When the storm clouds boil around me,
And the lightning splits the sky--.
When the howling wind assails me,
And life's sea is rolling high--
When my heart is filled with terror,
And my fears, I can't allay--
Then I find sweet peace and comfort,
When I simply stop and pray.
When the things of life confound me,
And my faith is ebbing low--
When my trusted friends betray me,
And my heart is aching so--
When the night seems black and endless,
And I long for light of day--
Then I find a silver dawning,
When I simply stop and pray.
There are things beyond the heavens
I can't begin to understand,
But I know that God is living,
And I know He holds my hand.
Yes, I know He watches o'er me
All the night and all the day--
And He's always there to hear me
When I simply stop and pray.
Copyright © William Robinson
You gave Your life,
You took my place.
I should have died,
On Calvary's tree,
But You stepped in,
And died for me.
What can I say?
What can I do?
To show my love,
To You my Lord,
My Savior King,
For becoming my
Here is my heart,
Here is my soul,
Come Lord Jesus,
The old is gone,
You've made me new.
You died for me,
I'll live for you.
Copyright © Kim Merryman
one piece of string
wrapped with wax
made all by hand
a beacon - of light
slender and white
burning so brightly
in a window tonight
there in the stillness
whispering a prayer
into the midnight air
In a flickering flame
spelling your name
until I find you again
there in the darkness
on a bloody battlefield
lying in the frozen rain
wounded crying in pain
and in a flickering flame
again I spell your name
A spark of recognition
ignites your lonely eyes
as you reach out to me
Your hope and your love
your light and your wife
here to comfort you tonight
Copyright © Elaine George
I want to
I really do
I want to walk the walk
But I have a limp
Hobbled by all the things I think
There seems to be more than one missing link
On the beach of life, I try stepping softly but still I sink
I want to
I really do
I want to talk the talk
But I'm afraid, fifty shades of grey times two
How do I know if what I believe is true?
Will it be evidenced by the things I do?
Or in the end will I be influenced by you?
Walking and talking
It's just not enough
I need to relinquish all my inner stuff
Allowing myself to be weak instead of tough
For if God works in mysterious ways
Everything leads to the end of days
So instead of walking and talking my hands I'll raise
With voice and heart I will give God praise
If I allow Jesus to love me
He will guide my walk
He will permeate my heart and the way I talk
My inner softness he will surely unlock
His words not mine will become my rock
it's not about doing
It's more about being
His way, is the way of helping and seeing
By letting Him lead, it will be more freeing
The more I witness the more I'll be believing
Walking and talking but more importantly listening!
Inspired by Debbie Guzzi's contest but not for the contest.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux
Tell me that this fear is just paranoia in my mind,
we're not straining, we're not struggling,
we're not sinking, we're just fine.
I'm not perfect my dearest, but damn have I tried,
and I'll try harder but I know I'll have the same results every time.
Do you want me all the ways that I am?
With all the struggles and the tears and the clinging to your hand.
I fear your getting further and Im left on the shore to stand,
watching you in the distance with a bullet in my hand.
Tell me all this worry, its just clutter in my mind,
tell me not to worry that we're doing just fine.
Cause Im scared to run you off and I feel Im falling deep.
And Im so frightened of these thoughts that its getting hard to sleep.
All I know is that the heart wants what it desires,
because of you the match inside has turned into a fire.
And I feel the broken glass thats sticking from my skin,
Wondering if you'll remove the pain or push it back in.
My hearts frantic wondering if you feel the same,
pleading and begging for more than just a saying,
but to feel and to see that im not alone,
with being in this love thats overwhelming.
Once I told you that we didnt have a spark,
but you were lighting up and I was sitting in the dark.
And this fire, this blaze its wrapped in desire.
Im terrified to lose you, I think I might die or,
maybe disappear from all the pieces falling out,
im going crazy but when i open my mouth, nothing comes out,
and I cant explain to you why I just need to hold you close,
why every time you leave Im scared to let you go,
why these tears are building up behind my eyes,
all I know is that the heart wants what it desires
and it desires to be your wife.
So tell me in my panic, that your words are true,
tell my my dearest what I mean to you,
tell me that this paranoia is all within my mind
we're not struggling, we're not sinking tell me we're just fine
Copyright © Jay Loveless
The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.
When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.
"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.
She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.
