Eyes Connecting

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Eyes connecting through the air,

Like wind connects to leaves.

The mask enables us to share,

A stare of which we’re pleased.

I gaze into your gentle eyes,

And know just where you’ve been.

Your difficulties multiplied,

Yet peace is still therein.

Captivating is the word,

I’ve never seen the like.

Navigating through the herd,

When train peak times do strike.

At times our eyes do disconnect,

Embarrassed by the gaze.

But then an interesting effect,

Combines optical rays.

Your stop arrives and you alight,

You smile through those sweet eyes.

The day my phone had not my sight,

My eyes gained a great prize.

By Elicia Fyle

Poetic Genetics

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Genetics is a growing field,
The knowledge of our genes.
Discovering our DNA,
And what the findings mean.

How one gene correllates to what,
Our eye colour will be,
How the next gene will set the scene,
For our ethnicity.

It’s now a well-known fact to say,
That gene faulties occur.
These gene variants have been linked,
To various cancers.

Breast cancer’s often classified,
By BRCA mutations.
The BRCA gene is different to,
Healthy comparisons.

The neuroblastoma cancer,
Affects children, though rare,
The MYCN gene is amplified
This knowledge steers healthcare.

By understanding pathogenic
Gene variations,
We can direct many patients,
To effective treatments.

Genetics is a thriving field,
There’s so much more to learn.
This knowledge leads to great healthcare,
And new treatments are earned.

By Elicia Fyle

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Inexplicable Joy

A joy that’s inexplicable,
That gladly overwhelms.
Like eating a glorious meal,
Within a peaceful realm.

It’s accepting the truthful fact,
That tomorrow’s unknown.
By trusting God who never lacks,
You relax on your throne.

You see someone who clearly rose,
From the wrong side of bed.
Instead of becoming a foe,
You share a smile instead.

Joy when you see a newborn smile,
It’s magic and glory.
Joy when you see your Grandma dial,
To share her life stories.

You choose to turn the other cheek,
When someone insults you.
Instead you pray for them to seek,
A joy you know is true.

Like Jesus at the Last Supper,
He knew His time was near.
Despite this His joy was proper,
He gave thanks, ate with cheer.

Though we do have our ups and downs,
I challenge you today.
Choose to have joy, put on your crowns,
You’re vital like sun rays.

By Elicia Fyle

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I Will Choose You

When struggles come into my life,
When difficulties brew.
I will take heart, I will have peace,
Dear Lord I will choose you.

To live with you in poverty,
Or without you in wealth.
Dear Lord, I’d be a poor woman,
And trust you’ll give me health.

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego,
All three chose you, Dear Lord.
Therefore the fire could not burn,
Your grace was their reward.

Oh God, your presence overwhelms!
Oh Lord, I am in awe!
Through rattling and raging storms,
You’re with me evermore.

Father you have the final say,
You’re just, and you are wise.
Our perfect Saviour Jesus died,
But indeed, He did rise.

In times of harvest, growth, and crops,
In times of driest grounds.
I thank you for your presence Lord,
Acknowledge you’re around.

When things are great and when they’re not,
I know just what to do.
I’ll put you first above all things,
Dear Lord, I will choose you.

Elicia Fyle

Ancient Streets

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A fictional love poem. I hope you enjoy reading.

Ancient streets, modern beats.

His dance was timid, two left feet.

His silent confidence shone through,

My interest in him grew.

Naturally, I could see,

Him filled with glee, his moves carefree.

I reminisced on how we met,

Strangest encounter yet.

It was three years ago or so,

The morning dragged, and I was slow.

I realised I overslept,

Out of my bed I leapt.

The time was eight and I was late.

I grabbed my coat, ran out the gate.

I rushed along the ancient street,

And fell over my feet.

Luckily, I was free,

From any major injury.

My hands were bruised, my spirit down,

I hear a gentle sound.

A voice so deep, yet calm and sweet.

He stood tall on the ancient street.

He offered help for me to stand,

He kindly gave a hand.

From that point on, we’d often talk,

On my commute, we’d often walk.

I didn’t realise it then,

That we’d be more than friends.

Back to the street party story,

The dancing ends, he sits by me.

We gaze into each other’s eyes.

My stomach, butterflies.

From that point on, everything changed,

Our lives completely rearranged.

We faced a new reality,

The rest is history.

By Elicia Fyle