When I was 10, my 5th Grade teacher introduced me to the world of poetry. As part of our English grade we had to memorize a poem a week throughout the year. The memorizing wasn't bad, it was the reciting of poem in front of him for a grade that I hated.
Although, I didn't enjoy reciting poems in front of people, I fell in love with reading them.
Here is one of my favorites...
Life is But a Weaving Corrie Ten Boom (The Tapestry Poem)
My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft' times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not 'til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft' times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not 'til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.
Then during the Summer of 1990, I borrowed my moms old typewriter and instead of playing outside everyday like most kids my age, I decided to spend my time creating my own poetry.
