Days pass into the weak, loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath Van Gogh’s brush, as he links.
Comet light passes twisting cypresses, a schizophrenic’s concussion.
On and on, the wind twirls the trees, and does not complain,
nor, does the cosmos cringe awaiting reciprocation.
Lightning bugs mimic the stars. Atoms sneer.
Those who spout love and friendship abandon him, sneering.
Their images dance beneath his lids, when he blinks.
Though denied a compass, his soul does not reciprocate.
Through pain, physical and mental, he still connects, links
with the life which absorbs and excludes him, not complaining.
Nights pass without his mistress, Sien. His mind is concussive.
His face trembles torn in the brass sounds of the storm’s concussions.
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker, all of them, sneer.
How unmerciful, this cycle, this God to whom he does not complain.
If lack of mercy is just, may he not know why? Time blinks.
Thinking causes pain. Only painting connects him, he links.
He accepts art and the pain, as gifts, choosing not to reciprocate.
Voices, the paint, the moon, the voices say, reciprocate.
He chases mice. The cheese plate falls with a loud concussion.
He rubs his gnarled hands across his lids. He maintains the link.
How? Why? But, the mice eating his cheese only sneer.
The sunflowers shimmer and wiggle in their vase, as he blinks.
Stumbling, he falls attempting to sit, the chair does not complain.
He had thought God clear as sunlight; yet, the paint complained.
He was not God; he could not capture the light. He must reciprocate.
After all, who was he, but a mere man, ashes to dust; life blinks.
Ah death, le grand mal, no minor concussion,
He must escape, join the celestial spin, and avoid their sneers.
Sick, yes, sick to death of not being understood, not linking.
The brushes call. He prostitutes himself. Oil spills, connecting, linking.
Theo, brother, never would he forgive. Many others would complain.
Ah, Gauguin, His dear friend, he would understand and not sneer.
If God was truly a loving God, surely, he thought; God will not reciprocate.
The mockers who did not live in Dante’s nine levels of hellish concussion,
they will call his actions cowardly. Merciless, they did not live between the blinks.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011
"THERE HE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND OUT"
God, can I hold your hand and follow you?
My child, it is I who will walk with you! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across earth. Your love and devotion are what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You ran to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles and tribulations. We could not speak, it was my light that kept you from going weak.
God, are you a dream of beauty? The holy book.
My preacher spoke of the afterlife, calling it paradise.
I remember now, I felt this company once before, this light.
Many times, I forsake the light and still you never left my door.
I felt it on the day I was born,
the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it once more?
Lord pleases clarify the day I fell down to my knees, accepted Jesus as my savior?
On that day, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my failures’.
Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road. This light never left you.
My sweet child did you not listen,
Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible.
My child, you were not searching for the right answers.
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray enough?
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself,
I always answered even when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your soul's disguises.
Lord, I have other questions to ask.
What should I expect out of my personal sins?
My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence--
How is it that I am in your promise land?
Getting right with me has brought you here!
One more question My Heavenly Father
Can I see My Daughter, Mothers, Sisters, family, and friends?
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
What goes up must come down.
No colors can define who you are.
You may own a cart or limousine.
We'll still reach the end when it is near.
I may be poor today and eat from trash.
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash.
The bed where you lie is soft and wide.
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp.
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able.
Our destiny isn't written in the stars.
We work for a living to thrive in this life.
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I.
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round.
Today you'll be on top,
I am watching from the ground.
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds.
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed.
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes.
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life.
*5th Place winner
Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014
Days pass into the weakest of loveless nights. The moon blinks.
The stars swirl beneath the colored brush of Van Gogh. He links.
Comets trail snowfields of light pass agonized cypresses, schizophrenic concussion.
On and on, the wind twirls the trees and does not complain,
nor, does the cosmos cringe awaiting reciprocation.
Lightening bugs mimic the starlight, atoms sneer.
Those who spout love and friendship abandon him sneering.
Their images dance beneath his half closed lids, when he blinks.
Though denied visual compass, his soul does not reciprocate.
Through pain, physical and mental, palpable pain, he still links,
with the life which has both absorbed and excluded him not complaining.
Night passes without his mistress, Sien. His mind writhes, eternal concussion.
His torn visage trembles with the brass sounds the storm's ranting concussions.
The butcher, the baker the candlestick maker, derides and sneers.
