VoicesNet.com Recent Poems of Kristine J. Trudeau - Copyright for all poems displayed belong to author

MY GREATEST AIM by Kristine J. Trudeau

8/19/2009

What is my greatest aim in life?
To worship God;
To love as Jesus loves;
To obey the promptings of the Holy Spirit;
To live knowing Jesus Christ and die knowing He knows me.

-Kristine J. Trudeau, August 19, 2009

Soul Sold For Gold by Kristine J. Trudeau

7/27/2009

My heart is cold
No hand to hold
Sorrows untold
Voice has grown bold
Oh, the lies told
My soul I've sold
Handful of gold
_______

Out in the cold
His hand I hold
Sorrows consoled
Praises grow bold
Lies go untold
My soul's resold
For heaven's gold

--Kristine J. Trudeau, July 27, 2009

God's Songs of Love by Kristine J. Trudeau

6/8/2009

In the flicker of a squirrel's tail,
the yellow blur of a finch in flight,
I sense love songs of the Creator
and know I'll never be quite
the same again.

-Kristine J. Trudeau
June 8, 2009

The House of the Dead by Kristine J. Trudeau

6/6/2007

When did the numbness set in?
When did the memories come with no thoughts for tomorrow?

Look inside me and you will find a broken heart turned cold.
Kiss me and you will taste, not honey, but vinegar with the sting of frostbite.
Touch me and feel my cold dry bones smothered in ivory silk.

The numbness—it started in my brain making it impossible to make decisions and barely able to speak.
It worked its way into my extremities until I became less than human—a zombie.

It would be a blessing if the numbness took over my breathing, or has it already?
I can no longer tell. It’s the numbness, you see.

Only those who are like me live here.
We live in the House of the Dead;
our address is Depression.

My Friend Lois by Kristine J. Trudeau

6/6/2007

We may not see each other for weeks at a time—
We may have different interests and live in different towns—
We may not talk on the phone or gossip all day long—
But when we finally get together time and differences drop away
and all that’s left is friendship that grows more precious by the day.

Sponge Bob by Kristine J. Trudeau

6/6/2007

He’s yellow and he’s wacky and he wears a tie and shirt.
He’s full of funny sayings, but his square pants are a quirk.

His best friend is pink and dopey, has bulging eyes and a pointy head.
But when Sponge Bob gets in trouble, it’s usually with a squid.

He likes to chase jelly fish, flip crabby patties, sing and play—
Sponge Bob is the greatest! Hey, what more can I say?

When Friendship Ends by Kristine J. Trudeau

6/5/2009

"Friends forever," that's what we said.
Who would have thought, I'd write with dread,
"Our friendship, it has ended."

I hold no grudge, no hate, no harm.
But what you said, set off alarms.
And friend, I won't betray my husband.

Don't ask me, "Choose - spouse or friend."
Friends will always lose in the end.
Attack my spouse, and you attack me.

So, this is it. Don't call. Don't write.
Truth is, I refuse to fight.
You made your choice, when you forced me to make mine.

June 5, 2009
Kristine J. Trudeau

THE BARRIER by Kristine J. Trudeau

6/4/2009

THE BARRIER

I awaken and think...
This will be the day.
I can do this; scale the wall I've built between us.
Cross the gulf that separates us;
Chop down the forest of mistakes, misunderstandings, hurtful words,
And worse, silence-that unseen, impenetrable barrier.
But before noon, I have changed my mind.
I can't do this.

The barrier...
Words unspoken that could break the barrier.
Words unspoken out of fear...pride?
Would the words be flung back at me, only to hurt?
Pride won't let me try.
Why should it be me who takes the first step?
Fear won't let me try.
What if it doesn't work? What if I just get hurt again?

