The congregation eyed him skeptically
Long hair, a beard and sandals on his feet
Beyond his exterior they’d not see
This rambler had just come in from the street
He blessed himself with the sign of the cross
And joined fully in each hymn that was sung
It was soon apparent it was their loss
When he greeted God with a gentle tongue
“Lord, You sent Your Son to roam on this earth
His hair was long and to some seemed unkempt
And when He preached, insults were often hurled
But He was not repelled by their contempt
“And so, Lord, I seek forgiveness for these
Who cannot see beyond the clothes I wear
I’ll not be put down by those I displease
I ask for forgiveness, make them aware
“That Your Son sported sandals and a beard
I ask You judge them not as they judge me”
When the mass ended, the man disappeared
At heaven’s gate his name’s on the marquis
Some of the congregation dwell below
But the homeless man now sits by God’s side
For he had chosen love’s path to follow
Appearances he did never deride
*For Jared's "At First Glance" Contest
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.
As long as man has lived upon this Earth
The quest for beacons of light has endured
Primitive cultures, man’s earliest ancestors
Found wonder in the moon’s allure
Upon the seas, more advanced civilizations
Made their way guided by celestial orbs
Eventually creating historic lighthouses
To guide their navigational course
Greeks found solace in a light
Emanating from Mount Olympus
Gods and Goddesses they worshiped
Until the discovery of those truly blessed
God’s light serves as our beacon now
Eternal glow that guides us through storms
And when we discover this light’s power
The spirit of the believer transforms
Satan’s path winds only through darkness
Images of eternal suffering emerge
When we fail to find the beacon of light
And remove the stain of sinful scourge
It is man’s choice to pursue radiance or darkness
The preferred path is usually lit by the bright
For just as early man perceived from the moon
Souls are ever drawn to beacons of light
*For Wounded Words "Eternal Figures" challenge
Well my friend, my conscience would not allow me the pleasure.
The pleasure not to report the news that I treasure. That as I
open the book, the book full of new's, a book full of true's.
All that I know, and them to be in doubt, one day they will all
shout, "He's coming back", "Before the nite is over". That's what
the Bible (the book) is all about. "Enter ye in at the straitgate: for
wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction.
Lord (now): "Show me the way Home", the poem is all about subduction.
"Before the night is Over, the attempt is to capture your mind". So may
you be aware, as he is lead, lead like a lamb to be slaughter. He is
beaten like as if they don't care, he look like news I cann't share but
the book (Bible) say's the reason he suffer for you and for me.
Because Love, Well yes my friend, [Love] is the reason to feel free!!..
My conscience want allow me the pleasure, that I too was less inform.
That, cause of my sin, I couldn't be reform, and many amonst many was
also in doubt. "Before the night is Over, hope all once blind, now see".
Before the nite is over, before the night is become dawn and just before
the dew hit's the ground.
"Give your life to what is living and not to a deadless Clover". Do this, feel
"Before the night is Over".
Gone are the days of childlike hope and dreams.
Our tender years were cast on life's broad streams.
Rich mem'ries float on waters still serene,
while thoughts drift past the seasons in-between.
That final bend of river not yet seen,
we set out seeking vistas new and clean,
where aging frame and psyche' still burn bright,
made strong and sharp as blades in morning's light.
We'd dream and see realities yet new.
Our aging forms, set free, would test as true
those aptitudes and skills not proved since youth.
The vision, quite sublime, has become truth.
We'd run the race as when young, full of drive,
to sense a new resolve, to feel alive.
The blood and air would surge deep in our chest,
hearts striving one more time to be the best.
Perhaps, we'd stand on mountain tops and view
our world and all its peoples kind and true.
If foes of that time bid earth-mates good will,
we'd aim from common fate all strife to still.
And, when the course of each life had been run,
we'd pray wise God affirms all was well done,
while setting each soul free from fated slings
he bids us soar on air that yields to wings.
His daddy is fighting in Iraq.
His mommy is fighting tears.
His brother is fighting death.
He is fighting his desolation and fears.
Friends are but a dream
and companions are an illusion.
School is a concentration camp,
but he stands, though alone, in the midst of confusion.
His training school is loneliness.
His milestones are fears, thrust in lies.
