THE ALL POWER IS GREATER!
The Big Bang designed the stratosphere and troposphere.
Below both majestic presence, Earth is the topography.
Today, all God’s creature roams freely.
Human being munificence is magnanimousness.
Now sits a child fulfilled.
She has her ink pen.
She aspires to be a writer – a great poet someday.
She is real to a righteous path.
Her themes and topics display a certain initiative.
God’s kind of poetry she leitmotifs vigorously and the melodies manifested.
A theological epitome inner cores and personification of the spirit went aglow.
Her radiance was beautiful.
Her voice recited the glory of the omnipotent.
God had sent the gift of psalm and she embraced him with open arms.
Baptism converted her soul to be a modern-day Apostle of the Lord God.
Prophecy she formed.
Wisdom and knowledge was born.
Her innateness was so strong that she was a natural.
Her libretti brought smiles.
When a release was necessitated from emotional dismay, her librettos bring hope and puts God’s speed in place.
The Lord God sent the gift of psalm.
In a whisper, is the strength of voice.
The Lord God provides the power.
The people exclaim, “This is God’s kind of poetry.”
Eloisa proclaims, “This is praise and worship of the omnipotent."
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 19, 2014 @ 12:48 A.M.!
Challenge Title "God's Kind Of Poetry' Contest!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
I wish I could write you a love song
Fill with heart felt words
I wish I could say that I love you and meant every word
But as you know I am just a man
And even now as I have grown
I still cannot understand the meaning of those three letter words.
I spent my life searching
I spent my days hoping
Even now as I have aged and have a family of my own
I still do not understand the meaning of those three letter words
They say, that they love you
They say, that they care
But their words are cheap and weigh no value.
My heart is still broken
My bones are weak
My nights are restless
And my soul is asleep.
I feel so hopeless
Defeated and crush
These burdens I carry
Have me buried in a dump.
I try to call out
I try to shout
But these words I speak
No one can hear me.
God take my hand
Lift my pain
Save me from this cane
I am afraid its about to leave a big old stain.
Lord I am in so much pain
These scares bring nothing but shame
Jesus please let it rain
Save me, I think I am about to go completely in sane.
Copyright © Patricia Garcia Howard Bramble | Year Posted 2015
It came to me one night, a dream
An idea, a thought, a better way
Is this all there is, this life I have
To wake and live another day
Exist just like a cloud, or shrub
To eat and sleep, work and play
Go here and there, do this, do that
Wait for Friday, bills to pay
The hairs are counted on our heads
Our bones will see decay
But the spirit will live on
Past when we’re old and grey
A plan, a purpose, his promises pure
I trust his word and pray
I know that my Redeemer lives
The truth, the life, the way
Copyright © Brian Moore | Year Posted 2015
A box under the bed holds my whole life
Letters from my first love who later became my wife
The shoes from my daughter’s first steps
To the flower she held as I walked her down the aisle
I’ll always be your baby she said with a smile
The watch my dad wore as he slipped away
I stood by his side the watch stop ticking that day
The promise ring I gave my darling before we wed
I’ll never forget the tears or the words she said
A photo of my mother in her younger years
Looking at that photo brings me to tears
Cancer took her smile grace and hair
I lost it when I lost her it just wasn’t fair
So a box under the bed means a lot to me
Containing my whole life and what use to be
Copyright © Alberta Richardson | Year Posted 2016
It is one of God’s tender amenities
That my love fits perfectly in my arms.
He matched with care our identities
Arranging a fitting exchange of charms.
It is one of God’s sweetest actions
To make our minds of like accord.
He thus ensured honest attractions
For which we daily thank our Lord.
It is one of God’s grand designs
To have us love after years long spent.
He perceives it is time that love refines,
Blessing our lives with that intent.
It is one of God’s goals for all His family
To lead lives faithful, upright, and true.
He knows that would restore sanity
And is what humankind must aim to do.