How unmerciful is this cycle, this God to whom he does not complain?
And, if indeed, lack of mercy is just, may he not know “Why?” Time blinks.
Just the act of thinking causes pain. Only painting connects him to the link.
He must accept both the pain and the art as gifts, choosing not to reciprocate.
Voices always the voices, the paint, the moon, the voices, reciprocate.
He chases the mice. The cheese, pewter plate and all, falls with concussion.
He rubs the backs of gnarled hands across his lids, maintaining the link.
“How? Why?" But, the mice eating his cheese grimace and sneer.
Inside the cottage sunflowers shimmer and wiggle in vases, as he blinks.
Stumbling, he falls in an attempt to sit, the insubstantial chair does not complain.
He had thought God clear, clear as sunlight, yet the damn paint Lord! complained.
He was Not God, and try as he would, the light escaped. He MUST reciprocate.
After all who was he, but a mere man, ashes to dust, life blinks.
“Ah death…le grand mal…no minor concussion,”
He must escape this mortal coil, join the celestial spin without their sneers.
Sick, he was sick, yes, sick to death of not being understood, no link.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
For God so loved this sinful world, He gave us all His son;
That we might live with Him one day, when life on Earth is done.
No greater love was ever known, no greater gift bestowed,
And for the love He sacrificed, no greater debt’s been owed.
The time was short for Jesus Christ, but what He gave mankind
To lift our hearts and save our souls has yet to be refined.
The grace and style in which He moved through politics and fools,
Has paved the way for paths we trod through worldly ways and rules.
His teachings spread throughout the land, His miracles renowned,
He only had to touch a life to show His love was sound.
Two thousand years have come and gone since Christ communed with man;
And with his dying saved us all, to serve God's ancient plan.
He rose from death, as He had said, and proved His word was true,
That life eternal waited those who choose to suffer through.
Salvation came that fateful day, the Bible tells us so;
And time has shown that through God’s love the weakest spirits grow.
Now, modern times are hard on us and cause us all to doubt,
For change is there at every turn, and Satan’s always out.
It’s now we need the love of God, for always, as before;
Just lift your heart and ask for it, and see what lays in store.
It’s through God’s love we handle change and how it makes us strong
In ways we deal with worldly things and sort the right from wrong.
For change is just another way the Lord sees fit to use
To make our days seem fresh and new with paths to take and choose.
It’s by our faith we live our lives and seek a brighter day,
And how we find the confidence when doubts get in the way.
But most of all it’s happiness that faith’s been known to give
When our misfortunes come to cloud these modern times we live.
We need not fear what God has wrought. We need not know His plan.
We only need to know He’s there, and love’s in store for man.
Just think the words you’d ask in prayer, and ere a sound be heard,
His perfect love will fill your heart before you’ve breathed a word.
No greater love was ever known, no greater gift bestowed,
And for the love He sacrificed, no greater debt’s been owed.
But God forgave our debt to Him, we live in grace today;
The greatest love you’ve ever known is just a breath away.
Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009
To hear the whippoorwills' sad urgent call
I was very glad when I was a lad
But now twilight nearing new season's fall
My Essence of truth my consciousness calls
My tears being not of my former years
For sake of humans I now turn my cares
As compassion of true identity
From sacred place calls from infinity
Within unlimited aspects' of me
A great white throne in the distance I see
Around sacred bend a familiar friend
Silhouette of me as my God I see
No more desirous of earth's vain glory
The mind's wilderness of exploratory
History recedes illusions of me
My ego thoughts I just had to be
Totality of Love I see as me
Enter into God's synchronicity
I now see my God as I now see me
As sacredness of the reality
As Sacredness calls a new season's fall
Recesses the former whippoorwills' call
As new life calls I now realize it all
New life is in the Sacred Season's Fall
Mystified as I liquefied I cry
As in spirit of love quite high I fly
Above consequences life's densities
As spiritual tears replace human fears
Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2010
written 25th Oct 2013
I don't know if human's will ever see
every soul born, is right where it's meant to be
For the rich to become the richest
there has to be a place for the poorest
The entire world is built up from the same level of dirt
each soul is born without knowledge to cause hurt
Humanity teaches us what a human's life is worth, by money and glory
I am to believe "all lives are priceless, every soul fit's to tell Earth's story
The luckiest to be born, is that of a poor man
he learn's the treasures, of "everything he can
Those born into all riches, have no true understanding of "richness
seeing us not as human's, but those living in poverty "as an illness
Love start's from the soul, and from there, it is taught to grow
the rich find another kind of love, one only brought with dough
Love, trust, compassion and grace, defining the difference in richest and wealth
t'is the beggar off the street, who climbs the toughest road to earn his wealth
He is the most blessed man, he is rewarded with the most valuable key
for his wealth, is humanly "uncountable, for only God know's the value of he...
