I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps;
I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked.
He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice,
he began to explain and his eyes became moist.
“My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me;
for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see.
In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior,
an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier.
I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave,
and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave.
He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold;
please remember him son, as you grow old.
The value of his service, I must explain,
if not remembered, will be lost in vain.
As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him;
and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.”
I listened in awe as my father spoke,
it seemed as if his heart were broke.
I suddenly remembered when he went to war,
and when he returned I thought nothing more.
I never asked why he walked with a limp,
and I didn’t care about why he was sick.
I was too busy enjoying the life that I had,
to realize that I had it because of dad.
I finally understood what my dad was about,
and it hurt so bad I cried out loud.
He sacrificed so much so I could be free,
and his battle scars were suffered for me.
It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day;
thank God I finally understood what he had to say.
I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest,
and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest.
That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret;
and I pledged that day to never again forget.
I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior;
I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier.
Copyright © Ed Coet | Year Posted 2007
God Gave You a Second Chance
Not ready to leave this world with unfinished business determining the souls color; you’re on borrowed time! Prayers to heaven and words spoken from the heart brought perspective to what time remained. Fear and regret knowing this may be the end brought us closer than before. Always by your side loving, giving freely would now perhaps help spare your life adding color to your heart and soul.
The soul colored with Hope, Faith, and Love, the greatest being Love! I wonder have you given God what was expected for a second chance at life to color your heart and soul. Color determines the hearts purity and the soul’s condition.
Souls are empty without love in the purest form; if you do not receive and give without fear, shame, or doubt! From the outside looking in many colors of love surround your soul. I pray the love I give you understand the colors surrounding my heart and soul.
Love was holding you when death looked you in the face and love put death on hold! God and I give you Love. How do you face life and death now, with a heart and soul of vivid colors nourished by our love? God blessed us and we know what matters most. You now live your bucket list, God’s too.
Your list will end, mine too. Sharing with a loved one brings special meaning, understanding, and allows comfort taking away fear, pain, and panic. With unconditional love all’s shared. Colors of the soul glow, angels gather, and God gently lifts one unto himself. The guardian angels exit; slowly colors fade, a feeling passes the one left behind as the end has come. I imagine the colors of love in the heart and soul.
Copyright © Debbie Knapp | Year Posted 2011
On the day the Lord calls me home I will not be
afraid as I know He loves us one and all and to this
earth we are only on loan
We have spent all our lives here with family and
friends and so we leave this earth to go home to be
with our Lord and our family and friends who have
gone home to Heaven before us
And so our lives go full circle as the Lord sent us
down from Heaven to accomplish the things He wants
us to do here on earth and as we complete this we will
be called back home to heaven to live forevermore
I am not afraid as I patiently wait for my call to
enter the Kingdom Of Heaven where I will wait for my
family and friends to come home and be with our Lord
Poems Of Inspiration (OLD) Contest
7th Place Winner
Copyright © Carol Sunshine Brown | Year Posted 2010
Grief is not something we “get through”…
you “get through” a bad day
Grief is not something we “get over”,
“you ”get over” a cold”
Grief is not something we “move on from”
you “move on from” a bad relationship”
But Grief is… a companion we “move forward with”,
learning from and growing, with each agonizing step.
Grief is… a heart-wrenching process, not bound by time,
But sets us on a “lifelong journey” of finding truth and meaning…
Grief is not a crutch we hold onto for pity
It is not a lack in character
It is not a weakness that needs to be strengthened
Or a problem that needs fixing
It is not an enemy to be slain
Or like a wild animal, to be caged
Grief is… “A METAMORPHOSIS OF HUMAN LIFE”
YES! that needs “time”… “A LIFETIME”
Grief is… an acknowledgement of true love shared
and true love lost
Grief is… a love we hold so deep within our souls
That our tears fall to caress the pain…
“God given tears”, full of purpose and meaning
For each one carries with it a piece of our heart
grief hugs us and holds us close
to a great love we can no longer touch…
grief is… our friend for without it
our lives would have been a lie.
