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Christian Memory Poems | Christian Poems About Memory

These Christian Memory poems are examples of Christian poems about Memory. These are the best examples of Christian Memory poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

The Family That God Gave to Me

The Family That God Gave to Me I think about the family, that God gave to me... And think about where they'll spend eternity! I think about the good times, that we've had. And the trials we've faced... Both good and bad! God helped us to overcome adversity together! And proved his faithfulness... Today and forever! He showed us the Godly path, that we should follow... And promised to be with us! Today and tomorrow! He's proven how much he loves us! And how much that he cares for us! Thank you my lord, for all you do! Where would we be? If not for you? You've proven yourself over and over again! Thank you so much, for being our friend! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry | |

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.

Copyright © VICTOR BUN | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

The Masters

h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that

determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,

Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

For An Abused Child

If I Could Have Gotten Your Embryo
Before You Were Born
I Would Have Sheltered You Safely
and Protected Your Form ...

I'd Have Put You In My Womb
& Flowed You Knowledge Like In A Tubric
& Patted My Expanding Belly
As I Played You Music

And As You Got Ready
To Arrive From The Birth Canal
You Would've Known My Breasts
Would Be Ringing Like Welcome Bells! ...

Eager To Suckle You
Breast Feed My Own Flesh & Nourish
So You Could Grow Strong
... In Love's Encourage

I Would've Held You In Wonder
& So Close Tenderly
Amazed At This Little Bundle,
Breathing, Piece of Me ...

And When You Turned One
Or As You Sucked Your Thumb
Or Eating Baby Food Jars of Plums
... I'd Have Given You Trumpets & Drums

... And Building Alphabet Blocks
& Superman Capes
& Stuffed Teddy Bears
& Oatmeal Cookies & Grapes

I'd Have Read You Stories
From Capt. Adventure Books
You'd Have Known You Were Loved
By My Proud Mama Looks

I'd Have Spent Time With You
Showing You How To Tie Your Shoe
Rocked You If You Caught The Flu
or Any Sniffles You Went Through ...

I Would Have Played With You
& Prayed With You
From Crawling To Walking
Paved The Way For You

Yeah, I Would Have Fussed At You
& When Needed Even Spanked You Too
& I'd Meant: This Hurts Me More Than You
'Cause You're The Little Symbiot, Mama Grew

So, You Would Have Known
You Were Loved & Treasured
You Would Have Known
Your Worth Couldn't Be Measured

Nor Compared To Anyone Else
At Any Point In Time
'Cause You Are The Best
Because You Were "Mine"

* * * * * * *

But I Never Knew You
But Believe Me If I Had ...
I'd A Made Sure You Had 
A Loving Mom & Dad

And You Would've Never Been Abused
Or Treated Bad ...
But From Now On Find Your Joy
To Replace What's Sad


            Written & Copyrighted ©:  9/12/2013 
             by:  MoonBee Canady

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

March

It's March. we'll never reach it/ no matter how fast you go/
I'm breathing/ it's cold and chilly/ I'm lying right on the floor/
It's March. it's obedient, humble, ridiculous, playful and rude/
with lipstick on mirror's surface/ "everything's gonna be good"/
it's night. black veil in square / of window /and it expands/
you can take any star from the heaven’s roof/ grabbing it with your hand/
milky way - is the fountainhead channel / for galaxies to begin /
get the glass from the kitchen and pour it /with pure and shining moon milk/
Emptiness isn’t the absence/ of particles/ molecules/ cells
Like if they never knew the secrets/ like if they nothing have to tell/
Void’s more like broken dishes / pieces stuck somewhere in chest/ 
We make a short trailer of our movie/ trying to do our best/
Cigarettes/ coffee/ balcony/ exhale-eat-pray- and love/
Morse is similar to the Braille alphabet/ falling as music above/
Night is dying / I see its grin/ universe’s twirling the window touch/
I look into its soul/which is eaten/ by sadness/ it’s March. It is March.