Copyright © YESHAMBEL BIRLIE | Year Posted 2014
Who's that staring through my window walls, with eyes as old as time
the clock has not yet moved and the wind outside has died
no breath for me to find nor the strength to check the time
unless the minute hand is lying theirs a chance i may have died
I wish this all a dream but the eyes i see dont lie, they have told me with their watching that all men do really cry
yet in vain is all my wishing but perhaps this is delusion of a sedimentary man with his mind ripe for losing
Come at me then red devil, I shout within my mind yet the tension I had hoped for was delayed and rather dry
no ravishingly velvet flame encircled this such room, nor were the furniture and ottoman thrown like an old shoe
marvelous the time in which a demon throwns your home and his only one intent is to stare right through your soul
to that i bid goodnight to you, to do as you wish, regardless of the manner I am nothing more then fish. to be shot out of a barrel for a fellow such as this
If you do deem it fit that I wake another morning all i ask is that the clocks all please return to working order
Copyright © chriss todd | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
written 10th Aug 2013
I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"
She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
Hold your head up, Grandma would say
and let me pull your hair from your face.
Stand up tall and properly, for a lady
it should look as though it comes naturally.
Oh Grandma, I would say. I just want to go
and with the boys play. I want to fish and
shoot marbles too and maybe some baseball,
if Bobby doesn't come too.
Who is Bobby, she said. Just a boy who doesn't
like girls who with their brothers hang.
Well maybe Bobby is right and a lovely girl
such as you, shouldn't be talking such slang.
I long to be where the boys are for they have
so much fun, it beats cooking and knitting
silly hats and gloves. Give it time and you
will see, she said, that being a lady is what
God has meant for you to be.
I would lay awake each night as I grew and I
dreamed of the places my brothers seen
and Bobby too. I always knew when they were
to return home for most often it was when the
cherry blossoms scented the lawn.
Then there came that Spring day when all of them
came home late, but all I could see was
Bobby standing at gate.
My heart did flutter and my cheeks, I knew were
flushed. I never knew I had also missed Bobby
just as much.
It has been 4 years now and I still wear Bobby's ring and
two beautiful children that in cherry blossoms we play.
I often think back to what Grandma said and I understand
now every word that still echo's in my head .
I think Grandma's have an inside tip
for she already knew the plan, before I did.
I will always love you Grandma.
Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2014
Incineration of Love God Madan Cupid
4 of Many
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994. The work was written in Hindi somewhere around 1965-70.
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Madan Dahan- Hindi name
The Glory of 2nd Age (Treta Yug)
The youthful prime period of Satyug,
Was at the verge of fading by now,
And the force of delusion had entered,
On the lovely Earth of Gods.
In such golden age of Gods,
Only Shiv* the God of destruction,
Was lost in deep contemplation,
To acquire the power of destruction.
To destroy delusion's opulence,
By the power of soul's force,
Created by the sacrifice of self,
And sufferings of the senses.
Kanpur India 24th April 2012
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup.
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2012
When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child, chai .
I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .
Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?
It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .
The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.
It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing , cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .
There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love, and reunited with the ones they lost .
The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time .
You could not, but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see .
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet, of the Hostility .
I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish, chosen Religion.
There as I held her frail , old hand , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago . In 1945 , once in our distant, yet Frightening past .
We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
" Etta Babooshka Kofman "
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
You can't see my soul,
But I think that you know,
It ain't what it is
But it is becoming what it will be,
Tapestries of the past and the jagged corners of the now and blended hope into the future,
Merge all three I's into one you'll see as me,
Past lessons good and bad were the threshold of today,
And as they melt into tomorrow
Ancient pains won't stand in my way,
Cuts and bruises scraped knees of life,
Will not hold me at bay,
As I learn and then grow stronger facing east each dawning day,
Face is worn and leathered life attempts to make me hard and steely grey,
Yet with every blow I weather I grow softer in the grace,
The old man inside me now sees what young arrogance of yesterday could not embrace,
Life tattoos you call em scars
But it's just how the one becoming me has come to be,
And the pains that cost the most
Are the wounds that you can't see,
The ink of life imprinted on my soul
Will become God's masterpiece
Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2013
As I sit and gaze at your picture
I travel back to days of yore
To the ranch on the Nebraska prairie
And the place where you called home.
I came to teach their school
And was introduced to you
My life changed at that moment
For what I saw was a man honest and true.
A man who since age fifteen
Has been on his own
His reputation it was good
And he worked nine years for the former 101.
He had just moved up the valley
To their uncle's ranch
When I came upon the scene
A city girl it seemed but I wasn't really green.
My mom was from her dad's Nebraska ranch
Not to far away
And her sister taught an Indian Government school
On the Rosebud Reservation..
My brother and sister
A cousin my age and I
Shared a life similar to the life
My Billy had.