It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.
In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.
[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]
Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst
I wrote a letter to God and I had to ask why,
He allowed so much suffering and little people had to die?
One’s that had never caused trouble or done anybody harm,
Taken before they experienced life, plucked from their mothers arms.
He said answer me this, why did my son have to suffer and die?
Nailed to that cross I couldn’t even watch, all I could do was turn my head and cry!
What trouble did He cause, what harm did He do?
And all for what, He did it for you.
He said you couldn’t comprehend all the things that daily take place,
And all I ask is your trust till we meet face to face.
He said all things have a reason and someday you will know,
But you must trust in my word so your faith will blossom and grow.
I said Lord please forgive me if I sounded out of line,
It seems like all we ever do is complain, ask for mercy, or whine.
I know that you are busy so I guess I will close,
Thank You for listening and my love I enclose.
Copyright © Ronald Bingham
One summer eve in Galilee
I stood before my open door;
To me it seemed just one more night--
Like all the others gone before.
Someone would come and, passing by,
Would hear the tinkling of the bells,
Would see the garish harlot's robe
And painted eyes beneath my veil.
Someone, a man like all the rest--
It did not matter much to me--
A nobleman, Samaritan,
A Roman or a Pharisee,
Someone would pause and with one glance
Strip me again of maiden pride,
And leaving, later, never know
The shame and shattered dreams I hide.
O, he would think me very gay;
He would not see my hollow heart
Nor hear me curse him for his pay.
T was then I saw a band of men
Approaching down the narrow road;
There should be one among that crowd
Who wants the favors I bestow.
Kind eyes met mine, and with one look,
He saw what others could not see;
He saw the hunger of my soul,
My loneliness and misery.
I only know that since that day
I live to walk along with Him.
His look of love has changed my life;
I need not sell my love again.
Tonight He sups at Simon's house__
All day the dusty paths we roamed;
But, still he waits, unwashed, unkissed;
Small courtesies no one has shown.
My love for Him! It rolls and swells
Till from His side I cannot stay;
I'll wash His feet with tears of love
And with my hair wipe them away.
Copyright © Faye Gibson
Dear Lord Jesus, this gift of love you give to me
More precious than the breath I breathe
Flows endless as the mighty seas
Bringing countless blessings in times of need
To know that you live inside of me
May I reflect your light on all I see
I feel you always in the rising sun
And I smile through tears when rain clouds come undone!
Amazed, I watch as lightning bolts zip 'cross darkened skies
And marvel as thunder rumbles through pillars of clouds
Be it day or night constantly by my side
I’m in awe of your love; forever my guide
You gave your life for me; set me free!
Though undeserving, you pour down your loving grace
Upon mankind irrespective of belief
And call to each, 'come taste and see what it means to be free'!
When my days are done and your light I return
May it be as brilliant as when you placed it in me
Let me not return empty keeping it to myself
I pray that I give freely to light another’s path
Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick
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".
Copyright © John Streeter
Soul Seeks Its Maker
(Scent of My Soul)
Soul seeks its maker for great relief
from grave doubts in spiritual belief
Mysteries sent to tantalize the mind
journey forth the true light to find
Little voices singing in ones head
suggesting other dark paths instead
My Soul giving its answer so firm
only the light I seek can ever affirm
Scent of my Soul floating in my heart
each beat grants it a newborn start
As my heart slows for a restful sleep
my brain journeys forth into the deep
Destination unknown, course rightly set
spiritual butterflies caught in my net
Answers are given in the flapping wings
Soul given rest as beauty stirs to sing
Music springs lovingly in rhythmic time
thoughts and joys given so truly sublime
My Soul then wakes to each newborn day
with love and its spirit holding sway
Copyright © Robert Lindley
Et Portæ Inferi Non Valebit
(And the gates of hell will not prevail)
Gates of Hell shall never ever prevail
promulgation of Truth forever stands
Soul and Spirit each rings a sounding bell
Fate's ruthless results judges all the lands
Vanities of all men foolishly praised
Spirit's dark desires bearing bitter fruit
Rejection of He that was truly raised
lies and corruption are the stolen loot
Righteous hearts look to Heavenly skies
sincere prayers, deliver such bless reward
Mankind races onward using blinded eyes
to an ending very bitter and hard
In the dark shadow of this evil world
Our Creator's redemption has been hurled!