Grief is…purely and simply a journey of love
It is a friend, to those of us who mourn
A friend who sees what we need and allows us to be us
Grief is a release of unimaginable pain…
a release of a great indescribable loss…
Grief is… the bridge that crosses repentant oceans,
spans desolate canyons, and fear filled mountain tops.
that we may cross over this tragedy to a renewed heart
by means of the love we shared and continue to share
through the love of our Almighty God
A pain we can use, to broaden our hearts
and the hearts of all those around us
it is… a road we must travel to gain wisdom.
A level of wisdom you will never achieve by playing strong.
For only when we sink to the bottomless pit of grief
Will we be awakened by the light of truth.
Do not judge it… for it contains Gods secrets
Secrets you can only hear by listening
through the blare of the pain.
It is a sacred contract to be in awe of and inspired by
To learn from and grow from
To gain compassion and understanding from
It is a journey that holds a sacred contract
That will be signed by each and every one of us
Who has the strength… and the courage…
to love with all your heart and all your soul.
It is not a journey I would wish on anyone
But now that I am here I will walk it with honor
And purpose, with my head held high and my feet in stride
For at the end of this road there you’ll be,
waiting to take me home.
Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo | Year Posted 2013
I have found myself at the threshold of death on several occasions. Each time I managed to
look it in the eye, doff my hat and say, “I’ll catch you up the trail.” This is not to say that I
am some special breed of hombre that casually defies death, for there have been many who
have gone the way before me and managed the confrontation in heroic decorum.
Nevertheless, death is not some evil state of being that only the brilliant or daring may defy;
nor is it a release from the severity of life. If anything, death is the threshold of eternity. Life
provides all known qualities, conditions, trials and tribulations that we encounter throughout
the fruition of our purpose.
Oh, death is not the enemy, for life provides our foes,
The ills, disease and suffering… the countless other woes;
For this is as it was ordained since Earth was yet to be,
When life evolved on other planes, the eye will never see.
We all embrace our time and grow in body, mind and soul.
We foster wisdom, strength and faith, fulfilling every role.
Prepared or not, the time will come, our form will waste away,
While life goes on, as is ordained by He who plans the way.
No, death is not the enemy, an end that one should fear.
It’s but a threshold for the soul to doff its mortal gear,
While life transcends its bond with Man to dwell forevermore
With He, whose force conceived all life and is its very core.
Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009
Say not to me,
that it will not matter a hundred years from now,
that I was here.
For surely I have touched one life in a positive way,
perhaps in daily prayer
I've called your name one day.
Having no profound accomplishments or delusions of fame,
and leaving no progeny
to perpetuate my name,
still, it will matter that I was here.
For I have quietly endeavored to sow, and I have watered.
I love and am loved--should one desire more?
Life is good and hopefully God is pleased.
The tracks I'll leave, it's true,
will not be so ingrained as to stand harsh winds of time
and they shall fade as the evening sun,
leaving somewhere, only a name and date chiseled in granite.
Perhaps, if only in thought,
one pausing o'er me should question, who was this man?
Let God simply whisper, that I am His.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2008
The warrior lays her weary head,
With heavy heart she cannot bear,
Burning tears stream down her face,
As whispered memories touch the ear.
Her armour tarnished by remorse,
Her battle-cry a wimpered row,
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude,
Will never know forgiveness now.
The song began two score ago,
When two came knocking at her door,
In need of refuge from the world,
Of that, and love, and little more.
Forced to fight for every smile,
Her only solace found in song,
She longed for love to rescue her,
And plant her where she could belong.
Jealous tongues are seldom kind,
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love,
The caged canary only sings,
When coaxed to praise from up above.
For the steely spine that now I own,
Forever shall I grateful be,
A gift from her, and from her own.
Courage mounted inwardly.
I'll not forget how I have loved thee,
And youthful memories I will prize,
Til on the shore of His forgiveness,
Whereto now, we both shall rise.