Well, not really I'm afraid
We were a few years younger
And though most of our time was spent on horseback
There were no cows involved.
We played in the White River
Rode calves and hogs
While Billy at this same age
Had himself to support.
Now it was my turn to grow up
I took up teaching to go back to the plains
And met the man of my dreams
Who my life did change.
Snowed in following a blizzard in March
And five miles away
Billy rode down the valley horseback
Just to see me one day.
By then we already had marriage plans
But we hadn’t told a soul
It wasn’t till April Fools Day
We finally broke the news.
We ranched, raised our kids
And worked at Truck Parts
Forty-seven years and 2 weeks later
God called you home.
I had truly been blessed
With a good, honest, hard working man
Who is still here for me.
I thank You God with all my heart,
Three Christmases you have been gone
For Cathy it is four, it just doesn’t seem fair
But God has taken from you the pain you had
And I will always be grateful for that.
I love you dear and Merry Christmas.
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007
I am drifting into memories.
Wasting away like a million photographs fading in the sun-
Yet with ceaseless renewal,
Staining the depths of my eyes with images
In the minds shutter ever fluttering to infinity,
Stringing together this conscious stream I play in-
My stupendous God made of dust and space
Tightrope walking existence!
And to think we too are made of mostly nothing-
Chance so scarcely gracing our atoms with a single touch
In a place so lonely when counted,
Yet so abounding when felt!
So dance with the Dust God
Poised miles above the earth-
Prance on your stilts,
And peek into the great valleys beneath his skin.
Because any moment we could disappear
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason.
So much laughter, so many tears,
Yet all that’s sure is the season.
To few, all my days;
So many spent simply breezin’.
Should I regret their waste
When all that’s sure is the season?
What’s it been about anyway?
Perhaps there is no reason.
Did so want to learn the truth,
But all that’s sure is the season.
Always tried to consider others.
‘Tis much easier to be pleasin’.
How many are my friends?
All that’s sure is the season
Felt the urge to make my mark.
Fame or fortune was my reason.
Fear of failure was my tether,
For all that’s sure is the season.
A man of Christian faith,
Hope God finds me pleasin’.
Fair chance tho’, I’ll go to Hell,
Yes, all that’s sure is the season.
So what of value will I leave?
Hearts and souls I may be teasin’
With too few words too few will read,
While all that’s sure is the season.
Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason;
But thank God for each extra day I search.
Still, all that’s sure is the season.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
This poem is about how I feel the world has betrayed at most every turn.
I received my awakening,
About the age of three,
Too young for understanding,
Of why it was me.
A house full of roaches,
A room shared by four,
A floor thick with ashes,
A splintered front door.
At the age of three,
I cracked my head in the hall,
I asked my mom for a hug,
She slammed me into the wall.
Soon after this,
I was mauled by a Rott,
Just a random-found stray,
That tied my face in a knot.
Later that year,
My parents divorced,
Leaving me as,
A weakening force.
My mother moved away,
And took my baby sis,
Left the rest of family,
Without even a kiss.
Father was a drunk,
He hardly was capable,
Of nourishing his children,
So it was inescapable,
That CPS came,
Said, "Get it together",
I think then, he tries,
To make our lives better.
Months later, he drives,
To the grocery store,
Leaving us with babysitters,
He'd never done that before.
Next thing that I knew,
Banging at the door,
Two men with gold badges,
Yell, "Get on the floor!"
The babysitters dropped,
Hands behind head,
I thought my dad changed,
I see this instead.
I now see my father,
Glazed eyes, in handcuffs,
Police say its O.K.,
I see through their bluffs.
To my great-grandmother's,
On my father's side,
Her house was my new home,
A new place to reside.
Soon we moved again,
My father's dad's house next,
Everything was changing,
Life got more complex.
From this moment on,
I'm in therapy and day-treatment,
Being told there's something wrong,
Due to my prior maltreatment.
At my new house,
I gained a new brother,
Six years older than me,
I look up to him more than others.
Now seven years old,
In second grade,
Christmas is here!
My worst moment this decade.
Playing with new toys,
My brother, and me
Running around just like boys,
I said, "This day's perfect!"
My brother shook his head,
He said, “No day's perfect."
Which filled me with dread,
The very next morning,
Grandma told my sisters and I,
"To the living room, kids.”
My heart jumps to the sky.
"Last night, your mother...
Shot herself twice...”