Robert J. Lindley, 10-11-2014
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Total # Words: 93
Copyright © Robert Lindley
As the waves forever kiss the shore
One shot leaves you wanting more
My heart and soul, strong and true
With all the love they hold for you
Sometimes my life leaves me bored
Like a swordsman with no sword
These are the times that I write
Memories can be hard to fight
I write out my heart and soul
Controlling my mind is my goal
Each new word released by my pen
Is another spiritual battle I win
The war rages on day by day
Through the poem prayers I pray
It's a war that I will forever win
Long as there is ink up in my pen
In prison I had quite a collection
Each one held it's own reflection
I saved them after they ran dry
Baptized with the tears I cry
I just couldn't seem to let them go
Little memories of my heart and soul
Sometimes I like to take them out
Little memories of what I'm about
What I'm about angel on my shoulder
Making this world a little less colder
Copyright © Michael Jordan
I eat upon a creaky table
and think in quiet realms,
sleep I will on some luminous cloud,
wonder where the seam of my labors
stitched what I have found;
I oft muse aloud the folly of the world,
yet dismiss the blemish of my brow,
the sin remains.....
The drear of the mystery is an old enemy
when death comes round;
I will try to smile then,
when he knocks with thunderclap,
make not fortitude a stranger,
perch life on its ruby throne;
As compared to my Creator ----
I am but a wee thing,
a wisp of smoke.....
a wave at its end come tide,
an echo in the breach of time;
The little rain-drops my eye does weep,
and sleep in moody seas,
I bleed a greater good,
if justice should have me;
to live a little longer.....
with wherewithal and ponder,
Drink thy Immortal Elixir ----
to feel love's strong arms
and bathe in its allure;
Not ails and old age ----
where strength of youth does fade,
but the sweet of aged wines ----
some wise child wild with first rays of life,
Yet, alas ----
will I try?
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt
I have a special story I wish to share
About a seamstress beautiful and fair
She would fade away turning into smoke
Of her amazing beauty, no man would joke
The spiraling smoke would then re-form
I know only an angels face could be so warm
Before her a beautiful quilt was spread
Upon it the story of my life was said
As she once again started to dissipate
She said, “Mike this quilt records your fate”
As the smoke traveled over to a new place
And then formed together creating her face
Looking over her shoulder back at me
She said, “This area will hold what has yet to be”
Most of the quilt looked like twisted evil tattoo
Simply because, my life’s quilt was quilted true
I looked the quilt over and then met her gaze
She was so beautiful in so many different ways
The last part of the quilt way over to the right
Showed the beauty of someone changing their plight
Upon her beautiful hand, which seemed so nimble
I noticed she was wearing my grandmother’s thimble
From a young maiden so beautiful to see
My grandmother appeared right in front of me
I guess up in heaven we return to our youth
My grandmother was beautiful; such is the truth
I thought of the price grandma was asked to pay
The shame of knowing I had turned out that way
I thought of her sitting there stitching my shame
My grandmother didn’t deserve an eternity of pain
She said, “Michael be still with the pain in your heart,
Your story encourages others to make a new start.”
“The deeper the wrong the stronger the right
I always knew my boy would take up the fight”
With a smile much brighter than an ice covered sea
She said, “I love the man my boy has grown up to be”
As she turned to the quilt and started to sew
She said, “Michael, its now time for you to go.”
“Believe in your story believe in your truth
For Salvation is the true fountain of youth”
One night in a dream, which I’ll hold forever divine
I learned; my Grandmother is now,” The Seamstress of Time”
When I was a boy I would help my Grandmother roll
her quilt, find her glasses, as well as, her thimble. I
never thought about how amazing her art truly was.
From a pile of rags she would make the most beautiful
quilt's. I sleep under one of her quilts to this very day.
Copyright © Michael Jordan
The Luckiest Man
I have found that not everyone is as strong
As the skies are wide and the days are long
But in life I have found there is this one
Whose bounty makes me feel as warm as the sun
And from the moment that she first caught my eye
I knew I’d be with her til’ the day that I die
That I would love and cherish her all the day through
And do all those little things we men are supposed to do
And spend my days lost in utter bliss
That I had this beautiful woman to kiss
And there’s one true fact ‘bout her being my girl
That makes me the luckiest man in the world
Copyright © James Burns
Come oh come to harvest home ye thankful!