Award winning this poem made it to the top 100 in 2015 enjoy and leave me a smile to know that you were here.
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
W-hen the fullness of time had come, Jesus was born behind an Inn in a cave-like stable.
I-n the Inn there was no room for the Son of God, no room for the Saviour of men.
S-tar was shining so bright above the stable for the shepherds to find their way to Him.
E-ven angels proclaimed His birth to those shepherds "Unto you is born this day."
M-anger is where Mary and Joseph first laid him. It was filled with hay.
E-very animal there must have known that their Creator had come that day.
N-o one knew the depth of love God had, to give His Son to dwell among men.
S-ame star guided three kings from the Orient, who studied the stars and heavens.
T-hese wise men from the East came saying "Where is He that is born King"
I-n their hands they brought him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrr.
L-ike these three wise men, wise men still seek him today!
L-ove is the reason that God sent His only Begotton Son into the world to save us.
S-eeking for you and me, yes God was seeking for us because we had left Him.
E-veryone, yes, all we like sheep have gone astray. Everyone to his own way.
E-ach one has to make his on decision to follow Him or not to follow Him.
K-ing, born to be a King. King of the ages. King of the past. King of the future.
H-eaven, He came from Heaven to earth to show us the right way.
I-niquity, the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
M-elody, He gives us a sweet melody, we sing many songs of praise to Him.
T-ree, A Christmas tree, the love that Jesus had for us, to die on a tree.
O-nly one life and how soon it passes. Only in life can we accept His Love.
D-eliverance, He came from Heaven to preach deliverance to the captives.
A-cknowlege Him and accept Him. Behold now is the accepted time.
Y-ou, Yes, this Christmas Love was for You. Will You accept this love?
For Brian Strands Christmas Love contest.
Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2009
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
Love was in the air when he laid eyes on her.
Childhood; elementary and even high school with her.
Walking towards her, he greeted her.
Anxiety spiraled as he hugged her.
Conversation grew deeper as he sat with her.
Wanting to get closer because he was falling for her.
Another woman called pausing the time he was having with her.
Knowing he had to answer; he stepped away and spoke to her.
She stated that something wasn't quite right with her.
She said that her stomach had been bothering her.
Now he's thinking back if he came inside her.
Thinking if she lied to him about her tubes being tied within her.
Does he blame himself for listening to her?
Knowing right from wrong and yet he can't blame her.
Does he blame the devil for allowing him to be intimate with her?
Is he not a human that makes mistakes just like her?
Begging God to make a way for him and her.
Asking God to forgive him for committing the sin with her.
God said, "relax my son, you were only dreaming of her."
Copyright © Pace INK-U-SCRIPT | Year Posted 2012
In the middle of the universe I stand
All alone on a quiet, desert night
Looking up at brilliant, desert stars
Shining along the Milky Way.
And in this universe, where I stand
I see the moon illuminating the sky
Constellations in their patterns
Hidden planets in their spheres.
And as I stand in this great universe
Contemplating the wonders of the night
I know that just as surely as I live
In my heart of hearts, I am not alone.
For I am seen by the One who created
This universe, in which I stand
Who made the heavens and the earth
He is the great I AM, who created me
In His great universe, where I stand.
Written on 2/3/2015
Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2015
As I start on a quest finding self,
I must look very deep in my soul.
Here I will not find books on a shelf,
That will help me get close to my goal.
Clear I see as a child I was free
Brought to church I was taught God to love.
Where I walk tranquil streams follow me,
Down a path that would lead to above.
Twas my goal never wander away,
For my heart and my soul lived for God.
I would fall on my knees where I’d pray,
Knowing he was my staff and my rod.
Then a storm raged one day at my door,
I was angry at life’s awful turn,
All my faith it just crashed to the floor,
Now my hate strongly started to burn.
Blaming God never came to my mind,
Just my doubt had spread turmoil in me,
Now this dark hole inside made me blind,
All this hate in me screamed set me free.