Copyright © Ilya Emelin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

In The Rain

Written June 6, 2013


The preacher read the gospel
And we sank into our tears
Tearing down the curtain
We've been behind for all these years

A baby leaves its mother
An angel drops its wings
Leave me bound against the wall
Dangling by a string

Sitting by the window
Hoping she'll remember me
Sitting by the window
Contemplating memories

Resolve your inhibitions
And you'll find me in the garden
Where the flowers drink champagne
And God is in the rain

Copyright © Brandon Carter | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC | |

Never in a million years

Never in a million years would i have thought 
this to be,
my bestfriend, companion, and so special
to me.
if i wouldnt have opened my eyes,
she could have just passed by and walked right 
outta my life.
but in Gods weird since of loving humor way,
today he brought Brittany Back to stay,
a life from my past that i had lost,
never knowing what would be Gods cost.
Now i sit hear always waiting to see,
her simple smile brighten up for me.
The friendship, hugs, smiles and the tug at my heart,
now i know it was just the start.
I may not always be the best,
but yet she still chooses me above all the rest.
all i ask is please let this be I love you Brittany,
and God please bring her home to Me...

By:Devin Frost

Copyright © Devin frost | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Country Memory

Purple gumdrops in a crystal flowered bowl
Needlepoint left in a rocking chair, maybe for show
Lace curtains in the parlor, ageless and refined
Stockings of gray hung on the mantle so defined

White candlesticks sitting upon the black marble mantle
Clear as day the front doorbell rings, a melody soft and gentle
Aromas of gingerbread mingle with an air of peppermint
Cuddling in Grandpas' lap, sighing softly with contentment

Checkerboard laid across an old antique table of yore
Kissing Grandmas' cheek, getting a hug and many more
Playing in mud puddles, pushing little cars in the sand
Swinging on an old tire swing, loving Gods' land

Copyright © Roger Hadden | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Merry Christmas In Heaven

Merry Christmas in Heaven
From all of us here
You're not forgotten on Christmas
Nor throughout the whole year
Your smile, your laughter
Your holiday cheer
Fill the air in this place
If I sit quiet, it's clear
Words can't express the sadness we feel
Though you're in Heaven without one single tear
I'll see you again behind golden gates
For Jesus is coming, I know it is near
Merry Christmas in Heaven
I wish you were here

Copyright © Sarah Sublett | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

What I Want For Christmas

What I Want For Christmas
By Curtis Johnson

I suppose I could use a new pair of pants, a suit of cloths, a coat,  or a light jacket. But that is not what I want.  I don’t need new front teeth, but I suppose that I’d be happy with a nice new Volvo. But that’s not what I want.  So please don’t ask me about needs and wants, because the media keeps me occupied with such things.

When I consider the plight of the lonely, the wounded, and the poor, I suppose that I would be happy if I received nothing at all.  I would not complaint if  I were simply blessed to be alive, fed, dry, and warm.

It’s Christmas, and there are always many things that people seek. Christmas is a season to draw near, to be dear, and to show love outside of the box. It’s even more meaningful if we keep it simple, avoid all the fuss, the rush, the stress, and maybe spend a little bit less.

There really is something that I would like for Christmas, but it’s more to do with giving to others and nothing to do with personal getting.  It doesn’t cost a lot of money or a lot of time; and I don’t have to camp out in front of a store or form a long line.  It’s like this:  I want to see my family get together on Christmas eve, enjoy one another, have a nice meal, and share a gift or two.  I want the satisfaction of knowing that two families in Uganda, Africa will eat on Christmas Day, because my wife and I sent money to them on December 3rd.  

Christmas doesn’t have to cost much, if we would stop the rush, and cease buying so much of such and such.  This blessed Christmas season, I would like to recapture three captivating moments that I experienced as a little boy at Christmas time.

I would like to recapture the aroma of my mama’s fresh baked cakes and pies at Christmas time. I would like to recapture the magnificent fragrance of apples and oranges throughout our house at Christmas time.  And I would like to recapture the pleasant look on my daddy’s face after he had done his best to make all 12 of his children happy at Christmas time.  

The blessedness of family life,  and being able to give a little love outside the box.
Recapturing the aroma of mama’s baking, the fragrance of fruit, and daddy’s face at Christmas time. Some things in life are costly, but what I want most for Christmas is priceless.
Cj121107

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? | |

My Love

my love...

my love blossoms amidst the thunder

across the oceans and the beyond the seas

my love reaches out and touches

the moments of bliss as the loneliness flees

my love is simple
with profound feelings of yearning desire

my love rages within
the furnace of this aching heart's unquenchable fire

my love basks in the warmth of the knowledge

that in the spring it takes root and it will flower

my love breathes in the light fragrance

of her hair after her warm and delicate shower

my love remembers drowning in her eyes

of those ethereal moments frozen forever more

my love recalls the fleeting ticking of the clock

each minute apart stabbing at my very core

my love she knows I need her so

for she needs me just as much

my love she sprinkles light flourishes of her sensual touch

as my love for her continues to ceaselessly grow

my love reaches down into the crevasses of my of being

my love for her is held onto deep inside

for in the coming of the cold ache of seperation

my love settles between the folds of her heart, for 'tis there that my love for will reside

my love like an eternal dream caresses me in wakefulness and in sleep

and that is the feeling that I shall cherish

a feeling of love that has settled in me 

a feeling so pure and a feeling so very deep...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

The Bourgeois and the Spinning Wheel

In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams

Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay

The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways 
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire 
She presses her finger on the thorn 
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? | |

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries.