Raise thy tongue oh throng for thy barn…so bountiful,
All grains and grace safely gathered in with ease.
For thy plenteous portion, oh praise the prince of peace.
Come ye thankful who dwells in God’s own field!
Worship Him whose wealth and wisdom we wield;
In tears and sorrows…wheat and tares together sown,
But in harvest’s hour, in joy we reap wholesome wheat alone.
To thee oh God of harvest, we thankful will come,
With harps and hymns to thy holy harvest home;
Marching with thy holy angels in the street of gold,
Gladly bowing down to thee, thou shepherd of the fold
Copyright © Adeleke Adeite
Somewhere in midnight’s nocturnal hallways
As the chill settles down with starlight
While the world stands silent in waiting
There abiding with his flock walks the shepherd
Hopeful in thought and yet weary of foot
He moves his charges through the bite of night
His hope in the coming dawn lifts his burdens
Filling his minds eye with warm musings of tomorrow
In tones they beseech the day and challenge darkness
But through this constant cycle of shine and shadow
The guardian of the flock stands steadfast and waits
The promise begins as His voice appears cherubically
Falling in fear and praying for strength of faith
The radiance in the sky softens ever slightly
Speaking of the vow and announcing the messiah
Who brings the world a love and a hope yet tasted
Tremulous breath’s as the promise is spoken
Awing the greatness with a loving and respectful fear
Silent in belief beholding the coming miracle
He stirs the somnolent flock down the slopes
To bestow upon all the gift of this divine hour
His breath brittle’s the final icy moments of dusk
He labors the trail with renewed strength of heart
Proclaiming hushed gratitude within every step
A beacon of brilliance converges in the heavens
Beckoning his faithful west toward little Bethlehem
Dropping to his knees his face wetted in thanks
Finally understanding what is gripping his soul
He sees the precarious pathway laid before him
Though he has journeyed into the unknown before
None had brought with it a promise so precious
Copyright © Charles Fuller
Revealed in that ancient place
where roses become stone and lips dry as dead bone,
the ruins of love my home, hopeless heart shown damp as sorrow known,
rubble etched with tears of deceased romance, a barren face,
my hourglass of power tilted by a hand rough as sand,
body aching for velvet confection, soul suplicant for a loving land,
age dulling the dream for a companion champion, stifling the search,
venturing daily into the world of common hazard and animal angst
standing, fighting, surviving and creating alone, an eagle with no nest,
the sky infinite in distance, sea always pushing my vessel back to fortified beach,
Unexpected like beauty in hunting eyes
you arrived in my life's arena like a veteran of volatile virtue,
speaking as if prepared to die for desire, moving with mischevious fire,
you were my vulnerable Angel, most passionate pulse with carnivorous cries,
we consoled one another when truth seemed cold and trust had narrow view,
offering me the pinnacle pleasure of a Lady's plush rush, I became the love rider,
your flesh, a sanctuary of sexual salvation, your blood, the spirit of immortal rose
Divine Intervention guided you to me, and I to you, together the meaning of love grows
Copyright © Justin Bordner
Why me dear God in heaven's
Name why me?
Awaiting for a divine answers reply.
Kneeling at the lords sacred altar,
Lit candles flickering all about her
A bowed head in reverences honor.
In prayers hands tenderly cradling her,
She has been blessed by an angel's,
Realizes not a mightier power stands,
Before her, shielding his lamb from,
Faith guides this believers soul,
Homeward unto grace.
She is truly not alone in this fight,
Rekindle a divine spark within,
Rage against the fading light,
And behold of a new dawning.
Humanities loving spirit everlasting,
Its our greatest weapon.
And many hands rest upon,
Behold the sword of hope
With it's sharpened edge.
And millions lend their strength
Of will behind it's wielding power.
We are here my friend, my sister,
Let this evil shadow pass, give it
No binding power.
Shake off fears disbelief, know,
Sister warrior on this battle field,
Women must fight together.
United standing strong,
Fixed on one single goal survival.
A pink ribbon may represent
But within life's circle the
Human touch comforts a
With faith's devotion as her
Guardian’s shield it will carry such
A brave lady,
Through hells fire and beyond.