His only weapon is faith
and his bullets are soft "hallelujah" cries.
Strength left his fragile body
and he lost the fight in life so coy,
yet on his knees he conquered agony
and I call him the little soldier boy.
When I went to the Temple
It should have felt like home
So as I sat in the pew
Why did I feel all alone
Was my heart disconnected
Was there something wrong with me
Why did I feel like running
From a place that felt empty
Three thousand souls I counted
The church grew before my eyes
I went to look for answers
Yet I left with all my whys
Why was the music perfect
Why did others have no flaws
As I sought my redemption
I drowned within the applause
After the entertainment
As I walked out open doors
I drifted on life's ocean
In a boat that had no oars
Hands held out towards heaven
Within solitude God was kind
As I took time to ponder
I surrendered body and mind
Now Church is not about me
Or the way it makes me feel
Whenever I praise my Savior
The Temple becomes more real
Now I can take church with me
To the places that I go
Within a heart of thankfulness
He allows my love to grow
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.
Heaven has kissed the rolling hill
the ocean waves, and desert
an earthly token of goodwill
set sparrows to sing in concert.
A gentle touch awakes the morn
in shades of pomegranate
a fragile lipping, dawn is born
through the woods and cliffs of granite.
The globes caressed and embraced
as each denizen is delighted
for death is not a rendered grace
life is heaven, all are invited.
We don't expect something from nothing
but always keep hope lightly lit
We want what we know won't be quite good for us
and force situations which never will fit
We speak when we should hold our tongues by the throat
and let silence bounce off the air
We verbalize nothing and yet all at once
we scream that the world is unfair
We hold all the cards to our life in one hand
and grab with the other at dreams
We grow up imperfect and tragic and bent
and about to burst out at the seams
And yet in this comedy of errors
we still pin dark dignity down and demand
that we're made in the image of One who is mighty
and not a mere mortal, a man
We yearn for a taste of perfection
and search with an uncommon zeal
We reach out for moments which polish our bones
and convince us our future is real...
There is a tiny box of dolls
On the shelf by my bed
Each doll is for one worry that
May swirl inside my head
The box was given to me by
A friend, whom I adore
It started me to wondering
Just what is Worry for?
Does it serve any function as
I purpose through each day?
Will it relieve my deepest pain
Or guide me on my way?
Can it lesson my misery
Would it minimize strife?
And, will it add one single hour
To the end of my life?
The answer to my question is
Of course, "NO", it cannot!
So, Worry has no place in me
No victory it's wrought
The dolls-- I'll keep them anyhow
And use them differently
I'm sure my good friend wouldn't mind
A new idea, you see:
I'll pluck each miniature doll
From its box every night
And thank the Lord for giving me
A more eternal sight
Yes, with each petite figure I
Shall count one blessing too
And pray before I sleep that He'll
Make anxious hearts like new!
Sometimes, I think about my life
And the prices I have paid
All the places I have been
The choices I have made
Seems somewhere along the path
I stumbled upon a stone
At that moment I realized
I’d forgotten my way home
My home became a prison cell
My memory was forgotten
My soul was like an egg
An egg that had gone rotten
Sorry I had to go away
You didn’t deserve my shame
I moved very far away
No connection to my name
My life has always been a lie
One I kept hidden from you
When you thought I was in college
Serving time up in the zoo
On the day I was released
You thought I graduated
The moment you were most proud
Another lie to be hated
I have learned it’s never to late
I believe those words are true
Grandma I’m on a mission
I will graduate for you
I really want to earn the pride
You gave me so long ago
I think it will bring some peace
Releasing guilt up in my soul
I’ve learned in the game of life
We must earn our pride
Even if the people are gone
Resting on the other side
I’ve learned in the game of life
Even though they may be hard
Choices aren’t like rolling dice
They're not like flipping cards
Choices define who we are
I know these words are true
Every choice I know make
Are bringing me back home to you
Grandma, I know where heaven is
It’s right here inside my heart
Inside of mine your memory
Until death will never part
During the time I have left
I vow to always let it show
All the seeds you sowed in me
I shall nourish as they grow
In the end I’ll sit with you
Just like when I was a boy
We’ll sing and praise Jesus’ name
With eternal everlasting joy
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.
