In Accidental Power


Apparently with no surprise

To any happy Flower

The Frost beheads it at its play -

In accidental power -

The blonde Assassin passes on -

The Sun proceeds unmoved

To measure off another Day

For an Approving God.


white roses, white rose bud, rose buds, rose's bud

5 Seasons

tree with orange leaves, trees changing colour

5 Seasons

It was just a shadow

The next test results will show

There is no reason for tears and fears

Again my face will glow


Stupid doctors with their vague answers

Calls to ears that don’t understand

I don’t have time for this

This was not the life I planned


I’ll buy the best doctor

Money doesn’t matter anymore

I tell God I’ll do anything

As I pray face down on the floor


I prayed, I gave, I ate healthy

What more was there to do

Now here I sit awaiting it

This is the season of blue


And now the last season

In which I find my peace

I lived the life I had

Now comes my release



I am surprised to find that I haven’t shared this poem yet. It is one of my favorites.

I hope you guys like it. Remember to hit the Like button if you do, or leave me a comment.

Hello? It’s haiku calling.

bird on tree, tree with bird

stepping outside

leaving the cellphone inside

so I can hear the birds call


Are you setting limits? When was the last time you unplugged?


The first person to say YOLO.

You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough. -Mae West


I don’t know where yelling YOLO before doing something dangerous and/or stupid came from, but I think Mae West may have been the first to say it.

Alcohol (a poem)

fireworks, fireworks and smoke, pyrotechnics



Liquid pleasure fill my brain

Make me forget the day

Wash the darkness down

Why is it when I need

To be lifted in spirit

Spirits bring me down

Laissez les bons temps rouler

But I slide down with the darkness

Flushed away with the vomit

The wine was supposed to

Make me forget my misery

But here I sit crying

Because I choose a depressant

When I needed an upper


To an imperial few


Morning is due to all -

To some – the Night -

To an imperial few -

The Auroral light.



white roses, white rose bud, rose buds, rose's bud

Death and Publishing

graveyard, headstones, cemetary, morning light



All my charming murderers

know that they are smart

They know that I am less

Maybe the next time

I am murdered

I will finally get it

This poem was written as a response to #ntitle 217 prompt from Twitter. I am going to share all of my religious/spiritual/Jesus/Christian poems that no one seems to be brave enough to publish in their journals or reviews. And yes I have tried Christian reviews but they seem to want really long poems or poems that are “edgy Christian poetry.” I sent them some poems that I thought were pushing boundaries while asking relevant questions; they did not get published. I also think that most reviews are looking for poets that have already been published elsewhere and/or have a degree in writing. In their submission guidelines they will say there are looking for fresh new writers, but I notice they publish those who have already been published.

Adam’s Helper

Adam’s helper, Adam’s mate
You could not resist your fate
A hand held out holding sin
A helper you should have been
A helper to remind of God’s Word
You acted like you hadn’t heard
You led him astray, you told him wrong
Now we weep in song
Bone of his bones, first life of living
In pain now we are giving
That was why He came to die
It was Jesus they did crucify
He was lifted for the sin of man
As well as woman
©Symanntha Renn

Black and White (a poem)

B&W, daffodil, flower in black and white

Black and White


Black so dark stands defiantly

White so crisp stands stoutly

Black so bold and apparent

Forces its way into our world

White stays the course

Holding its arrogant head high

Black pushes white and there’s a smudge

White is so shocked to see gray

Gray has appeared from nowhere

Complicating things, a love triangle

Where there were once two

There are now three

And the smudge will not erase

Gray gets bigger blurring the line

Between two apparent choices


©Symanntha Renn

Stone Lips Speak

stone lips

What do you hear when you visit museums? Do you find poetry there?


Life goes on.

In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.   –Robert Frost


I don’t know how your week has gone, but what I do know is whether it was good or bad, life goes on.

On that specific pillow.


On that specific Pillow

Our projects flit away -

The Night’s tremendous Morrow

And whether sleep will stay

Or usher us – a stranger -

To situations new

The effort to comprise it

Is all the soul can do.



white roses, white rose bud, rose buds, rose's bud

A holy place where I can be honest.


At the Altar

My heavy head lies on my arms

Tears stream down my hands

And pool on the glossy wood

I know I will have a red spot

On my forehead when I rise

But I cannot lift my head

It is too heavy with sadness

I have failed yet again

I was angry, jealous and selfish

But humility worked its way in

After conviction put a crack in the door

I am embarrassed to be here

But so thankful that I have a place

To fall to my knees in surrender

To have a holy place where I can be honest

Where I can start over

I take a deep breath and finish praying

Making a commitment to God

I will not be back here again

But in making that promise

God knows He has more work to do

Because He does not need us to be

Feeling accomplished and complacent

He wants us to be in a state of urgency

Running and hurrying to advance His work

Before the trumpet sounds

He wants us to know

The power that sin has

That people do stupid things

In times of weakness

So in bringing a hurting heart here

In laying down my sins and presumptions

I am picking up a piece of holiness



At or in what holy place do you most feel the presence of God?