Copyright © Yvonne Evanoff | Year Posted 2011
Note:***This poem is meant to be read from the bottom to the top, left to right
and you remain—
For the World has gone from me and fled
The stairway of my mind shall never end
I accept the fate with the grinning dead
Hello again demons, hello friends
Alas! I fall and I am done
Tell me where have you fled, my love, my friend?
For a moment I gaze upon the sun
Here I am on earth again
1 Stair Remains
Why can’t I be free?
Tell me, why aren’t they looking at thee?
Why are they looking at me?
2 Stairs Remain
The garments of comfort I long to wear
Knowing in my heart that I’ll never win
I skip that grimy third stair
Like most of my life has been
3 Stairs Remain
Though my infected feet leave bloodstains
I can’t release even a single tear
The poisons encompass my river of veins
I step on thorns of wrath and fear
Enshrouded with pain!
4 Stairs Remain
Oh, how am I to survive?
Relieve me from this ever-fixed sadness
Why can’t you just be alive?
Cease this madness!
5 Stairs Remain
As you breathe your very last breath
The devilish fiends laugh at me
They are blaming me for your death
The deaths of the masses are calling me
6 Stairs Remain
The carcasses you feed upon are glaring
Oh! vulturous world so full of greed
When everyone is staring
God, redeem me!
I just can’t succeed
7 Stairs Remain
Of other fiendish sins
And I feel the shivers
Drowned by the turbulent wind
My stale breath quivers
8 Stairs Remain
Though we all aren’t free
They laugh below in the hole where I fell
The demons are haunting, taunting me
Alone I wander blindly out of hell
9 Stairs Remain
And my will is close to gone…
The stairway continues on
Forever hungry, forever stale
I toil through death’s dark vale
10 Stairs Remain
Why can’t we be free?
My resistance is nearly gone
The wretches are watching, stalking me
I’m too exhausted to move on
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2011
I come to you on bended knees
Knowing you will hear my pleas
By your side is where I long to be
Oh, God,be mercilful to me
Your love I know will forever last
As you free me from my past
In your debt I'll always be
Oh, God, be merciful to me
Lord, I look up with pleading eyes
Toward Heaven, beyond the skies
Your face soon I hope to see
Oh, God, be merciful to me
Now my death, I know is nigh
Take me Lord, with you on high
There, with loved ones I will be
God has been merciful to me
Copyright © Vernette Hutcherson | Year Posted 2007
I wept upon the news deployed
For now within, exists a void
My heart has stopped, it’s turned about
For life with love is now without
Now cast away, the physical form
I await the fate, to be reborn
To one day greet you there, again
The Gates of Heaven then let us in
Hand in hand, we move ahead
As souls permit, though bodies’ dead
A smile to you I then will give
For past our deaths, I know we’ll live
Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2008
Big crocodiles lips
Wide hipopotomus hips....
From her paws blood drips
Copyright © Robb A. Kopp | Year Posted 2010
A Poem Please Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
in love with you forever
sorrow can heal wounds
through sickness and health
I grew that day…
I knew that day…
I had high hopes of a well spent future with him. Dreams of us sailing into the sunset and sharing sweet kisses underneath the constellations. They were our constellations. But that day…
-I just knew.
Working so hard was indeed a burden he bore and giving of himself was tiring him out even more than usual. Catching his breath was not easy. I saw it in his eyes that night. The same look he gave me when his sister had passed last year. A trip to the doctor confirmed it. Sarcoidosis. What? I have never heard of this disease before. An auto-immune inflammatory disease that affects multiple organs of the body. His immune system had been overreacting and his organs are slowly shutting down. His skin had been tightening and his joints had been sore.
There he was…staring out the window thinking about all the things he would miss as a daddy. There I was…staring at him thinking about all the things I would miss about…nothing but…him. My first love. My high school sweetheart. Twenty years is never long enough to spread our wings as committed lovers. “Our little girl is only ten”, I thought. How are we to explain this to her when she cannot see the damage physically? No surgeries to fix this, and no treatments to prevent it from getting worse. The love of my life was going to slowly die right before my eyes.