Welcomed back like the prodigal son,
Jesus kissed all my sorrows away,
Wiped the tears I had shed dried each one,
I am saved by his grace every day.
As I end now this quest finding self,
I’m at peace and my spirit is free.
All my sins just like dust on a shelf,
Free to fly with these wings God gave me.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
For Pendleton Arkwright’s Contest:
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Oh, do not tear your children from the breast,
let the unity of earth and sky transform;
the errors made by ruthless men.
Raise-up the lives of young ones, yet, unborn
to clarity of mind so they may transcend.
Each nation, creed or gender bears some blame,
Oh, do not tear our children from Thy breast.
Surely, our souls can be reclaimed?
Oh, do not toss your children from the nest
for we have not our peace with nature made,
not accepted life on land or sea,
as equal in your loving cavalcade,
until we do there is no fitting end.
With grace, we must accept we’re mere upstarts,
Oh, do not toss your children from the nest.
Surely, we can reclaim your heart?
Oh, do not bury your children in protest,
beneath the crusty skin of nightmares torn
discarded bits blood and bone
with all the rest of refuse over worn.
Relent, let us repent, let us ascend
for You are love and love is naught but kind.
Oh, do not bury your children in protest.
Surely, you can free our hearts and minds?
Oh, do not close your ears to our sweetness.
We’ll sing for You, our praise, our changed intent,
and to the stars our voices will arise,
with those of bird and whale and wolf's lament.
All of life on earth we will befriend,
for only through diversity does life thrive.
Oh, do not close your ears to our sweetness.
Surely, Creation minds our lives?
Oh, God please forgive our thoughtlessness.
Your fields we’ll tend and skies return to blue
for our desire lays above
where all that’s pure of heart does stands in queue.
Too soon our days on earth will end
but then, in joy will we return to you.
Oh, God please forgive our thoughtlessness.
Surely, we will all return to You?
*Inspiration musing on...
[Shema Yisrael adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad-
Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is One]
[I am the resurrection and the Light.]
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011
Nearby an ornate edifice meant for the worship of God
I kneel in the clearing of a verdant woods where sun’s light streams down -
spirit-touched, as nature’s choir chants and wind whispers prayers
Written 5/6/14 by Andrea Dietrich
for nette onclaud's Sijo in a Temple Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
One day there was an accident, and to heavens gate I was called.
As an angel sat down beside me, upon the bed I had been put upon.
Such a shining warmth ensued as it held me in its thrall.
A thought from God proclaimed, “What with your life have you done?”
Then all of life fled past me, but not as I did expect to see it done.
For all I saw and felt were things I hadn’t known I had done, and yet…
So much pain inflicted to each, with such little words and thoughts.
I never would have known such power, by one person, could be wrought.
I bowed my head in shame at the pain I knew I could not undo, yet…
Suddenly, I found myself forgiven. Yes, TRULY it was true!
Hallelujah became my amazed and impassioned cry before him, that night!
His warmth had never wavered, nor even his illustrious, wonderful light.
How could he forgive me, someone as wretched and lowly as I?
And yet, he did… and so he changed my life from then on out.
But low and behold he wasn’t yet done with me, or so my story goes…
He sent me back to my home again… it in comparison brought me low.
But he said my work lay uncompleted, so now I must go back…
He said to stay clean and I would blossom… What do you think of that?
A veil he placed upon my eyes to remove me from the knowledge of all I’d known.
Then he sent me from his side, where I could not see him but knew he was.
Now, here I stand before you, a totally changed and humbled one.
Still, I have found I have sinned again… I know he must have known.
Perhaps some day, as I patiently wait… I’ll be allowed once more within his gate.
Only time will tell, as again I’ll feel every ones pain…
All I can say is: God Forgive Me… as I continue to wait…
(This Near Death experience really happened and changed my life.)
Written 5-25-12 By Carol Eastman
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
I have been a Christian for many years,
Hiding behind the mad poet has drenched me with tears
For I am a sinner the chief of them all
Writing poetry that has made me feel appalled
I have coveted, lied, hated and stole
Indulged in adultery with an innocent sole
I have broken my family, and now live in separate homes
While writing perversions of my conquests in poems
The thing that worries me, is that I feel nothing at all
This is what scares Sidney. C Hall
I see the ten commandments almost all broken
Save for killing no words of remorse that are spoken
Am I destined to a life burning in hell?
