Thursday, March 28, 2013

Night and Day

 The day is gorgeous in its own way. With the deep blue sky and the rolling hills of clouds. The smell of fall is in the air on this delightfully warm autumn day. The sun burns brightly and warms the air. I like the sun and moon alike. The moon is a pool of lilies, the stars are the petals of a dandelion. Someone made a wish and blew all the stars into the rich, silky sky. Some like moonlight and others like sunlight, but I like the sun and moon alike.
 Which do you prefer?

-Cedar Sunshine, or Moonbeam

Friday, March 22, 2013


Resolutions are like trees.
In one years time a resolution can live and die like leaves.
In the spring and summer the resolution (leaves) are green, fresh and active.
But by fall they start to fade.
Then they get brown with age and begin to fall.
Here the resolution dies.
But in spring there arises another resolution, but for what?
To die in the end?
Let our resolutions be like the evergreen!
All green, all year.
Fresh and new.
as always.

Hope you like it,

Friday, March 15, 2013


Never knowing what a day may bring,
Clouds may darken, birds may sing,
To this hope I cling:
Never an ache ne'er a sting is ever felt by a lone being.

He is there to chase away all fear,
Always near, ready to hear,
Glad tidings, have cheer,
He will steer us clear.

Thru the winter to the spring,
To the only grace I fling,
All my laughter all my tears,
He's the only one who brings,
Joy and sadness ore the years,
The Lord of Lords, the King of Kings.

God is the greatest inspiration.


Friday, March 8, 2013


Down a wooded lane strolled a lanky youth.
His laughing grey eyes were barely visible, for his masses of auburn curls poured down his forehead and brow.
With a vigorous shake of his head, Frazer, having freed his roving eyes, surveyed the Wintry woodland.
Tall, leafless trees looked down their noses at him.
Chiding squirrels ran up in dizzying circles up and up the solemn oaks.
Oh! Look!
One even dared to scurry up the ancient cedar!
The other squirrels stopped and stared in awe.
T'was not ANY squirrel, but the old grey one, Chief, as Frazer called him.
His eyes twinkled with merriment as he rounded a bend in the snowy road.
Soon though, his curls slunk back down his brow, blanketing his view of the wintry wood.
Just as the soft, steady falling snow blanketed that wooded lane.

Frazer actually means curly hair. :)


Thursday, March 7, 2013

Bravery: The Greater Part Of Stupidity

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there are not dumb people, because there are some seriously DUMB people out there.
I'm not here to discuss them, I just didn't want to confuse anyone.
I wanted to discuss the idealist, who endeavors to overcome a seemingly impossible task, or force. People that stand in the way of the idealist, or are acquainted with one, will call them crazy, or even STUPID. Those who do not share the idealist frame of mind, might be forced to leave their comfort zone to achieve a goal. They are not willing to make a stand for the greater good.
They ( those who call the idealist stupid) wouldn't do anything, regardless of the repercussions, that would take them out of their comfortable little lives.
They wouldn't succeed if they tried, because they do not have a belief like the idealist does. Some people are happy with this misery.
I am not.

Thank you Brea, for all your helpful support & comments! XD

- Cedar

Sunday, March 3, 2013

My Picture

It is indigo in the very center, and pales to a pearly baby blue around the edges.
Across the blue is  great masses of white and grey, scurrying along or just standing still, they are usually there.
This blue can suddenly be hidden by grey, or be dim or be scorching and bright.
The wide beautiful sky is my ever changing picture, God is constantly coming around, looking below, and leaving  a trail of dusty clouds. For we must know, that He always sees us.

The sky is my delight, I could spend hours simply staring at it! I love Gods creations.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

A World Without Words

On a bumpy car ride through the rain,
I look out at the world through tear stained panes.
The leafless trees stretch o'er the road,
Trying to grasp ahold of each other.
But to no avail.
Their hope is stale,
And they're rightfully bare.
Don't you even care,
To share,
The wondrous work of writing.

Without writing, the trees are bare and the wind is bitter.


Friday, March 1, 2013


   Pen and paper confuse me.
Their vastness is impossible to fathom.
 The meaning is right before my eyes, yet I don't see it.
I cannot read it.
   When droning voices read classic tales of literature,
A loud buzz fills my ears.
   When I am told to write I cannot,
My hand is stiff and my inkwell is dry.
   But when inspiration seizes hold of my mind,
My hand is ready and my inkwell is full.
   The cogwheels of my mind begin to turn,
Inventing new and better ideas.
   I cannot hear the outside noise,
above the whir of the ever-turning wheels.
 Away chugs my train of thought to foreign lands.
   Away to the sea,
and the sky,
   and space.
The great unknown of the wilderness is inviting,
   While the crowded cities scare me.
Dodging in between the rails,
   away chugs my train of thought.
Without a trace of remorse,
   and without a thought of return.

   The above poem describes me while I'm writing. While writing I do not care for anything else. In body, I am here at my desk, but in mind I am gone. Away to other worlds, I am on an adventure dear reader, and this is the biggest one of all!