No Fictitious Season

Life’s current season

‘Tis not by least fictitious

Though surreal it seems

Who would write these dour chapters

As if romantic drama


Yes, we will come through

With grit, faith, some survive all

But we need to weep

Not suppress tears, freely flood

Wash out stress-filled fears, anguish


The Lord Himself wept

Old saints’ prayers pool ‘neath their feet

Desperate, fervent pleas

Rescue, deliv’rance, relief

Grateful praise sung at morning

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Stay the Forward Course (3LineTales)

photo by Raychel Sanner via Unsplash


The road appeared to go on indefinitely and emptily, which inspired no confidence nor courage.

And even with half-blind (cataract) eyes it was apparent there was a heck-of-a storm fast-descending up ahead, with lightning already striking.

We reasoned, juggled worst case scenarios, percentage chances, and considered philosophical issues for the spare moments of opportunity likely remaining to make a decision; it came down to this:  was there anything (or one) worth turning back for—not really; we were “do or die” ready to stay the forward course, in faith.

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Winter of Discontent

Sad melodrama

Plays to disappointed land

Winter sans ‘jolly’

As frost patterns windowpanes

Peace, unity are lagging


Healing will require

Heaven’s army, top-grade troops

Rage, doubt, fear mooch faith

Once generous, unshaken

Sharp precipice imagined


Junk-mail media

Spews scary information

Educates with slants

Winter’s breath-held discontent

Worthy of literature


Disconsolate hearts

Peer through freezing rains’ dim veil

Encroaching snow clouds

Hem in mind’s isolation…

Soul dreams purple hyacinths

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Of Hero and King


Mesmerizing daydreams, old

Hero bounds to rescue

Aspect of escape

Faith affirms Christ’s

Soon return

©Avia Morrow, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Seox poetry form:  6 lines unrhymed; syllable count ~ 3/7/6/5/4/3