As part of the masses with speeches that make heads swell
Denying God and not seeking his Grace
Awaiting the day to say “I have no excuse,” to his face
Or believing a lie that there is no forgiveness
And just going along my ungodly business
Ladies and Gentleman my soul is in turmoil
Sin runs through my veins causing my blood to boil
I say to myself Sid you need to change,
Then the next minute something take me out of range
But I feel nothing, so how can this scare me
If I feel nothing , why is fear in hell, I see
Could this be God preparing my final years
I hope and pray soaked in tears
Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet | Year Posted 2011
As our world spins into this blatant madness
Family units like dead leaves, fading fast!
Our children lost, good values tossed
Idols abound, keeps us in a choke!
Excesses, extreme shape our lives
The Golden Rule, now a corny joke!
A simple guide to can heal our earth-disregarded
Yet, in spite of all these,
God will have the final say
When wars and storms sweep across our earth
Leaders ignore the hour at hand
Perhaps, the last to stand as men
To right the wrongs of history past
And re enact laws to seal the cracks!
Potent winds arising, already on track
Remember, love for man and nature will heal this earth
Yes, I believe, in spite of all these,
My God will have the final say
So let the politicians, argue, fight and scheme
Let the liars, deceivers, play their games!”
Let death merchants chant their evil anthem
“It’s not a child, but a piece of flesh”!
While the years like pages torn from a book
All blowing away like dust in the wind
Gone forever beyond eternity's veil!
'Too simplistic', some claim, that love's the remedy
Yet, in spite of all these, I will fear no end, for
My God will have the final say!
Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2010
It’s a sad situation, the state of this nation
of murderers, molesters, and thieves
I can’t help but wonder as we continue to plunder
at how we create our own grief.
We bully and batter, look out for the splatter
as we rob our own children of pride,
It’s no wonder our sons take up their guns
while we all sit back and ask why.
In this generation, of vain masturbation,
which can create its own self in a tube,
Each woman is master and can now choose to blast her
fetus right out of the womb.
Gender reversal is no longer controversial
(in fact it’s barely thought of as odd).
As men become women I find my head spinning
at man’s struggle to be his own god.
When possibilities ignited we just got so excited
about the fact that we could,
that perhaps we forgot to think whether or not,
as a civil society we should.
Somewhere in the thicket chirps our Jimminy Cricket,
hoping that someone will hear,
While we in the piety of civilized society
stand stoic with fingers in ear.
Make no mistake ‘bout the risk that we take
by not heeding ol’ Jimminy’s call.
Consider the thought that God you are not
and pride always precedes the fall.
Copyright © Shelly Berkeley | Year Posted 2007
I left your side not long ago,
To run on Heaven‘s fields.
I know you’ll miss me daily,
While writing poems on the hills.
With no farewells exchanged,
And no time to say goodbye.
I was gone before you knew it,
And only God knows why.
Though we parted company,
I’ll check in from up above.
The hardest thing to do,
Is to leave the ones I love.
I wish, I could take your pain,
As you drown in sorrow’s sea.
Don’t let the emptiness of death,
Take the place of me.
I know you’ll grieve me dearly,
And your secret tears will flow.
But as you face this sadness,
Your happiness will grow.
Whenever you feel lonely,
My memories’ll get you through.
Please continue pressing on,
Don’t fill your life with I miss you’s.
Whenever you’re in heaven,
Please know the love will last.
For everyday is the same,
There’s no longing for the past.
For some day on life’s long road,
You’ll hear God call your name.
And on that day you hear His voice,
Peace’ll be yours to claim.
And we will walk again,
Up on these glistening fields.
And you can write your poems,
With me at your heels.
And when your life is over,
And God sets you free.
He will hand your loving hand,
A brand new leash for me.
For my late dog and Constance's
All Pets Go to Heaven Contest
Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009
My life surpassed, fades long, yet fast
(Below the dirt, my coffin's cast)
Despite how deep, however vast
I'll dwell inside that vacant mass
It's only He that understands,
The One that gave me Poet's hands
So tell me please, if you can-
How from dust arose a Man?
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013
The trees are still there every morning
Angry or sad
The sun beats down through your pores
Day after day after day.
And the moon will never stop.
And the spirit to which God has granted you
Walks with you
Penniless or pocketless.
"Something was dropped along the way,"
"Well it's true we shed ourselves over the years,
Pieces of ourselves everywhere,"
says the sliding Voice.