Remember your not alone
Against our common enemy
One day we will find a cure.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn
The night lingers, yawning,
Stretching its limbs across the sky;
It lies there so silently, so languidly
As if awaiting the early rays of morning
To come by- I wake-
I wake to the sounds of silence and
Like the night, I linger in my bed.
Nothing appears to me but darkness-
Darkness that twirls a million times
‘round my head.
Upon these cold, air-conditioned tiles
I find myself walking so slowly, almost
Crawling into the darkness.
I hear my head talking- talking so loudly
Even amidst all this silence.
How am I to know- how am I to know
Whether or not this whole night is but a dream?
A mere dream so trivial that it almost wakes me
And makes me part of its darkness.
From my window I see the night-
I see it lying there, painting all other
Windows with dark threads of sleep.
I even feel my eyes getting heavier,
Something endeavors to keep
Me awake through this night.
I continue to stare outside my window
Still listening to the haze of my thoughts.
How come all that is should be? And
Why are you, you and simply not me?
It seems that this darkness is not willing
To part away from me.
A voice- a voice recites its calmness through
This night and slowly approaches my
Window. I see it- I see it coming
My way, touching
My window, stroking the
My thoughts once again begin to bellow
How come all that is should be?
And why are you, you and simply not me?
I succumb to the voice, regardless-
And deem my thoughts forgone.
On my window it slides- the voice-
Almost so artistically drawn. I stand upright,
Facing away from the night which has now
I slowly kneel down, whispering prayers to
The cold-tiled ground
And finally it comes- Dawn.
Inspired by a Al Fajr Prayer which is the Arabic for Dawn.
Copyright © farah chamma
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
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux
"Your first poem was an
excellent poem....you are
skat on my first poem.
"Wonderful and deep
poem....you are welcome
to poetry soup..." That
was Poet Destroyer.
"Wow you have touched
my heart in a special way
with your poem.....your
new friend Leonora
Galinta" said Galinta.
"Well penned" said
kithinji and so many
Hearty words from these
unique poets spurred me
to write better poems.
Which they appreciate.
Poetry soup is safe haven
where feelings and
emotions are expressed
in tangible forms.
An educational enclave
where different forms of
exchanged like two
hands washing eachother.
Am most humbled to
meet these dazzling
gems radiating warmth
like the sun-a privilege it
is connect to parts of the
I believe we all will meet
someday,not in the after
Leonora Galinta is an
angel to meet,whom I
admire amongst others.
Love to set my eyes on
her delicate and graceful
nature. See her graceful
carriage, feel her gentle
hands and smiles as she
exudes sweetness. I pray
hand of time will
backwards when that
day appears as we walk
in the woods leading to
silent deep blue sea with
whispering...... A prolific
writer as well.
PD will I meet
amiable nature,full of
grace and charm. A
Skat is lovely with her
immeasurable words of
Kithinji will I love to
behold,to learn from him.
Have drink with Robin,
Alian, shake akinyemi,
stroll with Joe, hv a hike
Sibanda, dine with Ralph
Saying hi and hugs to
Meeting the soupers is
making a happy family.
Am gliding like the
eagle,soaring higher as
the day pass by.
you soupers are my
(Baron Of Ebullion)
Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu
The soul whom the Son sets free
is free indeed,
Unlocking the rusting shackles
Allowing life’s amazing grace
to shine with His embrace,
Transformation of soul’s darkness
to light’s brightness,
The uplifting revelation of God’s
truth of freedom,
His extraordinary and infinite power
shining love every hour,
Preservation and hope for life
His love abound, no strife
How sweet the sound—
Wrapped in His embrace
Singing Amazing Grace!
17th Place Honorable Mention/Certificate
Poetry Soup's International Poetry Contest
July 1, 2007
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr
He is above us in the clouds
run through the fields and speak of thee
He will grow roses
I will be the stem of the roses
for I shall never leave your soil
You will be the tree I grow beneath
and he will be our rain.
Copyright © Andrea M Christian
As the never world awaits me,
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake
Complative thoughts well before the dawn,
I walk the morning shore,
How many have stood on these same sands,
Reflecting the echoes of those no more.
And still the waves they pound the shore,
Relentless in their quest,
As they crash on the rocks with deafly roar,
White tipped and foaming zest.
Dawn breaks with gilded cotton clouds,
Waiting like courtiers to their king.
Gathering round the sovereign sun,
Bestowing his warmth on everything.