That awful barrier...
The barrier-builder of "What if?" and "Why bother?"
Thinking it could never be the same, keeps me silent.
Our only hope is that I place my trust, not in fragile human love,
But in the love that transcends hurts, distrust and pain-the love of God.
I place my trust in the intercession of the Holy Spirit that changes me from within.
I place my trust in Love that casts out all fear and breaks down the invisible barrier.

June 3, 2009
Kristine J. Trudeau

THE NEWS by Kristine J. Trudeau

6/21/2009

(Dedicated to Carolyn Hines, June 20, 2009)

Today I learned the news
of your soon demise.
Three to six-months,
the news took us by surprise.
We're still in shock and grief,
but you-have your surrendered to the thief?

How do I talk to you
about your pronouncement of death?
How do I talk to you,
of the coming of your last breath?
Of a subject so personal,
how do I broach it with someone I barely know?
A subject so terrifying-is it?
Or is it welcomed, and not a foe?

How do I talk to you about "the news?"

By: Kristine J. Trudeau
June 21, 2009

OF TEARS, FLOWERS, RAIN AND ASHES by Kristine J. Trudeau

6/10/2009

Today is Mom's birthday.
It's raining.
Today we bury Mom's ashes.
I'm crying.
Today my Hibiscus bloomed for the first time.
Mom loved flowers.
Today tears mix with rain.
Mom loved rain.

Kristine J. Trudeau
June 10, 2009 (Mom's birthday, and burial day)

FAITH by Kristine J. Trudeau

5/31/2009

No pain can quench my love for You,
No hurt can kill my trust.

No words can make me doubt You care,
No tragedy - No curse.

No malady can separate the arms of Your embrace.
No vinegar can take away the sweetness of Your taste.

No war can make me doubt that You, still reign upon Your throne.
No disaster on this earth can make me feel alone.

No sickness in my body, no illness in my mind;
No loss of limb, no blindness - Your healing I will find.

May 31, 2009
Kristine J. Trudeau

HOLY SPIRIT by Kristine J. Trudeau

5/31/2009

Holy Spirit, bringer of Light,
Infuse me with Your power and might.
Bring me healing; ease my pain,
Let my prayers not be in vain.

Be the Master of my Soul.
Bring me comfort in my woe.
Save me from this world of sin
And cleanse me deep of sin within.

Though my heart breaks from my past,
Your sweet love gives peace at last.
Holy Spirit, Christ alive,
In my heart and will do thrive.

May 31, 2009
Kristine J. Trudeau

Ode to a Toilet by Kristine J. Trudeau

5/29/2009

You're occupied when I need you.
You run when I'm away.
You back-up when I'm in a rush.
You over-flow when company stays.

You break when my purse is empty.
You leave your lid up as a joke.
You get dirty just in time for guests.
you're going to give me a stroke!

May 29, 2009
Kristine J. Trudeau

ANOTHER DAY by Kristine J. Trudeau

5/20/2010

Our Awesome God has given us another day;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Whether filled with sweet blessings, trials, or dismay;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

- Kristine J. Trudeau, May 20, 2010

Voices by Kristine J. Trudeau

5/16/2007

It started as a line or two
penned in passion
love and compassion
sprinkled upon the paper like jewels of dew.

Two lines expanded to four
and as the heart poured out its choices
it knew that it must share its thoughts with Voices,
a safe place for the heart and so much more.

Headless Chickens by Kristine J. Trudeau

4/7/2007

At the tender age of six,
On a bright summer day
My mother turned me loose
And said I could go out and play.

So, I jumped on my bike
And away I flew,
Around the block,
With the sky so blue.

Just learning to ride,
The brakes were sticky.
Concentrating on turning
Those corners was tricky.

Rounding the third corner,
I heard an awful racket.
A witch was popping chickens’ heads off
And she didn’t use a hatchet.

Headless chickens running here and there,
A headless chicken in the tree.
Blood and feathers splattered everywhere,
A headless chicken chasing me.

Screaming bloody murder,
I pedaled with all my might.
The witch was killing chickens.
Oh, what an awful sight!