Epochs apart, yet,
bound by conscience,

Buddha, 
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

Enduring the whispers of time,
through creeds professed,
sermons preached,
and a million sins confessed.

Though,

the essence,
of these banished revolutionaries,
is ceremonially muted by ritual,
and gleefully crushed under,
grandiose edifices,
that serve Religion Inc.

"And the meek shall inherit the earth",
an incendiary thought,
conveniently discarded,
for the pie in the sky that must be sought.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
stings.
stabs,
whispers still,
for us to hear,
through the din of the cacophony of prayer.

Buddha,
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
persists,
each day that we choose,
to shun the meek,
and mouth conscience-salving prayers,

for yet more silver,
and yet more silk.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Healing mountain

Sitting on a tranquil mountain top
as I do from time to time
looking down at the view before me
listening to the calming silence
to heal my battered soul
and clear my troubled mind.

I look down to the bottom
to remind me
of how far I have come
and where I used to be
The mountain only exists
in my imagination
but I go there when I need
when live's battles get too much
It heals and restores me
once more like before
free from
stress and anxiety.

Peter Dome.copyright.2012.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Roses For Mama

He's drempt of his mama in her garden of love,
surrounded by angels in heaven above.
Peaceful waters flow through a bubbling brook,
where her roses grew in every little nook.
She cherished the roses he had bought for her in life,
capturing their beauty and the colors of their sight.
When she was ill he knelt beside her bed,
and handed her roses with the tears that he shed.
She said don't cry for me it's beautiful over there,
where they climb so gracefully up Heaven's golden stair.
He visits her grave and places roses in her cup,
rest assured with Jesus she forever sup.
The rose bush he planted for her still grows today,
just as it did when Jesus took her away.
No sickness nor pain she can smell once more,
as she embelishes in her roses surrounded by her door.
She said plant you some roses in rememerance of me,
as you stroll through my garden waiting for you I'll be.

Copyright © Shannon tackett | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |

Midnight at Blackfriars

Midnight at Blackfriars 
  
The city spires are hidden, 
It’s getting colder fast, 
It feels as though we might have 
Some snow this month at last. 
The wind sweeps keenly through St. Giles(1) 
The hour is getting late. 
Fleeting forms across the scene, 
Are making for the gate. 
  
December is upon us, 
The year is wearing thin, 
Parishioners from town and gown 
Now are gathering in.  
Rosy cheeks are shining, 
There’s a spirit of good will, 
We’re coming in for Midnight Mass 
The Christmas Eve Vigil. 
  
Forgotten is the riot  
Of Saint Scholastic’s Day,(2) 
To celebrate the Savior’s birth, 
We worship now and pray. 
Conjoining with the acolytes 
Dressed in cassock’s white, 
We’re caroling together, 
Upon the holy night. 
  
A gallant in best evening wear, 
Bow tie and cummerbund, 
And a high-heeled damsel on his arm, 
Is down from Summertown. 
A staff nurse from the Radcliffe,(3)  
Whose shift was at an end, 
Was seated close beside them 
Clutching at her friend. 
  
There the widow all in black, 
Who cleans the votive stands, 
Holds her missal open 
With stubby fingered hands. 
She blends with the congregants, 
Ignoring the celebs,  
And is back up for the service 
From somewhere in St. Ebbs.(4) 
  
A student in thick sweaters 
And ragged scarf of grey 
Is seated on the furthest aisle 
Hair all in disarray. 
Across the nave the prayer chairs, 
Range back in their rows, 
Filling up with congregants 
In coats and gloves and throws. 
  
In from the rear the friars process 
With candles all aglow, 
Up the side aisle to the chancel, 
Caroling as they go. 
Above their heads upon the walls 
Are stations of the cross, 
Reminders set in stark relief 
Of this night’s final cost. 
  