Months had flown and we had many days of struggle and tears, although we did create many exceptional memories to add to our photo book. It took some time to accept this but I think I tried the best I could. Many good days had passed but one chilly Saturday afternoon in October we held hands gathered around my dear Nicholas. He gave his last kiss to his Ella on her upper right cheek. I saw him take his last breath and he was gone…
-I just knew.
Years had passed, seasons had changed, and our little girl was going to be married in fifteen minutes. Oh, how she missed her daddy walking her down the aisle. She chose me to walk her down the aisle instead and of course, I was honored. The music started playing and our families stood up and Ella looked at me with a twinkled tear in her eye and said, “mom, daddy’s here, I can feel him giving me a kiss on my upper right cheek.” She had a beautiful beauty mark on her upper right cheek and her daddy used to kiss it every night before bed and whisper, "daddy loves you..." We looked at each other and we both knew…
-we just knew.
love of my life gone
married with daddy’s blessing
sacred beauty mark
Date Written: April 29, 2016
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016
Before my soul reach's the sky.
On earth, i would climb beyond to the peak of success.
Reaching beyond the reach of my physical stretch.
Before my soul reaches the sky,victory will win the look of my face and place in my hand the torch of accomplishment.The streets i walked on will memorize my foot steps in gold.
Warm memories, left in the time of cold.
Before my soul reaches the sky,my desires and dreams fulfilled will unleash from a ruby chess,beams of contentment.
Tokens of joy left behind to be spent in memories.
In the golden places of their heart they will remember me.
Before my soul reaches the sky,i will solve the mysteries of life,but after all one mystery unsolved.
That i will solve when my soul reaches the sky.
Copyright © Elliott Bowe THe DrUnKeN POeT | Year Posted 2012
Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013
I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over
Taught me to fight back
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over
He gave me my stubbornness
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over
How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over
Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on
I may stumble I may fall
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over
Sabrina Niday Hansel
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
A Prayer for my Wife
Now I’ll tell you all the details if I can keep from sheddin’ a tear
Last night when it got late and really quiet around here
I got down on my knees, crossed my heart and began to pray
And in the darkness between me and God, here’s what I had to say
I love her so much Lord and I just don’t know what I’d do
I’m afraid that she won’t make it, that’s why I’m coming to you
Here with my heart open, at your mercy down on my knees
I’m begging’ you with every heartbeat, Oh Lord hear my pleas
I don’t know what your plans are or what you have in store
And I know I don’t deserve her and that she deserves much more
And don’t misunderstand Lord, I don’t assume any obligation
For your bounty in our life has exceeded all our expectations
But please allow her to live and me to be a part of that life
And I swear I’ll make this beautiful woman proud to be my wife
And if it’s not in your plans Lord then I pray that you take me instead
Cause’ I can’t live without my love, I’d be better off dead
And no excuses for my past Lord, but I’ll do better than I’ve done
I ask you only this, my lord, in the name of your Son.
I wiped my tears as I said my amen’s and prepared myself to stand
Stepped up next to your bed and began to caress your pretty hand
I stared off into space as all the memories came flooding in
Reliving each and every moment, over and over again
And as the first rays of sunshine, streamed in past the curtain
I felt an overwhelming peace calm my mind and ease the hurtin’
I felt compelled to kiss you so I pressed my lips to your face
And it seemed the room was filled in the beauty of God’s living grace
And you slowly opened your eyes and smiled for me to see
And I knew the Lord my God had given my sweet wife back to me
Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2010
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013
Words would fail me if I might assay
To articulate the courage of this man.
The numerous facets of his dossier
Are subject for song in a distant land.
Awakened in youth from serene dreams
By the melodious blast of Israel’s horn.
Tall standing received earth’s esteems,
Accepting God’s charge wherefore he was born.
His marble image cleaves the bluest sky,
And his halo is now a crown about his brow.
His peace of mind earth can no longer deny,
For he has now fulfilled his earthly vow.
It can only suppose with the midnight of the mind,
What may be reason’s welcome morning star.
One day he may return even more divine,
With a holier task from God who reigns from afar.