These words dropped like bombs,
So strong, so concise.
"She was rushed to the hospital,
And put on life support."
Though I learned that that morning,
They pulled the plug from its port.
Why me? What'd I do?
A screaming, sobbing thought.
My life is a blur,
My pain is too large,
Is this life a punishment?
Dear God, What's My Charge?
Copyright © Jay Smith | Year Posted 2010
"Oh how I want, oh how I plea."
To that Big Guy in the clouds,
Yes, Someone to watch over me
Should I ever enlightened be
still to spirits and saints pray
But need someone to watch over me
Images of gods as mother or daddy
or pictures of anglicized Jesus
Oh how I want, oh how I plea
Hope my god holds me so easily
As into heaven I want to go
Someone, Oh yes to watch over me
Wondering at all the glory I see
Is this really all there is
Oh how I plea, and how I plea
After the millionth or so glory
Sadly wondering at this story,
Oh my god how must I plea
For someone to watch over me!
Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015
O'Lordy, a nuclear missile, yes nuclear.
Bent on control and devastation, control of a nuclear bomb destroying the Earth.
On land when feeling the destruction, fearful, powers of the lord, while seeking
Fearful, frightened, shivering, the day of judgement is only to'so.
How to construe power, fear and destruction.
The power is immense, shivering, a crack in the core.
Fearful, how will I survive?
Copyright © Moses Samandar | Year Posted 2014
My Sins – Zamreen Zarook
Oh God you are so gracious,
Am a guy who have done since in capacious,
At times I have being as a carnivorous,
But it charged ages to identify as dangerous.
Since are being committed behind the screen,
Even it started at my thirteen,
Mirrors used to say that I am evergreen,
Whereas my since were always unseen.
In enormous number I have executed,
But for every count, high privacy was aborted,
Simply because of your blessings we are bracketed,
If not, we are already being quoted.
Oh God, I understood your kindness,
Here after I won’t commit since in others absence,
However much chances I get to access,
I will always have heaven as my address.
Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013
Is It God We Trust? Or Leave In the Dust?
As our courts remove God from this great nation.
We are left with a confused and lost generation!
As God is taken away from our public schools.
A huge tide of immorality is what “rules.”
The Bible is often mocked and discarded.
It was on it’s principles this country was started!
Just about anything of God seems to get scorned.
So many “rush” to worship many ungodly forms.
As God’s name is often tossed and thrown out.
We tend to forget what HE is all about!
Too often, his plans for living are tossed and abused.
No wonder, there’s many who are lost and confused!
As people forget God and worship the fallen creature.
They look to themselves and “glorify” their features.
Many ignore God, and get involved in deep addictions.
And with this, come disease,
heartache and afflictions!
As God looks and sees this nation “bleeding.”
It’s his righteousness, that we need to be seeking!
If we would humble ourselves, he would hear our prayer!
He loves all of us! And he really does care!
Won’t you come to HIM, And invite him in?
Won’t you allow him to be your master and friend?
He brings strength and nourishment to the soul!
It’s only in him that we can be made whole!
By Jim Pemberton
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
Lies built - unto the throne
Living without guilt
Dying all alone.
Whatever she finds
Like god throwing stones
Brakes are broke
No chance to show
Vehicle now disabled
Watching us go.
February 22nd, 2008
this is dedicated to my sharp bud Christopher T. we hung out all day and tried to change the brakes on his van. Inspiration hit me with 3 short poems I'm posting. It was a good day and I had a lot more fun then anyone else. Including you ::points out of screen:: what did you do that day? Didn't hang with us, well,
that's too bad.
Copyright © Joel Thornton | Year Posted 2014
Walking in the meadow of life on that summer day
Where she always loved to be at Una walked along the steady stream
As she picked up the white Lilly flower and put upon her hair of gold (princess of love)
And the daughter of a dander king
Una suddenly turned her head to the old orchard tree and begun to sing roman lullabies of joy
With tears of affection shed for the god who lives above the skies
At that moment she gazed back to the stream
And there the lion stood so tall just like a king eyes wide looked to una
As she went toward the mighty lion he went to her and utter'd thee words
I am a creature of pride with nothing to hide I am pure of heart true of courage with a mask of savage a mane gold as our hearts-
She became very happy and intrigued
As she laid her gentle hands on upon the lion she spoke these words
-I love thee lion and by sun and moon I love thee freely as men strive for right;
I love thee purely in my old griefs and childhood's faith
There a tiny lamb appears right next to her and the lion
So small and graceful like a gift from god above
The tiny lamb followed them further into the enchanted meadow sky as crystal blue and the wind is calm they drifted off strung into the world
To bring new love joy and courage to the world and spread good faith
Copyright © Brian Otoole | Year Posted 2013
The soul shatters upon death. Sentience fractures into a million variables that swirl chaotically into piercing eyes that melt into the color sadness, spinning into galaxies that shrink to the size of ants and you twirl in a blender of being for eternities until finally, at long last, something sticks. Perhaps it may be as simple as a strand of hair, nonetheless all possibility spins around it, flashing contradictions of rainbow transparencies, empty solids and polka dotted space, continuing until a second hair joins the first, clutching to the nothingness and refusing to move. Soon thousands of hairs arrive and synchronize above a scalp unto a face, torso, limbs… materializing ever faster… and at once you are born. And just as the memory of your trial and error experiments and prior life evaporate, you embrace the arms of a stranger, gazing into her eyes, hung between this world and the next… sobbing in a fit of omniscience, in awe of your hard earned shape.
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
On that cloudy weekend in June
I hear a soft and graceful tune
from the grey bird on the tree
Singing sweet lullabies felt
blessed in the moment
My body tingles of joy at sight
Gazing out through
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon
Heart filled with emotion came
Grey bird stood playing its tune
for awhile and on the wings of
Then as the rain fell from the
sky the grey bird flew away
I blew a kiss to the clouds and
utterd these simple words of I
Love You father ( who's now in
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear
that grey bird sing again once
more for me
Farewell, love your son
Poem contest for Debbie -referential
Copyright © Brian Otoole | Year Posted 2013
Unnamed God’s Of The Winds
Ethereal unseeing creatures drink up the feathery winds
Immortals, ancient gods, ride on the backs of clouds
Smoke them like cigarettes unfiltered
Rise invisible to drink the sky and everything in it
Once rain fills them up they turn to fog
Another unnamed god
Filling up the bodies of the wind
Fog clouds empty again as rain
They come down just the same as puffs of smoke
Solid winds are stronger on the storm
Dragged down by water falls then drowned
You can feel them on the skin between the drops
Falling through the atmosphere
Created on 12/23/14 for -Shadow Hamilton’s -“Gods Of Winds” Poetry Contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
When He breaks you
It is to re-make you.
If given the choice
To give destiny your voice
You would undoubtedly have picked this state
Such is the irony of fate
He breaks you now
So you later see the how -
How the pieces of your journey come to be
A slow but eventual solving of this mystery
He makes you work work work – then fail
So that you realize your means are of no avail
Without His will -
But feel His mercy fill -
Even through the aches still
He punctures your bubble of hope
To teach you the meaning of struggling to cope
To avoid you saying ‘this was all from me’
Which you might say if it always did come so easy
He lets you fall
So that when you stand
It’s straight and tall
Your past sorrows
Not letting you drown
Without your ego
Weighing you down
Even while the road appears smooth
He lets you trip and trip again
So that you might stumble upon hidden treasures
From the dirt, which you may otherwise not gain
He knows Best
The perfect Teacher
Who puts the perfect test
He breaks you
To re-make you…
Copyright © Aya Salah | Year Posted 2013
A full moon night
to my delight
what is so wrong
with doing what's right
nothing is right
after so long
no use in complaining
time to move on
The Dream Water one day
might take me away
farther from the comfort
I float on my back
then shut my eyes
my body now sinking
into ocean arms open wide
Now swallow your son
back to his nature
when he is no longer
needed to stay here
the next generation
are dooming themselves
they need my experience
to guide them through hell
Why should I bother
on my own, I strive through
I turn my back on the thought
of bothering to save you
alone in this world
my, is it spacious
I'm finally smiling,
never so gracious.
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
Deamoo’s Passage – Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada
Little Bee, Deaamo, lies in her parting dress; a shade of herself ghosts.
One moment she’s bright eyed, the next she’s as blank as black-stone.
The frigid forest mirrors her—comings and goings. In the night
sky clouds mask and unmask, Nee-ba-gee’sis—the moon. A thin veil
of ice speaks. Birch branches commune with the falling snow.
Safe in a sage-dream, grandmother smiles; she will not see sunrise.