We see the prior in chasuble 
For the apse proceeding, 
To celebrate communion 
And give the sacred reading. 
The greatest story ever told 
Unfolds with familiar ring 
Filling our hearts with the promise 
Of Christ the new born king. 
  
Then with the service over, 
We make for the hall below, 
Where cocoa and mince pies and sherry 
Are served before we go.  
Outside the snow is dusting  
The chained bikes in the Fair, 
Contented now we homeward fade 
Through the Christmas air. 


(1)Saint Giles Fair - Convergence of the Banbury and Woodstock Roads in Oxford extending south the Magdalen Street by Martyrs Memorial.

(2) The St Scholastica Day riot of 10 February 1355

(3) Radcliffe Infirmary - The first Oxford Hospital 

(4) St Ebbes is a district of central Oxford, England,

Copyright © Neil McLeod | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

MLK - 1929 - 1968

MLK...
(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)


they shot you down
all those years ago

but

your dream lives on
and always will

for though much has been
gained since you dreamed
your dream

there is much to fight for
and much more to struggle for

and much, much more
to fight for still

so
your dream resounds in
our hearts and we pledge 
this to you today
for though they shot you down
all those years ago on a memphis day
we shall overcome
this we do believe
deep in our hearts
that
we shall overcome
someday...


(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Who said that

When we were asked about that,
To disclose the person who said that,
We denied the fact related to that that,
And said we don't know who said that,
But that 'we' was inclusive of who said that.

Copyright © Tilahun Nigatu | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

A Good Man

He healed, changed individual persons,
But Guttmann caused, beckoned legislation,
His remembrance went towards our fitness, warmth;
He behaved in the name of love, meaning,
For his neighbours, country residents, friends.


Poetry form: syllabic, not free verse

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Crazy Attachment

Lord I'm attached to this man.
I dont talk to nobody about this.
You the only one who understand.
 
He is a really nice guy.
We seem to have a lot in common.
I really really care for him. 
I could even say I love him.

I want him. I dont want him.
He cares for me but dont want me.
I don't want him to want me or care for me.
Weird.
It's a lot of confusion on my end.
Sometimes I get frustrated and go anti socail on men.  
Even though it has nothing to do with men
but really has every thing to do with me.
I feel selfish because I dont want him with nobody else
BUT I dont want him with me either.
I feel crazy,Maybe I am
I fear that he may be a blessing that I will miss out on.
Right person at the wrong time
It seems like he has my heart and we JUST  friends.
He dont know this. I dont want him to know this.
Nobody knows this but you Lord. Nobody!!
 Just One night,strong connection with him
 Lord please unattach me from this man. 
I think about him all the time.
I'm just divorced,2 kids from the last guy, 
want him not ready for him.
Its like want I him now vs not ready to be with ANYONE anytime soon.
It was just one night with him!!!Dam I hate him! Lord help me. Please give me strenth in the name of Jesus. Thanks for listening lord. I know you hear me. I love you. 

(I just ask him to go to the movies today,what the hell was I thinking? I need to stay way from him. I like him too much. Pray for me)

Copyright © Christy Love | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

making It great in 2008 (part 14)The Legacy Live On: This Do You

the computer is the automobile of post industrial times
that innovative technology that has completely consumed our minds
It's gotten to the point where no one can function without
it's the core of our everyday existence with nary a doubt
we're now in the midst of the Information Age
and the World Wide Web is now all the rage
efficient, productive in it's ability
with super sufficient memory capability

but computer memory capability is not a new fad
but it's remembering the love for us that Jesus the Christ had
He'd always put the needs of His fellow man first
would give up His last drop of water despite His own thirst
willing to sacrifice His life and die for His brothers
unselfish in the love He had for all others
and at His last supper He made a request
that would forever put our memories to the test
"drink this wine and eat this bread in memory of Me"
This Do You as my lasting legacy

to use our spiritual memory for the Lord Jesus the Christ
to partake of the Holy Communion as a part of our Christian life
This do You was the Lord Christ's command
This do You as a part of God's master plans

Paul wrote this letter so the memory of Jesus would be deployed
for the memory and love of Christ is what gives us eternal joy
joy is the thing that will lift you up when you're feeling down
joy in the positive thing that will turn depression around
joy is the love legacy that comes from the heavenly throne
joy is the energy that will keep one going strong
it comes from the Lord God and goes beyond mere human understanding
joy is that seed that the Lord God is always pruning and planting

