She writes of darkness like her soul’s been sold
But deep inside she has a heart of gold
Words brought on by a darkened past
At times she prayed that she would breathe her last
There was no one that she could turn to
When suddenly the light came shining through
Her life was changed from an endless curse
Now she puts her story in poetic verse
Overcoming her fears and the urge to kill
She used her poems as a coping skill
From an angel of darkness she ascended
To an angel of light completely mended
So read the dark poet, it’ll give you a start
But please be careful, she’ll steal your heart.
I wonder how things work, up there in the promised land,
I am willing to bet that your party there this year will be Grand.
Maybe there are other angel's tying up balloons and lighting chandeliers,
The love up there is more fullfiling then any we can find down here.
I bet you can dance now, and stand and walk all on your own.
I bet you sing amazingly, and you never have to sing alone.
I bet you have great discussions about all of us you left behind,
I just wanted to let you know, we are all going to be just fine.
See we are more blessed than most others ever get to be,
they wouldn't understand unless they felt love like you gave to me.
so Beautiful, so sweet, you were and are perfect in every way.
and I just wanted to say I miss you, and Happy Birthday!
Don't worry about us down here, you just enjoy your big day.
because, "I'm turning 21 with Jesus" is something we can only dream to say.
our tears aren't from sadness babygirl, this I hope you know.
It's just it's hard for us all to have a love so sincere and then have to let it go.
But, you go on back to your party and dance with your grandpa once for me.
and just know that I am happy for you, these tears,.... well sissy they are for me.
I love you bunches babygirl, there isn't anything I wouldn't give for another chance,
to just swoop you up into my arms, and have another dance.
I know I can't just yet but, please know I honor the memory,
of those days I was dancing with the Angel the good Lord sent to me,
I know that time has passed now, what was loaned must be sent home.
Just it's hard on your Birthday.... for us not to feel a little alone.
All Rights Reserved
I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write”
I had been going through a personal plight,
I ventured off into a place,
Where all I saw was love and grace,
The season was the beginning of spring,
When life can be heard, and the air starts to sing,
But the place I was in was an endless row of rest,
Yet I was able to admire how well it was dressed,
Glory symbols stationed all around,
One stood tall far off the ground,
Wings wide- ranging, angelic that gleamed,
Surrounded by flowers whose colors were sheen,
Blues of the ocean, reds of the evening sky,
I reflected on greatness, as the time passed by,
I came upon a sculpture, a cherub, with a face,
A tear in his right eye, looking down at this place,
A letter to God leaned against this particular one,
It read clearly on top, “Please Lord, hold my son”
I continued on, walking down this strip,
When suddenly, I slipped and had a hard trip,
I fell by a giant weeping willow tree,
Then looked up at the fixture right in front of me,
Out of all the others, this monument was painted the best,
Its beauty surpassed all of the rest,
I marveled at his golden strands,
His skin looked like the color of sand,
Looking up from off the ground,
It looked as though he wore a crown,
His creamy gown was long and still,
My eyes felt like they had started to spill,
His mere presence seemed to fill me with humility,
My legs were limp, I felt a lack of mobility,
What was this kind, who had made him?
Then, he spoke “You were never forsaken”
Chills overwhelmed my body quite fast,
I had no idea, I was his task,
I said, "what is your name,"
And He gently sighed,
“Your never alone, just enjoy your life’s ride”
I had been in a struggle, for quite some time,
He spoke once more, “You will be Fine”
His glimmering light calmed my inner plight,
His afterglow, made my heart know,
That sometimes in life we go through a trial,
And even when it seems like it’s lasted awhile,
God sends his messengers right on time,
He is never late, and His words are like wind chimes,
Soothing the mountains, calming the inner storms,
Restoring us back to our proper forms,
I looked up once more, but He had disappeared,
My faith had grown deeper, and I knew God was near,
I rested a while, under that old willow tree,
I felt compelled to write what had happened to me,
It was now the early part of night, I began with,
"I heard an angel speak last night and he said to write.”
By: Sabina keough
Twelve little girls and eight little boys
Each one the source of their parent’s joys,
Innocent children following rules,
Paper and pencils their magical tools.
Holidays coming, rehearsal of plays,
These were the most exciting of days.
Safe in their classroom as their teacher smiled
Noting the presence of each beloved child.
No inkling of trouble, no feeling of doom
Until a mad man invaded the room.
I so hope these children had no time for fear
And had no idea that death was so near.
Six brave teachers went to their deaths,
Protecting the children with very last breaths.
The big gates of heaven then opened wide
For six teachers ushering children inside.
Twenty small children are angels today,
And six faithful teachers in Heaven to stay.
Mothers and fathers and siblings and more
Are mourning their loved ones whom they adore.
The teachers who willingly gave up their lives
To protect their charges were daughters and wives.
Some had their own children whom they left behind.
No braver soldiers could one ever find.
A whole town is weeping for dear ones they lost.
How long must innocents bear the high cost
For folks who clamor for right to bear arms?
You’d think such mayhem would lessen guns' charms.
These things will keep happening, the danger unchanged,
Until we keep assault rifles from hands of deranged.
By: Joyce Johnson
There is a spirit that watches over you
In the daylight hours, and nightime too.
You may not think that they are there
But there is a way to make you aware.
I learned the name of my angel a long time ago
Because I was interested and I wanted to know.
His name is "Maximus" and is with me here
To learn of his presence once made me fear.
Because what you do is watched all the day
The angel keeps tabs, God finds out that way.
I guess you think I'm being naive
Trust your faith, if you believe.
If you want to know your angel's name
There is a way to find out which is no game.
Say a prayer for three days in a row
And after each time ask him to reveal his name to you.
If you believe in him he will tell you true
If not, he may be silent to you.
I know of others who have tried this I can say
Some, have learned the names of their angels this way.
When you pray for their name do not think it absurd
Some, I know, will hear that singular word.
It won't come as a shout from heaven on high
But rather as a whisper, when your angel is nigh.
These spiritual beings are here for us all
Sometimes they wait just to here us call.
And when you do wouldn't if be grand
If you knew the spirit's name...who behind you stands!
Try it and see if you think I'm fooling around
Be honest with yourself with both feet on the ground.
As someday that spiritual angel you will greet
Wouldn't it be nice to be on a "first name" basis when you meet?
And if you try but do not hear their name
Keep on trying because your conviction was lame.
I know many will think I'm crazy with this
But knowing my angel's name has brought comfort and bliss.
So try it yourself and see if in kind
If your angel will speak to you...they really don't mind.
Because then a dialogue with them you can share,
Even if they never speak again, you'll know...they're there.
When death came, I declared that I could not leave soon
For I had not seen the summer flowers in bloom
Starting them from just a seed back when there was still snow.. white
As they began maturing, I could tell each one on sight
Just large enough to be transplanted that spring day
The blooms were visible in thought only, in May
The angel came in early morn to take me by the hand
I bid him let me stay because my life was just sand
Now I have a new responsibility here
Down where the flowers bloom and to me are so dear
Life is not just about the house, washing the dishes clean
It's about love, our fellowman; only a few I've seen
Thank you death angel for letting me stay that day
I'll give this life that I've got left the best day's pay
I have once flown in the clouds.
Helping people then been blacked out.
The world has changed my wings are black.
Lost all hope need to sleep but never can't.
So I lay on this concrete slab.
My soul is gone but wounding if I will get on track.
Seeing things white but now I have changed.
Now I am just a black dark angel living in pain
God has a plan,
And it is out of my hands.
Two angels from the sky
They are here not to fly
Standing in front of the altar
Singing “You are my only star”
Holding a book with your lovely twin
Voices so soft you might see our grin
Looking so cute and adorable
It’s my heart you really capture
They are wearing long white dresses
Sparkling like diamonds in small pieces
My favorite figurine angels inside my room
Happiness filled in my heart, no more in gloom
January 23, 2013
Inspired by two figurine angels that my friend gave me as a
Christmas gift last December and for Nathan's Contest picture :)
For Nathan's "Precious Moments" Contest
First Place Winner
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.