Jennifer Grassman

Recording Artist + Author + Mommy


April 2014

Week 2 National Poetry Month: A Child, Good Friday, Easter Eggs, & Journey To The Center Of The Earth

OK, so technically, we’re in the third week of April. Bear with me here, because I’m running a tad behind (between pregnancy brain and mothering a toddler, this Momma-Bear is tired!), and anyway, you can’t rush art!  Here’s a collection of poems and lyrics for my second National Poetry Month installment, appropriately themed for Holy Week and Easter 🙂  Enjoy!

A child; the portrait of God,
Innocent, peaceful, and wise in simplicity.
A child; the portrait of how God intended mankind to be,
Before the fall, before death, before evil corrupted our hearts.
A child; the ideal of the Lord,
Joyful, content, trusting, imaginative, and wise in simplicity.

I love my Great Redeemer
Because He first loved me
I love the One who died
And rose to set me free.

My sin, my sin, my Savior took
And hung upon a tree,
Amazing love! How can it be
That Jesus died for me?

Upon the cross He showed great love
Yet sorrow at His death,
“Oh, why have you forsaken me,
My God?” was His last breath.

The earth then shook, the curtain tore,
The dead rose from the grave,
And to this day we marvel at
The Life who died to save.

His evident divinity
The soldier then expressed,
“This man was the Son of God,
Surely,” he confessed.

And then they put Him in the tomb
Good Friday, mind it well;
The day before the day before
That Heaven conquered Hell.

My sin, my sin, my Savior took
And hung upon a tree,
Amazing love! How can it be
That Jesus died for me?

Sweet bright eyes
Sweet bright smiles
Green grass, tiny feet;
See them run for,
See them search for,
Hidden treats to eat.

Hear the gasps
The gleeful squeals
Pink, violet, gold, and blue
“If you don’t find
Enough eggs, then
I’ll share mine with you.”

Now they’re sitting
Counting eggs from
Baskets made of straw
And every time
They open one
They gasp in joy-filled awe!

Lyrics by Jennifer Grassman for Orisonata

Come let us explore the chasms of the deep
Through the fiery dark; a journey to the center of the earth

My heart is fading fast (Down! Delve deeper!)
A search into the past my origins lie

Time presses on and presses back
Into the light, into the blackness
Dawn turns to dusk and fades away
Into the night, into our origins

Through the darkened veil
We see ourselves emerge
Not as angels bright, but monsters mutant, foolish and godless.

The sun is fading fast (Death! Delve deeper!)
Our fate lies in the past our origins lie!

And we fear that God lied to us
When He told us He was real

Time presses on and presses back
Into the light, into the blackness
Dawn turns to dusk and fades away
Into the night, into our origins.

All poems written by Jennifer Grassman, April, 2014.


Week 1 National Poetry Month: A Portrait of Midnight, The Window Fellow, Rainy Days & Writing

Well, I am a week late posting these, but better late than never, right?! Actually, now that I’ve entered the third trimester of pregnancy we had a few preterm labor scares earlier this month, and I honestly just wasn’t feeling poetic or bloggy.  Thankfully, the baby is safe, I am healthy (albeit dreadfully uncomfortable), and we’re crossing our fingers for a full term little girl in early July.

Originally, I was planning to blog five poems a week (including snippets from song lyrics and such) but a few of these poems took a little more TLC than I was anticipating, and I didn’t want to shortchange you.  Thankfully, they are better poems for it, so I hope you enjoy them:



Falling, falling down forever
Pale and chilly came the moonlight
Casting diamonds on the river
Breaking through dark shades of night.

High aloft in yonder oak tree
To a silent audience
Sings the Mockingbird, though lonely,
Sings he with such confidence.

Darkness steals the vibrant colors
From the trees and flowers bright
From the red barn; grey it’s looming
Like a tombstone in the night.

Rising from the sleepy river
From the hollows and the trees
Creeps a fog of pallid silver
Strangely moving ‘gainst the breeze.

Like a mystic spell of stardust
Dew drops gather on cold ground
Dull and stripped of all its color
Yet sparkling bright without a sound.



There he sits
Gazing out of the window
Into a world
Where he can never go
For he is small
And he is naïve
He is a house cat
Named Shadowfax.

He watches the lizards
He watches the birds
He watches the shadows
Creep across the lawn
All day he sits
On his windowsill perch
Content to observe
As he basks in the sun.



You’ll never find a cup of tea
Or pastry that’s to large for me
I love to think, and think, and write
On rainy days in grey-lorn light.

I love the sound of rain a-patting
On the roof and window splatting,
I love the rolls of thunder crashing
And the blaze of lightning flashing!

I love the fragrance of wet earth
As bathing sparrows splash with mirth
And cats watch from a distance, glumly
Wishing it were dry and sunny.


All poems written by Jennifer Grassman, April, 2014

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