This Do You in memory of Jesus the Christ
by making the Holy Communion a part of your everyday Christian life
This Do you in remembrance of Him
whose blood was shed to cleanse us of sin
This Do You to the year 2008 
This Do You to make the year great




Copyright © louise nelson | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ballad | |

A Fond Memory

I have a fond memory
Of a house back a lane
Oh how I wish 
I could visit again

The three who were there
Were so special to me
And each time I'd visit
My heart filled with glee

The setting was country
But oh it was grand
And I loved setting on the swing
Surveying the land

Love filled each room
God's spirit was there
And besides hospitality
You were shown such love and such care

Their were three at one time
Then two and then one
And finally all of them
Made their journey home

I miss them so
But I know that someday
In Heaven I'll see them
Together again

A Tribute To: Elvin * Ralph * and Dora Lykens

Copyright © Sammy Lykens | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative | |

She Cried Holy

She Cried, “Holy!”
By Curtis Johnson

It amazes me that she came to mind after some 50 years.
She lived far back across the fields, alone with not a care.
She was laughed at and talked about; some were afraid of her.

No one was ever harmed by her, and everyone stayed out of her way.
Even when they avoided her, it was difficult to escape the sound of her voice.
Up close or across the fields, we heard her so clearly and sincerely crying, “H o l y!”

She was not sociable, and perhaps even a bit eccentric.  Though religious, she was not  a Mother Teresa type of lady.  I do not remember a smile from her toward anybody for any reason.  Was she out of her mind as some suggested?  Was she a voice crying in the wilderness?  Was she on a divine assignment from God?  Was she a saint or holy person?  I most assuredly did not know then, and I am presently content to let God be the judge of that.  But she had no doubt about her God being Holy, because with unrelenting commitment, she cried, “H o l y!”

It’s clear to me that at some point, God became the center of her every affection.  Indeed, she deemed it her mission to proclaim the Holiness of God  to a needy people. So without refrain, fear, or hesitation, she simply continued to shout,       “H o l y!”

She was unconventional, unsophisticated, unconcerned, and unlike anyone I have ever known.  She cared not about what people said, thought, of felt about her.  She was fearless, and nothing mattered except her mission.  She was called the ‘sanctified lady’; but time after time, come rain or come shine, she paid them no mind, and she never ceased or declined.  She just cried, “H o l y!”

I never knew her name  or whatever became of her, but she was a small framed lady with a strong and deep sounding voice.  It’s the cry of her voice that brings my eyes to tears.  Without apology or regard for public opinion, from her home deep across the corn and cotton fields, we often heard her crying, “H o l y!”

I don’t recall anything else she ever said, nor anything else she ever did.  But I must say that if she was on a divine assignment,  God must have been pleased with her.  I suspect that it was a lonely and often cruel assignment causing pain and ridicule.  But she bore the pain; she had nothing to gain; her message was clear and plain; she refused to refrain. She certainly was not popular, and I don’t remember a friend she ever had.  But ever true to her task, from the depths of her soul, she cried, “H o l y!” cj09122015

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

A Good Rule To Follow

Just do what ever you think if you must,
Cause with you there can be no trust.
   Faith and love is what you must learn,
It is  something you must go out and earn.
   Respect and understanding is how you must start,
To keep a love from completely falling apart.
   If Joy and Happiness is what you seek ,
Then be strong and true it will be yours to keep.
   Kindness and compassion is a good rule to follow,
It will bring brighter days for al your tomorrows .
    Love as if it were the last day of your life,
Try caring with open arms and do not fight .
    This life is precious if there is someone to love ,
Try to remember that it is a gift from above.
TAC

Copyright © TIMOTHY CARTER | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballad | |

Apron Strings

When I was young,
I often clung,
to many little things.
I'd reach up high,
again retie,
my mama's apron strings.

I sometimes did,
what mom forbid,
although she'd make it clear.
Thoughts still linger.
I remember,
through each fleeting year.

Acquainted still,
her stories thrill,
with many left untold.
I can't go back,
though mem'ries track,
to years I'd rather hold.

I'm lost in thought,
it can't be caught,
despite my futile search -
mama singing,
mama bringing,
this small boy to church.

Though I was touched,
and changed so much,
through Christ, the perfect One -
I cannot stay,
time slips away,
from all that she had done.

I try to grasp,
and hands I clasp,
around those many things -
but mem-ry strands,
slip through my hands -
just like those apron strings.