Marching down life’s highway, my feet became very sore
I then came upon a sign that read “Heaven’s Grocery Store”
When I got closer the doors swung open wide
Next thing I knew I was standing there inside
I saw a flock of angels positioned everywhere
They handed me a basket and said, “Child shop with care.”
Everything a human required was in that grocery store
With many commodities to carry, you could always come back for more
First I acquired some Patience; Love was in that same row
Further down was Understanding, you require that everywhere you go
I grabbed a box of Wisdom and Faith, a bag or two
And obtained Charity of course but more than just a few
And then reached for Courage to help me run this wicked race
My basket was almost full but remembered some loving Grace
I then chose Salvation for it was advertised as free
I tried to collect enough of that for both you and me
Then I started to the counter to pay my grocery bill
For I thought I had everything to do the Master’s will
As I went up the aisle, I saw Prayer and proceeded put that in
For I knew when I stepped outside I was bound to encounter sin
Peace and Joy were plentiful, the last thing on that shelf
Song and Praise were hanging near so I just helped myself
Then I asked an angel, “Now how much do I owe?”
She smiled and said, “Just take them wherever you may go.”
Again I asked, “No really, how much do I owe?”
“My child,” she said, “God paid your bill a long time ago.”
In deep of woods, I sink into pain’s hell
As footsteps grind heavily on lowland calm,
Where a staring raven cannot foretell,
How near or far I'll be from sorrow’s harm.
While flickers of light descend on relay
Hovering on leaves, grim hues still prevail,
Yet, breaths endure the sting from evening’s play
Till clouds devour my gray doubts, I begin to wail.
And as I droop wearily in bent form,
This lifeline succumbs to uncertainty,
That beads of prayer dissolve before dawn
Compounding all fears beneath the wise tree.
Somehow, a dove climbs on my lap, to show
How the moon rises as new flowers glide;
While Heaven awaits starlight's afterglow
Enshrining this moment where peace abides.
Gail Doyle's Finding God Contest
poetrysoup must finely flourish
This is my most sincere wish
Her difficulties give me anguish
She helps swim every poet-fish
By giving the site my best write
I must supply minds bright light
The site provides enough delight
I must take her to a great height
For a long time the site never opened
I was worried as to what happened
My agonies due to this deepened
No help at all I could usefully send
A site which helps all noble poets
By giving to their emotions outlets
Getting troubles gives great regrets
As all poets got caught in worry-nets
I felt like a sad fish out of water
When the site I could not enter
Due to defect in my brain-computer
Membership problems I did encounter
The site gave kindly clarification
By intimating me the rectification
Proper application of correction
Ended in membership-completion
I felt like hugging my mother
And being kissed by my father
Kindly embraced by my brother
My mind faced nice weather
A site where poets play
And their skill they display
Their ideas they convey
poetrysoup shows a way
Really her presence is a gift
As she gives to emotions lift
If her happiness suffers theft
In the lurch we poets are left
May God bless dear poetrysoup
As she has a lovely poets' group
Using pen we poets form a troop
This Godly site, none can dupe.
SEARCH MY NAME IN GOOGLE OR YAHOO
That night within the garden lost,
How many tears were spent
In search of love at any cost?
How many hearts were rent?
Sin for a sin the coins were tossed!
How many lusts were vent
To quench the unrelented--mossed?
How many paid a cent?
In destination's final dross,
How many souls repent--
Escaping payment with The Cross?
How many knew Him sent?
It is for sure, not springtime here
Shorter days now how bare His trees.
And looking back draws eyes to tear
For waste and loss of all my greed.
To sail the seas and not return
My ship sinks in the straight of dire.
Its keel has split, its hull to burn,
A spark to start my driftwood fire.
My greed will feed this driftwood fire.
Heap high this waif to be no loss.
No wisdom from my follies liar
Burn high! Oh! Burn you holocaust.
My ship of dreams I build no more
Fragments be hacked my vain desire
To toss like trash and be ignored
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.
Self-indulgence fed driftwood fire
Now as to turn from what it seems
Left to me a works of priers
Never to sail my ship of dreams.
I pondered from my window long
Fanning my passion ever higher.
I cursed His name to sing my song,
A blast to stoke this driftwood fire.
Arrogance torched this driftwood fire.
Let my sins perish with my ships.