There’s no thunder heard from Sinai’s height,
And we see no parting waves at Jordan’s bank.
We have followed no truer soldier in our darkest night,
And now are marching on bravely in file and rank.
Rolling on in faith toward the welcome dawn,
The good fight won he’s earned the honor of Moses.
Now trekking the soul’s desert to the divine throne,
He follows God’s light up the street of yellow roses.
Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2011
The sun rose bright red not a dark cloud in sight
Few whispy cotton clouds spread around blue sky
Redtail Hawk in sky left nest for morning flight
On those cold air currents he did swiftly fly
Door was opened by east north easterly wind
Letting out illness, death, want_then in comes health
The sun set covered in dense clouds_cold its shroud
Will it rise in morn purple horizon proud
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2011
God touched another hand
as last breath slipped away.
Cradled a loved one’s head
as hearts began to pray.
God whispered I love you
while angels near him stood.
Raised his soul to heaven
cause He promised He would.
God granted his soul peace
from life of constant pain.
Freed body from struggles
and further family strain.
God allowed him to love
to know all life’s pleasure.
But God loves him more than
one can ever measure.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2011
Inspired by Frederic Parker's Without Lament - POTD 18 October 2015
Kim Patrice Nunez
19 October 2015
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
A shaman prays, the Spirit hears
While a Seventh Calvary regiment waits
Unarmed, a tribe endures a Union's hate
Their animosities, and their fears
As the blue coats begin to circle...
Their wrath begins to circle.
That shaman saw but a single Spirit
That was split between different beliefs
He could accept the white Spirit Chief
But the white men would not hear it
They would not blend their God
With the red heathen God.
Anger explodes behind powdered shot
Spraying death from muzzled shame
Cruelly winning their ill gotten fame
Painted heroes claim a tainted spot
History claims the Ghost Dance...
As death claims the last dance.
A Dakota creek runs darkly red
Forever silencing the Ghost Dance
A chanting shaman dies in his trance
One hundred fifty Sioux lay dead
Now, only blue coats remain...
Only the blue remain.
A creek ran red with Union shame
When a shaman called the Spirit Great
And that Spirit did not hesitate
He fell on Wounded Knee and came
To take His people home...
His people swiftly home.
Timothy I. Brumley
Copyright © Timothy Brumley | Year Posted 2011
By M. Taha Effendi
Amidst the gloom of night's dark shroud,
lurks Death in far corners of the shade.
To vanquish my fears to God I bowed,
And death shall find me... unafraid.
Amidst this vale of tears and pain,
my heart in life's robbed solace bled.
God gave me strength to stand again,
I found peace in His words I read.
In pleasures and crime my life is spent,
with sins the wretched soul is weighed.
But God's love taught me to repent,
He pursued me everytime I strayed.
It matters not how dark the past,
how much the evil takes its toll.
Darkness thrives but never shall last,
The Savior redeems the conquered soul.
(Inspired by "Invictus" by William Ernest
Copyright © Mohammad Taha Effendi | Year Posted 2010
Pampas Grass' tassles
Shooting upward fresh new
Beauty filled short life
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
There is a place inside my head
Where thoughts of other worlds will tread
When I awaken from a dream
Standing alongside a purple stream
With a lime green cast upon the skies
And a twinkling glimmer in my eyes
Moons and stars that look so queer
And a rushing sound within my ears
I wonder if I should be afraid
To be in a place quite so strange
Roots of trees lying all around
Whilst comes a rumbling from the ground
There beyond the shivering leaves
Many eyes staring back at me
Out of the shroud of thickened mist
On my hand is placed a gentle kiss
The nerves of steel begin to fray
With a restless feeling akin to dismay
As a darkening shadow draws so near
And yet still. I feel no fear.