Identity is really only something
We think other people need.
So we pretend like we're separate from each other.
The word "firelight," is evocative.
The bloom of spirit and desire and
The ever-crackling of wild entanglement
Our lives like firelight
On the darkened beach
from the young and warm light
to the blazing chaos and wonder
to the toking and smoting and dimming
And the burial, and the cold.
I am as sad as the bottom of a well.
I have left something along the way.
A small appendage, maybe, I had meant to use at some point.
The Right Hand of God I was too distracted to keep hold of.
I am all other centerless beings
Dropping things here and there
A pen. A thought. A conviction.
And to keep hold,
to press on staring redemptively
At the circling Hands
To live in this way is to gain wisdom
And with wisdom there is always
the healing of sadness.
Senseless though, I know, like all else
And the evering was and the here we sit
Our eyes blinking tears from the bottom of a well.
Tearing from our core for
The love and need for others
And their hands.
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2008
A lump of clay upon God's wheel,
Twas such a simple start.
The gentlest of hands I could feel,
As He reshaped my heart.
If wrong things I may do or say,
Discard me he does not.
Like an earthly potter and his clay,
God uses what He's got.
A perfect vessel when he is done,
Nothing fancy yet you see.
But with God I must be number one,
For He still works on me.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2008
I am the hypocritical Christian.
I say I follow Christ,
But I'm still consumed by my demons.
I go to church on Sunday,
But I refuse to invite someone back.
I want to serve on mission,
But I'm too afraid to act.
They think I read The Bible,
But I just fall asleep in it.
They think I'm positivity and smiles,
But underneath I'm death and addictions.
They think I'm clean and pure,
But I'm broken and mistaken.
I say I'm not worthy of His love,
But Jesus will never let me be forsaken.
I pray long prayers,
But inside they're empty repetition.
It might look as if my faith is strong,
But my core is too easily shaken.
I say the things I'm supposed to say,
But don't follow His actions or obey.
I speak the truth the church wants to hear,
But deep inside on matters I don't know what to believe.
I walk in shame as if I'm not good enough
To be loved by God and saved through Christ,
But there is nothing I could ever do to earn His peace;
It's a free gift.
Now forgiven, changed, and released.
Thank You God,
Thank You Jesus,
Thank You Holy Spirit!
In Jesus' Holy Name,
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time
hearing the news before most of the World did
He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected
He had loves and passions from many places
deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
Not only did he love music and inspire all
He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul
The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened
It was John Denver's plane that went down
Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial
So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
always in loving memory
OH babe , do we hate you go ~
Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
"Leaving on a Jet Plane "
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
How ironic? Has God ever fallen in love?
I am sure the supreme power does have a clue about love.
Then why are many struggling with questions that have no answers.
If certain sensations are not meant to be then why does one have to go through it?
Or is it a good way to put a check list on Karmic activities.
One’s feeling doesn’t seem to make any sense and the restless notion only brings discomfort.
Even though some things seem so right and pulls one toward a make believe world,
Attempts and efforts don’t seem to fade away.
It is with the tornado of genuine feelings that keep the tingly feeling of love alive.
So does God understand this?
Even though modernization has struck onto the minds of many,
The devotion and willingness to surrender to that person develops a passionate and overpowering desire.
The sweet and sour, or bitter and sweet emotion creates fear or questions fate again and again.
Once the brave feeling has been awakened and humble efforts have been tried upon,
One cannot fight destiny, but can hopefully open a new change to Karmic policies.
As time goes by, one notices that it is no more days, weeks, months, but years that has shaken the foundation of a belief that finally love will conquer over the negativity,
Love is the feeling that has no answers but only a precious sensation is felt.
Again no answers, but more questions and experiences are shown and learnt in every way.
There must be something better stored for everyone that is why one walks through a chain of tests.
Happy living and sustain that positive attitude.
Copyright © Bhavna khemlani | Year Posted 2012
Commitments are hard
Time is swift and life is short
Faith in God makes a difference
Times will pass much easier
By Eve Roper 11/14/2014
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2014
No mother would fill up her eyes with tears of woman...
if it weren't for God performing a miracle at dawn,
as she cried out in joy and held her baby in trembling arms
but shed many sweet tears hearing his laughter so loud;
oh, he couldn't see her mommy's face through his tiny eyes,
and it will be long before he'll will utter the first word, " Mom."