To right my wrongs I now aspire.
So let them burn without my kiss.
Resurrecting souls dreams have killed
To pull myself from deep quagmire.
And warm my heart which time has chilled.
Remorse now fuels my driftwood fire.
Self-pride will feed my driftwood fire.
These cords of which I gladly burn
Dreams or follies of mud are mire
No loss to me and no concern.
I've heard the sirens song too long
Uncharted seas with sails which tire.
With all my dreams and fancies gone
Let crackling rings my driftwood fire.
Steam hisses from this driftwood fire.
Stream's me toward sweet isles of peace
Bright flash and gleam of my attire
Shall fall in lour of my decease.
For fortuned Isles my eyes have cryed.
My dreams I leave to whom I sire
I'm cremated before I die
Consumed within this driftwood fire.
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire
When in my grave I take my task
Point for my Lord my vain desires
As chilled ember and cooling ash.
Your life is a journey
Which will never wax or wane
A beacon of bottled moonlight
Anchored waves of radiant rain
There is no demise
Or salvation of plundered plight
Cast into a sea of superstition
In the depths of torrential night
Your life transcends flesh
That sinking vessel which we mourn
It resides in a shipwrecked message
Found on the shores of faith’s forlorn
Close your eyes
And dream you had wings
For you were graced
And the harps did sing
All around you
In the celestial sky
Are the gracious of many
Let me tell you why
For we can not see
What we want there to be
For out there
Winged angels are free
They are hidden shadows
But covered we are not all
For life is living
And some of us fall
Live your life
And live it true
In your background shadows
An angel walks for you
Israel had been under tyrant oppression
God sent Moses to redeem them from suppression
He promised to manifest His sign and wonder
And extend His Finger of Power over Nut, the god of thunder
Nile was like a sea of blood on the first day of the plague
The magicians were dumbfounded and vague
Nile hitherto served as Egypt National cake
Became ravaged as millions of creatures died in the lake
On day two, God brought frogs from Nile
They died and stink along the foe’s mile
Thus, Jeshurun judged Heqet of earth
The frog goddess of birth
On the third day God administered judgment on Zet
The ‘mighty’ and the dreadful, he was the god of the dessert
Magicians marveled at the miracle of Moses’ rod
And declared to Pharaoh, “This is the Finger of God”
On the fifth day God judged the goddess Hathor
She was the spirit of cattle, a violent author
He slays her cattle and plagued them with boil
Amidst it all Pharaoh’s heart was harden like a golf ball
On the seventh day, God plagued Egypt with Hail
The sky goddess Nut was attacked and jail
In all these Israel was not affected
He was miraculously covered and protected
On the ninth day Egypt was clothed in a cloak of darkness
Nevertheless Pharaoh’s heart was still heartless
But the home of the righteous was as a nimbus of radiant light
As the glory of the Lord has risen upon their plight
God judged Isis the ‘Protector’ as the first fruits were killed
In this plague was the scripture fulfilled
They overcame him (Isis) by the blood of the lamb
And by the steadfast confession of faith in ‘I AM”
Satan is a destroyer and a ‘blackmailer’
But Christ is our redeemer and our healer
What the nine plagues couldn’t do
The blood of the Lamb gave a clue
By faith he (Moses) kept the Passover and the sprinkling of the blood, lest he who destroyed the firstborn should touch them. Hebrew 11:28
Fill me once more,Holy Spirit to know,
Move me ,inside,you love to show,
Quieten my heart,now to play
Without rehearsal,on life's stage each phrase to say.
Speak,speak by thought,picture,word or deed,
Then in my weakness,your strength feed:
O teach my tomgue to quiet be,
Until you prompt,and all I say,is all of thee.
This quatrain was inspired by Abraham Cowley's (1618-67) 'Hymn to Light'
A small grave, and for it's weeds was bare
with only a handmade wooden cross.
Easy to see that a child rest there.
Poor unloved young soul was my first thought.
Well I read this cross, for this child of grief.
"John my young son so frail and fair
my joy, my love, my life I leave
to the arms of your mother and Lord's care."
The back read; "To doctors all my money I gave
I cannot buy even a simple stone
with a borrowed spade, I have dug your grave,
I carve this marker, and am now alone."