Suddenly aware of fields of green
The most beautiful place I've ever seen
A carpet of turquoise flows through the hills
Mine greedy eyes can't get their fill
With windows wide open to a soothing breeze
Finding it's way through the forest of trees
Leaving resonating echoes loud as a train
As I felt a tremble inside my brain
I hear whispers there upon my ear
And yet still. I feel no fear
The origin of such a beautiful song
Grabbing my hand and pulling me along
Oh it's the One who gave me life
Father dearest with all your might
Giving me the strength to let you go
And become a part of the superlative show
With a gentle hand once again to dry my eyes
While I watch you capture such a glorious prize
Deep down I can feel the time is near
And yet still. I feel no fear
Scattered pieces of a great full life
Flash before mine deep inside
A heart string is plucked to the tune of love
Played by an angel sent from way up above
While brilliant rays of light abound
There I see you safe and sound
Traveling back alone from where I came
Crying buckets of tears like pouring rain
Recalling the soft whisper you had to say
"Be happy my child. We'll meet again one day."
Feeling a presence always so near
And yet still. I feel no fear
Copyright © Scarlett Sepulvado Anderson | Year Posted 2010
My favorite of songs is The Old Rugged Cross.
The most tragic of days was the worlds’ greatest loss.
For sinners that day were all given their chance.
His Father in heaven could not even bear to look not even one glance.
Forgive them He prayed as His life’s blood ran down to the ground.
Can you picture Him there wearing that thorny old crown?
On that hill so far away, sad but precious memories were made.
Born of a virgin mother in the tomb He was laid.
Death could not hold Him, death would not last.
Three days in that tomb, so long ago, death too it would pass.
He arose and was seen by many it was said.
Our Savior arose from the grave and no longer was dead.
As He gave His final words to His apostles and friends.
He ascended to the clouds but they knew they would see Him again.
He made us a promise He would rule once again.
I feel that day is coming we’re reaching the end.
The prophecies that abound.
With each new day they seem to be coming unwound.
Are you ready my friend for the Millennium Reign?
Are have you sunk to wearing the mark worn by Cain?
Sacrifices my friend we all have to do.
Just look at Jesus and the sacrifice He made, was made just for you .
So on that hill so far away I kneel at the thought.
With His precious blood my cleansing was bought.
And what have we learned, or did He die just for nought?
I look to Jesus and His love I have sought.
He must come first in all that we do.
And when the day comes you’ll see I speak true.
Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2007
A strange sight upon a lonely road.
A dream ripped in half.
Looking closer, I wonder what was the travail.
An old price tag attached, making me wonder at what price it was sold.
Along the edges, tattered and torn, it gave forth an evil laugh.
As if some sly devil concocted a way to turn someone pale.
Onward I traveled, with pack upon my back.
To the left and right of the road were littered with more broken dreams.
So many that one could not keep track.
Some having been blown into the parallel stream.
So, I checked the pack upon my back.
And, yep all my dreams were there in a stack.
Cold winds howl, trying to rip my back pack to shreds.
Freezing were the winds, but forward I march.
Never losing sight of my dreams in spite of many dreads.
They all hold up strong even though many times I'm in a lurch.
Suddenly I see people returning to the road.
Going back and picking up their dreams.
Dusting them off and restoring them to their pack.
Each and every one said to me, you are quite bold.
To go forth and not let the cold winds of fate not destroy your knack.
To face life as it comes and not give up even if offered gold.
Good, bad fortune, are likewise of no importance.
Put a failed dream back in your pack and maybe a new day will appear.
Where you can unpack that dream and give it another go.
But, for today, march forward, today's failure might tomorrow's dance.
You gave it your best, and win or lose, that game has ended with a spear.
Win or lose, that game is done so pack it's knowledge away in your pack and grow.
Suddenly down the road a new vista appears and a brand new game.
Left high and dry or victorious are the two possible ends of any venture.
But in truth, knowledge is all you will have, win or lose.
For tomorrows game is just around the bend, all the same.
Win or lose, the game of life only ends for the moment within sight of the new adventure.
So, to quit and call it the end, only makes you look like a goose.
Copyright © James Ray Morris | Year Posted 2010
What golden fevers disease drives the madman’s insanity,
A toxic yellow shines metal, that glitter beneath the polar Aurora,
Of greed’s horded treasure of the Klondike’s curse!
