Lora Colon

Gold Star - 12,605 Points (26 September 1944 / Missouri - United States)

The Swan - Poem by Lora Colon

In quiet moments, that's when I can hear Him,
He tells me He's arranging everything;
The love that I am pleading for will find me -
A swan will come, then look beneath its wing

I spend most days just lingering by the river,
I'm kneeling, and the pain's so hard to bear;
In quiet moments, that's when I can hear Him,
He says He knows that I'm still waiting there

I cried 'O, Father, why am I still longing?
Your words confuse me - they don't mean a thing; '
Keep watching for the swan upon the river,
And then look for the rose beneath its wing

'I'm humbled by Your words, and I'll keep waiting,
Your concepts, far beyond simplicity;
O, Lord, don't turn away, not for an instant,
Your minute is eternity for me'

The sun was glistening on the endless river,
I heard a mighty wind rustling the trees;
I saw a swan come floating in the distance,
It came to me while I was on my knees

The river of despair was overwhelming,
Each day I knelt in search of sweet repose;
Like a feather on the wind my love came to me,
I knew him when he offered me the rose

Comments about The Swan by Lora Colon

  • Bri Edwards (3/11/2016 10:01:00 PM)

    My Echo “Swan Song”

    I bought a goose at the butcher shop,
    I had them, the feet and the head, lop …..off.
    I lugged the goose home to my kitchen,
    and to my surprise the headless bird was itchin’ …
    under one of its pimply, plucked bird arms, ….
    which ….
    set off in my head all sorts of horrible alarms.
    An itching goose? ! How can it be? It is quite dead.
    And that’s when, from beneath its arm came a rose, quite red.
    Then a voice, booming loudly, quite close and stern …..
    said to me “Will you humans there on Earth NEVER learn?
    Just now, not far away, alongside the wide and flowing river ….
    kneels a lady seeking love and passion, as is the current fashion.
    I did my best to help, but along came the butcher boy and set a’bashin’ …
    the poor, now-lifeless (almost) goose. Now the goose will surely be cooked,
    and next time the lady looks for love-assistance, I’ll be so, so ……over-looked!

    bri :)
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  • Mike Barrett (1/3/2014 10:37:00 AM)

    Beautiful! IF you wish, check out my poem, The Bird and the Tree. Cheers! (Report) Reply

  • (12/30/2013 9:48:00 AM)

    your love poems are planted in the heart! (Report) Reply

  • Brian Johnston (12/28/2013 5:37:00 PM)

    Mindful that shapes deceive and breezes die, still I grow,
    no longer just a watcher of clouds.
    I sing a primitive song of desire to the power that
    governs her gathering,
    And open my arms to embrace an answered prayer,
    the moisture of her breath.

    From Like A Farmer
    (Report) Reply

  • David Lessard (12/27/2013 5:34:00 PM)

    Soft and feathery. Full of love's longing. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, December 27, 2013

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