Now that baby sleeps under the attentive look of his mom,
who's too young to become a mature woman;
many visions of this birth crossed her gleeful eyes
she dreamed of the very same words whispered at each dawn,
repeating them in her silly head as if they sounded too loud...
while cradling a pretty doll in her folded arms.
Will she be welcomed home by her parents opening their arms?
Will they reprimand her and not consider her a legal mom?
Perhaps they will not be angry and speak not so loud:
girls are supposed to be girls, not suddenly turn into woman...
So this innocent girl, deceived by a bad boy, must wake up at dawn
when her baby cries and feed him with scary, childish eyes?
Nights seem longer for her, trying to stay awake rubbing her eyes,
what she beheld in those exciting eyes, now it's a burden in her weary arms;
she remembers that pain was too unbearable, but joy more sublime at dawn...
how will she learn how to care for the infant by watching her mom?
She must have seen a nursery or read a book how to think like a real woman,
and can anyone imagine how she keeps that secret instead of revealing it loud?
She must gather enough courage inside to feed her baby who can't cry loud,
but for now she must carry that baby without sighs of distress into her bright eyes;
and her parents can see the changes making her a loving person already woman;
they may ask questions to why she has gained weight and holds dolls in her arms...
no, they aren't anticipating great news and in doubt, they await a splendid dawn.
Mother and daughter closely together amazed by the coming dawn,
any concealed secret can be easily spoken...somewhat joyful and loud;
they imagine the infant's futures will be part of grandma and mom!
Their reunited hearts come together to show love in their delighted eyes,
and they'll take turns feeding the new-born, tenderly lulling him in their arms;
what if forgiveness hadn't been there to deny her all of the joys of woman?
Would a mother deny her daughter compassion as a good woman?
Even God hurried dawn to offer that gift into her gracious, tender arms...
and those arms accepted it with the gentleness and kindness of mom.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010
I woke to the sound of sizzling bacon, the aroma of fresh baked Muffins and my Beautiful Lenore in her bright green Teddy. "Nubbies", I said, "what time is it." Lenore said" for You it is 3:30P.M., June 27th, 2013. You are in the O.R. at Dartmouth Hospital. For me it is time to bring YOU to Eternity for a short time."What are You talking about; Baby." I died last night before we had time to go to the Bridal Suite. I do not want You to go through that pain again. Please come with me to the railing on the starboard side of the ship."Below the shuffle board deck?""Nubbies, just
trust me." As we walked outside, I noticed there was no air,no breeze, no sea lapping against the side of the boat, the sun seemed pasted in the sky. Where is Mom and Dad;where's my Ma, Where is everybody? Harry we are frozen in time, for last night and today; never happened for you. I asked the Lord to give us this time together. I was 3 months pregnant when I said "I DO" I want you to see JoAnne Naomi Grow up. Now
Full Moonlight Stand on the railing with me and when I say 3; Jump. 1, 2, 3. You would think we would plummet into the Caribbean Sea, but we splashed into the Full Moon. The sun was warm,the birds sat on my shoulders, singing a song of Life Forever. The Peace, Serenity and Tranquility was unearthly. I then saw GOD and the Son of Salvation hugged me and in a Mezmerizing Voice said Welcome Home.
To be Continued
I want to apologize to those of YOU who are punctuationally bound to Poetry I do not know how to punctuate people talking. I know I'm suppose to use "" marks Sorry I LOVE YOU ALWAYS and FOREVER YOUR Liege...Harry
Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2013
“There is a time for each season…
To everything made…
There is a divine reason.
A time for purpose under
the heavens above…
A time for meaning from a God of love.
A time to be born. A time to die…
A time to farm the ground
under the beautiful sky.
A time to kill. A time to heal...
A time to tear down and
to build up with a passion and zeal
A time for weeping. A time for laughing…
A time to mourn. A time for dancing.
A time to keep...
A time to throw away.
A time to tear. A time to make amends today.
A time to get. A time for losing…
A time to keep. And to give
away at our choosing.
A time for silence. A time to speak…
A time for each hour
and day of the week.
A time for love. A time for hate…
A time for war. A time for peace at your gate.
How will you spend the time
God has given to you?
What is your choice? What will you do???
May this be a time living in
God’s purpose and design.
He created you and made
everything beautiful in his time!
By Jim Pemberton 05/22/10
Read Eccl. 3:1-11
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2011