Lydia Angeline Meier considers a poem like a snapshot. It’s “a moment in time that is taken as a negative and later developed – color added, focused, refocused and only then shared with others,” she reveals. “It is the art of words arranged into rhyme and rhythm that will come back to me later, reminding me that rainbow endings can come from negative moments.” 



I feel my frailty now,
Paper thin and full of pride.
I feel all of my faults and ready to hide.
I feel. I feel. I wait for the feelings to pass.
Then come new feelings dredging up the past.
Regrets for things seemingly beyond my grasp.
A deep desire to change beyond me.

The peace is gone.
The sense is gone.
The hope is gone.
The faith is gone.

We all live on balance disrupted.
Your life from the scales interrupted.
Everything has changed.
I find no gain, but it will come.
Wait for it still.
A life subtracted from the scales weighs heavy.
Distracted from the way to will steady.

Live purposefully now.
Add weight back in by choice.
Chose who you will not lose
Knit closer the bonds loose.
Notice more details before excused.
Inquire more deeply, muse.

April 2017


Tears in a Bottle

A shock and I shake.
I feel for the ground.
It is still there.
The earth is yet still.
It is not moved.
I want to cry.

But I cannot.
I have to focus.
I have to accept reality.
Yet, I cry within.

And I ask God if He is collecting these inner tears too.
I ask him what He plans on doing with them anyway.
I am glad that he collects tears. It comforts me.
Only important things are collected.
Yeah, it would be a shame to lose them.
The Tears.

I imagine that he might make a Sea out of them.
A sea that sparkled extra bright.
We could go boating together to catch the light and keep it inside.

Or maybe he could make a river that was always flowing to a different place
Until it had seen the world,
Met every living tribe and people,
Smelled every flower,
Discovered every kind of animal…
And we would flow right along with it.

Or special rain that at a flower’s touch turned to diamonds or pearls.
What will he do with his collection of tears?
Could it be like a clothing or shoe collection?
Newly designed with every season?
With special limited time colours and styles?

Maybe they could be not only beautiful, but also useful.
Manna, Medicine or a thirst quenching spring!
Fire extinguishing!
Then I could easily let more tears fall
As all would celebrate and cheer.

He collects the tears.
He collects them in his bottle.
They are important to him.
They are not lost.

February, 2017
Psalms 56:8
You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle.
Are they not in your book?


Iowa Sunset

Wind mills spin like dancers staged by the cherry blush of the hidden sun.
Clouds like cotton candy
Tempt of fairstyle fun.
Summer has come to Iowa,
And so have I.

Windmills dance in the apricot blush of the almost forgotten sun.
A deeper blue settles to the earth
As the yellow fades to grey.

The show is over folks,
Get on home to beds freshly made.
Cool cotton and windows open to the night breeze.
Summer has come to Iowa

And so have I.

Windmills lazy around in brown,
I shy to take a peek.
The moon is tardy in his approach.
Stars remember their place in the sky,
And so also I, in Iowa summer.

June 2013


Back in the City

Back in the city missing my hometown.
It’s kind of a pity as I’m looking around.
No one is so friendly in this busy crowd.
One little wave could slow us all down.

But I’m gonna wave at strangers just because I can.
I’m gonna love my neighbors, stop to shake a hand.
Gonna comment on the weather, stop to pet a dog.
Some say it’s better not to bother, but narcissism is a fog.

In the city
Some know better than to trust
In the city
Poor’s living next to upper crust
In the city
Needing more personal space?
Watch out! In the city
Friendly’s comin your way.

Friendly in the city
coming your way.
Friendly in the city
I just might stay
Friendly in the city
I got some extra time
To be friendly in the city
To donate an extra dime.



    • Thank you so much Doug and Audrey. If it hadn’t been for you I would have never had the conviction or courage to share any of my creative work. Even now I am hypercritical of myself share less than half of what I write, edit and re-edit, and hate it even after I share it. Then I remember you telling stories about recording your album and not wanting to stop editing. ? We are all still processing aren’t we? Even when it seems complete to others. Keep on growing. Keep on sharing. Keep on encouraging.

      • Yes, we are always in process! The hardest part sometimes is deciding it’s time to share with others…much easier to endlessly edit. Oh, the difficulty to be vulnerable!!! Thank YOU for sharing what you’ve done with us. You are so brave, and I know many folks are moved by what you’ve written. Big hug!!!

  1. Lydia, I still remember sitting with you at my kitchen table, pouring over your poems, deciding which ones you would like to share for our first creative community event. You poetry is beautiful, and it moves me. I’m so glad you are writing, even in the midst of everything you have to do as a mother of young children. Your words bring life and comfort.

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