I miss her so.
Emotions show.
There's moistness in my eyes.
I can't withhold,
though I am old,
my oft guilt-ridden cries.

Though sometimes sad,
I'm always glad,
whenever I think of -
my mama's cares,
my mama's prayers,
and her most precious love.

©2011 louis gander / ganderpoems.org

Copyright © louis gander | Year Posted 2016

Details | Quatrain | |

Loving Memory

Our death on earth is our birth to the next
The process getting to the next can be difficult 
Troubled be not
Helping hand of our Lord Eternal God, Father Christ surrounds us

03042013

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Remember When

I Remember When
By Curtis Johnson

At first I suppose there was the thought of how things use to be; and over time, how things are now.
Like the time I thought about a childhood friend name Dennis, and how I would have loved to see him again.
With a guy like Dennis there would have been so many “remember when’s”, and  “what?  I never knew that”.
But you see, a short while after I wrote about Dennis, I discovered that he had died in a fire many years before.
And just like that, all my dreams of ever seeing Dennis again faded away

So I thought to myself, “How sad, I never knew”.
Not even an opportunity to pay respects for a beloved childhood friend.                 Why did we never bother to connect or even inquire about one another? Even now, when I think about it, my eyes gets watery, but a fresh bash of determination ignites inside of me.  The fire inside of me burns to the point whereby I want to hasten the chase.  I want to  find another old friend before someone else bites the dust.   I just want to say, Hi”, or “What’s happening?”, or “What’s been going on for the past 30 or 40 years”?

What is so wrong with that? We have gone high tech,                                    but we have also gone far too long detached.                                             Why must we disconnect, disassociate, disregard,                                         and let old times and memories die?
Why can’t we find or take the time?                                                            Why can’t we just reconnect if but for a day                                                  or an hour to just laugh or cry?
There is too much pain to allow life to go on this way,                                        when otherwise we have so much to gain before we all die?

I say no!  My quest has already begun.  I’m on a mission,                               and I cannot stop, because I got light to shine and love to share.

Cj032808 5:15 PM PST

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose | |

Nine Eleven

Nine Eleven
By Curtis Johnson

I did not have any exposure to news on the morning of  911 until I entered my truck to go to work. The Radio 1530 am news station in Sacramento was my primary news source, and when I turned it on, at least one plane had already crashed the tower.  I was a bit dazed by it all, not clear about what was really happening.  

I arrived at work to learn that “Yes”, we would work that day, but our normal end of the day runs to the airport would be curtailed.  All the routes would have to come straight to the yard, because all the planes across the nation were being grounded.                                                                                                  

I was not afraid personally, because I was not affected directly in a violent way.  But to realize the pain of all the families of the people that were killed was heart breaking.   So I wept and prayed for those who wept.

I will simply relate two observations relative to what I experienced on September 11, 2001. Our pastor and church immediately called for a prayer meeting the night of 911.  I got off work and went to that prayer meeting after dinner with my family.  It was not difficult to convince  people that we needed God, not only for future protection of the unknown, but we needed him “now” to get through a major tragedy. A national calamity had drawn America to its knees, and we all pulled together and toward God.  Our day had begun with our eyes and ears glued to radios and television sets.  That same day was ending with our eyes and ears tuned toward God on bended knees.

The military wall of the strongest nation on earth had been breached, and an enemy had done the unthinkable.  Two of the tallest buildings in America had been brought down without a missile.  A large section of the Pentagon had been destroyed without a single act of defense.   Were it not for the brave maneuvers by passengers in a fourth plane, the White House would have been toppled.

My second observation is one that can not be measured in the usual sense, because it relates to the moods that I encountered throughout that day.  With or without words, there was something I felt whether it was the person I passed on the street or the motorist I saw on the freeway.  There was a somber spirit and a sense of unity that said, “We are in this together”.   Yes, it was a catastrophic event that made us kneel before God and feel brotherly love toward one another.  
Cj09112015 11:04 PM Sac., Ca

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Aging Prophetess

February 5, 2014

His words echo through the mouthpiece.
His voice squeaks like a tot,
but she knows he’s a robust young man.
Isn’t he? 
Is she confused again?
What day is it? What time? What day again?
Bodies move in slow motion.
They did not used to be that way.
Things were different,
More beautiful, spun on the loom,
and quilted with indifference.
That’s why it’s better now,
Or is she peering into the future again?
She gets so confused.

Copyright © Kim Bond | Year Posted 2014