By sheer brawn's heaving and hoe, did these fortune hunters so come,
Blinded fools of riches promised folly, nay to earn a king’s ransom by the
Silver pan, but instead gaining nothing except a dead man’s empty hand!
In a freezing bay of burgs of hard ice, did over loaded wooden vessels deliver
Men and machines, ready to concur this barren frozen wasteland!
Crushing waves and blizzard hurricanes, thrust against these broken hauls
Of endurance's challenged, hopes evoked unto shattered lives, leaving nothing
Behind except floating pieces of debris, and the bodies of the dead!
In safety’s sheltering harbor, the mourning mariners toss tokens of memory,
Unto their fallen comrades, as they remove their hats in respective prays honor!
Let still the vessels kept on coming, filled to the very brim with its cargo of
Humanity, those whom sought for easy riches, drove them into this Godless
Country of ice and snow!
But looking upwards unto hell's keep, these city green horns knew that the
Devil would take most of them, by the rising of the next morning’s dawning light,
On the twisted grids of freezing icy steps!
Up the steep slopes of futility’s mountains, did the desperate and downtrodden
Climb, bitten and gnarled by the frost demons of this untamed land of the forbidden,
Clinging to the dream of the yellow shine beyond!
Shovels to the grave, wooden crosses without names, all for a nuggets finite stone,
Off set by the unbalanced weight scale of life vs death struggle, on this sliding ice curve
Cutting ice pikes, and long ropes of life lines, heave at the heavy sleds of provisions,
As these sufferage's want a bees, drag their empty pockets of dreams illusions along,
These trails of schemes delusions, in this blizzard storm of mirages!
Bold is the hearts of the young and restless sprites of youth,
But in this frozen tundra of death, it is the roughed, tough individual
Whom will strike it rich with endurance's pioneering soul, to over
Come these challenges of nature’s raw awesome force of
In the future nature shall bare the scares of this gold rush fever,
The land will rise dragging the bodies of ships alpine high,
Air bounding them within the trees tops, and the graves of the fallen
Will be swallowed whole by the mighty Ocean itself,
But legends never die, yet their stories are retold amongst the fires
What golden fevers disease drives the madman’s insanity,
A toxic yellow shines metal, that glitter beneath the polar Aurora,
Of greed’s horded treasure of the Klondike’s curse!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Dedicated to my Poet Destroyer
Just for the challenage!
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
I realize limitation
Is an illusion.
My destiny is without
Beyond death. Beyond the periphery
Cosmic chaos is cooking...
In infinite situations
Attuned yet unaware,
A universe of oppositions
Frequency and energy
A spiraling dichotomy.
an ascending epiphany.
CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK, (pos. or neg.) CRITIQUES, OR ANY SUGGESTIONS
I also enjoy simple lists of words, descriptors of an abstract reaction
describe the feelings or ideas my poem invoked or left in feeling or thought.
Even on word. is better than none. Thank you
Copyright © Joel Thornton | Year Posted 2014
Lord what I'd give to go back in time.
Meet historical legends Wyatt Earp,
Or Jessie James, let them leap off
The written page, and live again.
Rough riders, shooting the colt 45,
Learning swiftness by the draw.
Badges brethren, gather up,
The madman’s posse,
Gun powders equalizers,
In there bloody hands.
Wanted men, flee to,
Horse thieves, and
Trying to evade the long,
Arm of the law.
Fate decides whom lives,
It makes no difference,
Innocent or guilty.
After all it is life’s truest rule,
An eye for an eye, blood shed,
To give the devil his vengeance,
Behold survival of fittest,
Heavens gates, are made from,
The hangman's tree stands ready,
Hollow nooses swing in,
To bid found ado unto evil men.
Strong limbs bare heavy weight,
A scaled balance of ropes,
Blind lady liberty turns,
Her gaze away.
At histories hesitation towards,
Real justice's justification.
Hard men ride ahead,
Legends tin stars,
Amongst trail dust,
Behold the old west breath's,
Between books binding,
And words harsh black ink.
Hardened steel vs. freedoms,
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2013
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2012