Scarlet Robe Creations

Reflections kindled by a flame, soft. A time recent or a time distant. A memory of joy and sorrow, for we have aged this night. Was I a child once, as you? Was I ever ancient until today? Role models in my life have returned home, eager for their maker's embrace. I long for their tenderness and wisdom. Reflections, fleeting from my thought, a song, a taste a verse read and treasured. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Honestly, I yearn for spring, but the white lace of a March snow storm purifies the moment and I am willingly lost in a world of snow covered branches and white pine trees. Purity wipes clean the imprint of past days. What once was gray, brown and black is presented once again, renewed. Honestly, I long for the color green, not of monetary values, but of nature's blessing. Leaves to adorn trees and shade meadows. I am eager to inhale spring air and witness winter's passing. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Snow, last night, doesn't quite cover the scars of the world. The dusting softens the hardness of reality, for a moment, brief. We walk on our journeys, hoping the direction is pure, but the world bleeds through the thin layer of promises made in this life. January is always waiting for spring, just as February will agonize for color and warmth, death and life. I pray that the path beneath my stride is the chosen one, despite my constant rebellion. I have been lost and found, cold and warm. I am the stranger walking on a seldom traveled road, in the evening's light snow. A lacy veil barely covering the scars of the world. copyright 2018 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

A Poem from a collection never completed titled  'A Winter Soul'.     Three followed a star, in sojourn, before I was able to develop my own thought. By stars of heaven over Middle Eastern sand. Lights that guide seekers when they wander empty. War rages where faith was born. As it always has and always will. I decorate, I sing carols, I watch a tree’s reflection in the window pane and hope to see the same star as the one followed by the three. copyright 2007 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

The last leaves have prepared to fall, trusting the designer of beauty to change the color of their garments and separate them from the branch of life. Faithfully ready to let go, to float gracefully to the soil, a journey directed by the breath of creation. November chill, makes brittle what was once ripe, preparing our souls for December and the white veil of winter. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

Days of gray have been somber. My prayer has struggled for a voice. The storms rage trying to weaken my foundation. My tears have become a dry river bed. My thoughts are held  in the grip of the world, twisted by the complacency of a sinful nature. Days of darkness, days of bitter wine and dense shadows are not without value when the eastern sky glows and the Lord calls me into the light. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author