Family surrounds Deaamo, they’ve come from the sweat lodge at sunset.
Charged with life, the room wavers in tobacco, and sage smoke. Spirit
breathes. Astral ancestors arrive on the beat of drum and drift of snow.
Strands of gray hair escape from her braids. Once, they were black,
now, they trail beside her bird-frail form leaving her face unveiled.
A withered hand clasps a cowrie shell—mee-ghis, a key to the darkness,
clasped in the other, a dream catcher to ward her grandchild’s night.
The lodge is empty. The clan comes to her from starry dark, to light
hearth fires. Outside, stars wait. They will guide her through the veil;
bright beacons in a clearer sky. Inside and out are ancient wraiths.
Friends surround chanting, drumming softly. Outside in the onyx black,
Pacugu hoots. A ring of blessed stones marks four directions in the snow;
the way west is plain. Presents for The Great Horned One lie in the snow.
Soon, Little Bee will enter the spirit house, between earth, and night sky.
Owl will lead her over the bridge, keeping her from an earth-bound darkness.
Grandmother is Iron Woman. She’s helped many under, Gee’sis—the sun;
she is good. She can read the glyphs and tells the best jiibay a—ghost
stories. Tonight, they listen as she tell her last story. The night’s veil
thins. Her eldest granddaughter, Aamoo, sits on the bed’s edge hiding
sadness behind her hands. “It’s beautiful outside Grandmother, snow
hangs heavy from the balsam pine. The fire is lit and the smoke ghosts
upward, showing the way to where Gichi Manidoo waits in the midnight
sky.” Grandmother’s eyelids flutter and her breath comes soft as sunlight.
The song fade. Deamoo murmurs, “Ready.” Sons carry her into the dark.
Oh so gently, they place her on furs and cover her with the pitch-black
skin of a bear. “Tell me the Ladder story child.” Deamoo whispers “lift the veil.”
Surrounded by loved ones Aamoo speaks. “Long ago … when the sunset
on an old ones life, a shining spirit would come down the vine ladder—snow
or not Grandmother, a messenger from Manidoo would take them into the night
sky to the fork in the Milky Way.” Stars fill Grandmother’s eyes; she ghosts.
Earthly sounds fade into dark as Grandmother’s soul rises through snowflakes.
Her husk, a lifted veil, releases her to the blue half-moon’s winter night.
Like the morning sun or evening moon; she ascends up the ladder; she ghosts.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015
that soft sail
and the wind looks as if
it’s trying hard to breathe
i have elements in me
a compass borrowed, for some sorrow i assuaged
my eyes upward and unfolding
over some wave i might beach
my cuffs are turned up
and arms are a reelin’, in that wind I know
is my kite yet to a’sail on this sea
coming for me
Copyright © Gerry Mattia | Year Posted 2013
I have found the light and happy I am
Its the Lamb I trust
It must be all the forgotten lust
I have to take to the heavens
Been writing poetry since I was eleven
Been working on selflessness and being pure
Worried about the future as we his Exodus
This is my life it has no price
I am on the road see through God anything is possible
No relapse to the old me, But I have to admit
Its hard watching everyone else fall to hell's bells
while I am in the book of Life because I've already been scared straight
I wont take the bait
To hate its like being locked in a crate
God always gives me a clean slate
Not to be irate but I am always up late awake
saying a prayer for my little brother
Cracking the safe code to his little heart
All of us are screaming glory to the universe
While the devils rain cloud trembles with sweat
I wont let him get to me God says I am free
Just call me a solder of the cross
Gods the boss and he says I can do this.
Copyright © Seth Shirey | Year Posted 2015
WAITING FOR GOD
At four score years and ten
Our Gran is physically spry
But her mind is beginning to wander
And I often ask God, "Why?"
She's a most delightful lady
With smooth, porcelain-like skin
She loves her large family
And has the most wicked of grins.
But her mind is beginning to wander
And she's now starting to live in the past
It's hard for her to remember
Who's who at the family repasts.
She loves to be among the children
But she doesn't know who they all are
Not only is her mind beginning to wander
She's now taken to walking afar.
One day we couldn't locate her
We walked twice around the block
We had to call in the police
It gave us all such a shock.
We found her sitting at the bus stop
It really was quite odd
We asked her what she was doing
She answered, smiling sweetly, "Waiting for God."
© ELR 2013
Copyright © Miss Wattle | Year Posted 2013