That wooden cross, seemed to rise
high above great marble markers.
Thoughts rush my mind as I realized
the pain this poor man's heart had harbored.
Never again his son he will see
knowing his child would rests under cold ground.
As unkempt as this grave seemed to be,
with it's wooden cross and it’s weeds all around.
I pulled at those weeds with my bare hand
then my flowers I laid at the foot of that cross.
I prayed "Please God, help me understand"
as I felt the pain of another man's loss.
it became a nightmare above all else,
enriched with cinders of an ashen dream.
the power of freedom asks a heavy price:
our intelligence is not all it may seem...
A child believes many things,
Especially what he is told.
People usually stop believing
When they think that they are old.
Why this is, I don't quite know;
For in my youth, I can't say,
Maybe they stop trusting in life
When they find their hairs are grey.
Or perhaps they are saddened when
They feel they've been betrayed
When they learn that life is far too short
Despite how much they've prayed
But there is hope to which I cling
That as I age, I wish to achieve:
You're only as old as you feel,
And you feel what you believe.
I sat quietly weeping
My womb forever sleeping
No baby ever to grow there in.
Doctor says that I am barren.
Years go by I try to cope.
Lovers leave there is no hope.
Strange these flutters in my belly.
Sick so sick, everything is so smelly.
Flutters turn to kicks and wiggles.
Labor pains, and I have the giggles.
Husband standing by my side.
Now four children are my pride.
I'm sure you think I'm crying.
You think it hurts so bad.
The only thing that truly hurt,
was when I lost my dad.
He really wanted me to know
the way life was meant to be.
He always tried to help me out.
He truly cared for me.
I pray one day I'll see him
laughing once again.
He was so much more than people knew.
He was part of a bigger plan.
Now he's gone to heaven
and I hope he's looking down.
I need him still to guide me
when I laugh and when I frown.
Within these vast and roofless hallowed halls
Under skies holding clouds like distant smoke.
Beyond heaving hills sunlight fades and falls.
Stands a solitary, grand, majestic oak.
As this great oak's shadow looms far and fast
Stretching as light of evening turns to shade.
Colors red and yellow soft clear as glass.
A moment's view this picture God has made.
In Heaven gold and silver will be His grass.
His love is extended beauty's center piece.
Not briefly, but eternally beauty shall last.
Heaven's pasture with light, sweet joy, and peace.
Theo artist have tried with word, oil and stone
To recreate which God to all men give
No canvas or sculpture shall ever clone
Beauty of both pastures where we may live.
There on that bench, here in this park
Was where I met God, alone in the dark.
He wasn’t adorned with riches galore.
He was a pauper man, not needing more.
He sat with me then, as I was so scared.
Just eight years old, and I got lost at the fair.
Separated from family, didn’t know where to go
I sat on the bench and waited there so.
Along came this man, scared of him I was
Until he sat next to me, I lost fear because
He spoke with a tone and offered a hand,
A sign to me that he would understand.
I told him my story. He said not to fear.
He’d stay with me until family was near.
I felt reassured and safe as could be.
His warm soft voice, it blanketed me.
Then in the distance, my dad had appeared.
He was right all along, I had nothing to fear.
My dad came up crying and hugged me so tight.
I then turned to that man to wish him goodnight.
He was there on the bench, I knew it for sure.
When I turned my head, he wasn’t there anymore.
I looked at my dad and told him of my tale
He smiled back at me and fell awfully pale.
He said, “Son when you need him, God does appear.
It’s not very strange that He was right here.
He serves and protects and loves us all much.
I believe He was here and gave you His touch.”
I was amazed at those words that my father said.
I couldn’t wait to go home and pray at my bed.
“Dear God up in the Heaven, I thank you, I do.
You sent me a savior and that savior was You.
You reached to this child, protected this night.
You offered him hope and provided light.
You took away his fear and made him feel warm.
Mostly, Dear God, you kept him from harm.
Is your soul blood red
A dowry of bitter wine
Staining the divine
Is eternity a prison
The rusty knife of time
Carving your senses
Caging your mind
Is flesh a pardon
A tactile bribe
Begging the question
What is alive
Is there a reason
In this chalice of mine
To sip my faith
And fear no demise
Is there a forever
In your crying eye
A word to grasp
When your child has died