Looking behind me, but pedaling forward,
Fearing the chicken with no head,
I hold the scars where I left my knuckles
On the side of the witch’s shed.

I can still hear my mother’s laughter,
When she tells of my horrific day,
When she could hear my screams, and cries
From a half-a-block away,

She tells of the kind old woman
Who would wring her chickens’ necks
And accidently scared a six-year-old
Nearly half to death.

Writing at Night by Kristine J. Trudeau

4/5/2007

There is a time in the night that I like the best,
the TV is off and everything is at rest.
No more toil for the day, no more gripes, no more plans;
just me and my pen, my paper and my hands.

Battling the day noise that still pollutes my mind,
the soothing quiet of the night brings peace and calm combined.
And with the calm a spark of art floats in the midnight hour,
a poem, a song or story is birthed unfolding like a flower.

Who would have thought that in the night such wonder could be wrought;
pictures and stories created with words that started with a single thought.

I Wanted To Be. . . by Kristine J. Trudeau

4/28/2007

I wanted to be a ballerina,
But I didn’t have the grace.
I wanted to be an artist,
But I couldn’t draw a face.

I wanted to be an actress,
But I couldn’t learn my part.
I wanted to be an archaeologist,
But I didn’t know where to start.

I wanted to be a cowgirl,
But I couldn’t stay on my horse.
I wanted to be a speaker,
But I never finished the course.

I wanted to be a chef,
But I didn’t like to measure.
I wanted to be an astronaut,
But I couldn’t stand the pressure.

I wanted to be a seamstress,
But I never liked to sew.
I wanted to be a policeman,
But the pay was way too low.

I wanted to be a doctor,
But I couldn’t stand the hours.
I wanted to be a botanist,
But I’m allergic to flowers.

I wanted to be a pianist,
But could never find the right keys.
I wanted to be a veterinarian,
But I really hate fleas.

I wanted to be a gymnast,
But I could never do the splits.
I wanted to be a scientist,
But my grade in chemistry was the pits.

I wanted to be a trucker,
But I kept on getting lost.
I wanted to be a retailer,
But you wouldn’t believe the cost!

I wanted to be a mortician,
But all my clients were dead.
I wanted to be a writer,
So I’m doing it instead.

Attack of the Writing Demon by Kristine J. Trudeau

4/26/2007

Writing and writing
All through the night.
Morning has come
And it’s still not right.

Shred every paper,
‘til each word’s a mite.
Feeling much better,
Now, for the rewrite...

A Letter to God by Kristine J. Trudeau

4/19/2007

I’ve been silent for too long, Lord,
Which is silly, since I first learned
To talk to You, by writing You letters.

Remember how uncomfortable I was
When I first attempted to talk to You out loud?
I felt silly, like I was talking to myself.

Writing letters to You helped me
To begin to picture You as a real person.
You were no longer elusive,
And though You remained the Invisible God,
You took on substance in my heart and mind,
And I saw You in Your creation and in Your love.

So, here we are again, Lord,
Only this time it’s not because I don’t want to talk to You,
It’s because I can’t.
And now I am forced to write to You
Because thinking my prayer at You isn’t enough,
Even though You know my thoughts
and what I need before I ask.

You see, Lord, writing to You is faith in action.
I need to see the words that I would speak to You
Because I won’t hear them. And I ask that one of my angels
be allowed to carry this letter to You and read it in my stead.

And someday, Lord, if you see fit to give me back my voice,
I’ll not only talk to You, again, but I’ll write for You a new song
And sing it to You, too, not as bribery, but in praise, worship and joy.

But for now, I just want You to know, Father God, that I love You
And I appreciate all that You have done for me through the years.
You have shown yourself ever faithful and loving;
You’ve wiped away many of my tears.
You’re always ready to guide me when I’ll listen
and patient when I don’t.
You never leave me nor forsake me,
And when I doubt this, You remind me that You won’t.
Thank you, Lord.