
He laid His tortured body down.
The sacred flesh, abused and torn,
roused heaven and earth to weep, to mourn.

The tomb received Him as her own;
disciples wavered, left alone,
forgetting promises profound:
The ties of death would be unbound.

For Christ the Lord atoned for all;
no grave could hold Him, nor forestall
the blessings of eternity.
He lived! He lives! to set men free.

A Brother gave Himself in love.
The risen Lord now waits above.
What will we give? May our lives be
reflections of His charity.

Happy Easter!
He is risen!! 

Friday, April 7, 2017

The Path of Peace

©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

I love those peaceful moments of the heart
when mind and spirit finally run free,
the fleeting moments, seldom set apart,
when every soul is stilled to breathe, to be.

The quiet morning, jeweled in drops of dew,
the dusk as sunset colors fade to gray,
the mountaintop with wildflower view,
the friendly clouds to float each fear away.

A white dove calls; an eagle takes the sky.
A raindrop freshens bits of budding spring.
The redwood tree sends branches reaching high.
Soft sweetgrass waves its welcome, beckoning.

Across the earth, the beauty is profound:
serenity and nature, hand in hand.
The senses rise in sight and scent and sound,
collecting peace from grove to sea to sand.

And yet, absent the grace and power of God,
no wave would crest, no blossom bless the air.
It is His path of peace that all must trod,
and He waits patiently to lead us there.

for more poems, click below

Monday, April 3, 2017


©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

A rock is sure, reliable,
predictable and sane.
Its nature, set in solid stone,
shows little wax or wane.

Whatever changes must evolve
spread out across the years.
No shock and awe, no sudden swoon
when something new appears.

 Its smooth and soothing sturdiness
feels pleasing to the hand,
so cool against a fevered palm,
so warm in summer sand.

The properties are plain to see;
the texture sleek or rough.
This friend-that-can-be-counted-on
is tested, tried, and tough.

A rock seems an unlikely ally.
Keep one at the ready.
When all the world is shifting shapes,
a touchstone holds you steady.

for more poems, click below

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Woman, Be Bold

©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

Reach up. Draw lightning from the sky.
Call down the rain on shifting sands.
Become the one who understands
where strength resides.
Control the tides; create your wake;
trust in your flow for its own sake.
No looking back, except to marvel
in the glory. You live the story.

And so be bold, be bold for you;
be bold for women far from view.
Be brave and real; contrive to feel
the rightness there.
Summon the wisdom of the womb.
Assume the mantle of your birth.
Ignite a flame across the earth
for woman's due. Begin with you.

My thoughts on International Women's Day.

for more poems, click below

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Love Sings

©2017 Susan Noyes Anderson

Love is a shell in golden sand,
a secret in a willing hand,
a piece of beauty worth its keep,
as mighty as the sea is deep.

Walk carefully on distant shores.
The ocean whispers, crashes, roars.
Be not distracted; find that one
reflected in the morning sun.

Embrace the gift, divinely made.
Let not the sacred music fade.
Hear all the magic; guard it well.
Live every tale it has to tell.


I like the notion of love as a fragile yet mighty shell waiting to be found by the right person. Discernment is everything, and choosing the one who will sing his or her music to you over a lifetime should be a careful process. Once found, that lovely gift is worthy of every protection, for it is truly magic. And oh, what stories a true and lasting love has to tell!

for more poems, click below

Sunday, December 25, 2016

To This End Was He Was Born

We had a beautiful Christmas service last Sunday, one that left me filled with the spirit of Christ's birth. I was grateful when the poem shared below came to me rather quickly on Saturday morning, as I had been running behind all week, and it was meant to conclude the program. Happily, I was able to read the completed poem as planned, proving to me once more that prayer works! I hope it honors the Savior as much as I honor Him, on Christmas Day and always.

To This End Was He Born
©2015 Susan Noyes Anderson

A child was given to the world
one perfect, starlit night.
He came to bless us with His truth
and fill our souls with light.
He was the Son of God and Mary,
human yet divine,
the only One who had the pow’r
to take your sins and mine.

The angels heralded His birth;
the very skies took part,
and shepherds ventured from their flocks
to offer Christ their heart.
Even the Magi worshipped Him,
arriving from afar
to celebrate the newborn King
beneath that guiding star.

His mission was a saving one.
Christ taught us how to live.
No sacrifice too great, He offered
all He had to give.
His gifts were many. When a child,
He spake as if a man.
The people wondered at the boy
but did not understand.

Though Jesus could not fully know
the path His feet would trod,
He soon began to sense His mission
as the Son of God.
He grew in strength and wisdom as
His purpose was defined.
He was the Father’s firstborn Son,
the Savior of mankind.

His ministry began with words:
three words, “Come, follow me.”
He chose apostles, simple men,
to share His company.
Disciples followed Christ as well,
inspired by His stories.
Beside Him, they learned much about
God’s kingdom and its glories.

Along the way, from place to place,
Christ healed, and saved, and blessed.
The blind could see; the lame could walk;
the suffering soul found rest.
Even the dead took up their lives,
if Jesus willed it so.
“Who is this man?” the people asked,
“and whither does He go?”

“I go before thy face,” said He.
“Hear me, and heed my voice.
Who chooses to obey my words
hath reason to rejoice.”
The righteous loved His goodness, but
the wicked feared his power.
They yearned to steal His life and
plotted evil, hour-by-hour.

When Jesus knew the end was nigh,
He gathered up His men
and gave them a last supper…
His way to say amen
to all that He had taught them.
Later, He brake the bread
and offered up the wine
as blood and body in His stead.

“One of ye shall betray me, one
deny me,” Jesus said.
Judas revealed Him with a kiss;
Peter, in panic, fled.
Early, entreated by their Master
a close watch to keep;
Peter, James, and John failed Christ
by falling fast asleep.

But Jesus knew the task was His
and bore the weight alone
of every sin and grief and sorrow
all the world could own.
He bore it until blood escaped
from every sacred pore;
and when they raised Him on the cross,
He chose to suffer more.

He chose to suffer, for the power
was His to end it all;
but He was born to rescue us,
to save us from the Fall.
“Here am I, send me,” He said,
so long and long ago.
Jesus knew well the sacrifice
required here below.

Christ gave His life so willingly,
‘midst earthly judges’ scorn.
In agony, He bled and hung;
for us, His flesh was torn.
For us, His life was forfeited.
He died, that we might live;
and ere He gave His body up,
pled, “Father, please forgive.”

He begged forgiveness for us all.
As shepherds guard their sheep,
our Savior and Redeemer gave
His life, our souls to keep.
And when He took it up again,
the promise was fulfilled.
The Son of God, the Son of Man,
had done as Father willed.

A newborn baby in a stall,
a gentle mother’s heart.
Two fathers, one on earth and one
in heaven, from the start.
Animals and angels, shepherds,
wise men from afar…
all beheld the baby Jesus,
born beneath a star.

The brightest star in all the heavens…
How else could it be?…
The Light of Christ is brilliant.
May it shine through you and me.
On this and every Christmas Day,
the gift He seeks is clear:
that we receive His gift to us
and keep it through the year.

Our love for Him is manifest
in how we choose to live…
in loving one another;
in striving to forgive;
in honoring His sacrifice
by offering our own;
in doing what we must to kneel,
one day, before His throne.

To this end was He born; for this
cause came He to the earth.
Rejoice! Rejoice! And sing Noel
for our dear Savior’s birth.
Hosannah in the highest…Peace
on earth, good will to men.
Let every soul sing praise to Him
forevermore. Amen.


For more Christmas here.

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