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When Your Hands Are Empty #poemofhope #faithpoetry #spokenwordpoetry

There will be a season when you have done all you know to do and still, nothing. No answer at the door. No sudden change. No sign in the sky telling you that tomorrow will be kinder. Just you, your unanswered prayer, and the strange silence that makes you question whether God is still listening. He is. Do not mistake silence for absence. Some of God's deepest work happens without making a sound. Roots grow in darkness. Healing happens beneath skin. Morning begins long before the window knows there is light. And somewhere beyond what you can see, your life is being moved by hands you cannot follow. So do not abandon your faith because you cannot trace God's footsteps. You were never promised a clear view. You were given enough light for the next step. Take it. Even if your knees shake. Even if your heart has questions your mouth is afraid to ask. Take it. Faith is not a life without uncertainty. It is waking up with uncertainty beside you and refusing to let it choose your direc...
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The man and the Rose #lovepoem #poetry

At dawn the bees rise, gold-dusted and brave,
Wings humming promises the morning gave.
They cross wide fields with tireless devotion,
Reading the air like a sacred motion.

They do not pause for the loudest bloom,
Nor the flower that flaunts its heavy perfume.
They search with care, with patient sight,
For nectar that’s true, for sweetness that’s right.

From petal to petal they gently roam,
Borrowing gold to carry it home.
Through storms, through heat, through uncertain skies,
Their faith is honey, their hope never dies.

So too stands a man in a garden wide,
Where countless flowers bloom with pride.
Each one calling, “Choose me, see
I am beauty, I am destiny.”

Some shine bright but with shallow roots,
Some wear colors but hide their truths.
He learns, like bees, to look within,
Beyond soft petals, beyond the skin.

Then he sees her quiet, rare,
A rose that blooms with mindful care.
Not loud in scent, not proud in show,
But deep in strength, in steady glow.

Her thorns speak wisdom, her red speaks grace,
Time has etched truth upon her face.
She stands unmoved by fleeting eyes,
Rooted in earth, beneath vast skies.

The man chooses as the bees have taught:
With patience earned and lessons bought.
Not every flower is meant to be,
But the rose is love’s eternity.

And like the bees that return with gold,
He carries a treasure more precious to hold
A love well chosen, pure and true,
A rose unique, forever new. 🌹🐝


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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