Would that life compare to the shore,
All worries get washed away.
Cares thrown to the four winds,
As on my knees I pray
© N A Windle 2009
Copyright © nicholas windle
Mankind sees through human eyes and hearts-
that are oft times
untouched and rendered cold.
But as the Ancient of Days many foretold-
The hearts of the fathers will
be turned back to the children;
And the hearts of the children will be turned back
to the hearts of the fathers.
Copyright © WENDY MACDONALD
Because He's our Savior and King
Let's unite our voices in praise
To world proclaim all His glory
Today is time to praise the Lord.
Seek His face and you'll find His grace
Because He's our Savior and King
He's my defender and refuge
And want to serve Him forever.
My heart sing for Him many songs
My soul in Him always rejoices
Because He's our Lord and King
With Him I am never afraid.
He's with me,when I feel lonely
And just know that I'm not alone
Jesus is near,not far away
Because He's our Lord and King.
Dorian Petersen Potter
(Psalms 100:1). "Shout for Joy to the Lord,all the earth."
Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter
A true story, based on family oral tradition
from the oldest part of the city of Bern,
capitol of Switzerland, where my mother was
born and raised, in the Nydegghoff)
He lighted the candle with a quivering hand,
his overcoat seeming to weigh down the old man.
He paused in the aisle to genuflect,
and wondered if God knew his heart was a wreck.
He found a pew and got to his knees,
hands clasped together, he sent out his pleas.
He is old and he's tired, now he's alone,
his wife died last Spring, now his house wasn't home.
They'd been blessed with one son, he'd died in the war,
and now there was nothing for him to live for.
He prayed until his knee pain was great,
then sat back in the pew and tried not to shake.
The cathedral was beautiful; he loved the stained glass,
but, oh, they brought memories of Sundays past.
How could he make it through Christmas alone
in a house that was empty, no longer a home?
The kitchen was silent and cold as a tomb,
but her scent lingered on in their modest bedroom.
He said one last prayer, then rose to his feet,
genuflecting again, he went out on the street.
He walked home near blindly, not even aware
of the snow that was landing on his shoulders and hair.
He was cold inside, his heart like a stone,
and he felt completely and utterly alone.
He turned down his street, saw his porch light's glow,
and only then realized it had started to snow.
He opened his gate, thought of making some soup,
but froze in his tracks at the sight on the stoop.
On his porch sat a basket, the old wicker kind,
he thought for a moment, he was losing his mind.
Inside the basket that sat on his mat,
were three tiny kittens and one momma cat.
What a pitiful sight, so cold and so thin,
he scooped up the basket and hurried them in.
He found some canned tuna and warmed up some milk,
gently petting the babies, whose fur was like silk.
He never discovered who left those cats there,
but, as his love grew, he no longer cared.
His wife had loved cats and this comforted him,
as they slept on his head, or tucked under his chin.
The kittens grew quickly, as they're wont to do,
amused by their antics, his love grew and grew.
There was laughter and joy 'til the end of his days,
for God works, as you know, in mysterious ways.
Copyright © Danielle White
You are, And I am,
The Body of Christ, Of an earthly man,
Purchased by His sacred blood! A sinner, living in iniquity!
Pure and precious in nature A presumptuous transgressor,
True riches and infinite wisdom Of divine teachings,
Can only be found in You! Of the Father--the Greatest King!
You are the light of life And I walk in darkness
To those who believe in righteousness For I'm led to falsity and deception
As they reside in Your blessed peace! By the sweet-talking parsons of lies!
You preached the gospel, I ignored your presence
To the GEM many came to listen, For my fixation was on seen things
But few are chosen! From which I gained nothing!
You saw the emptiness in my heart I was touched by Your noble deeds
And that You gave me invitation That I accepted Your call, gladly!
To be apart of You! And later, I found the truth in You!
You are in me and I'm in You! And thru the Holy Baptism, I am redeemed!
And I became a true Christian. In one spirit, we share our firm conviction
To those who seek the long and treacherous road towards salvation!
Sharing our gifts from Heaven could change one's life, forever!
For great fortune is ours, as we make life better for others
And for them to be called into the Supreme Church!
For truly, I will abide in the Holy Scriptures,
To constantly praise and worship God,
For I am, sure and without doubt,
An offspring of His unselfish
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago