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Quatrain Inspiration Poems | Quatrain Poems About Inspiration

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When will periwinkle dreams entwine my lifesong
  for prickly winter has blanket me? [Long, ah! so long...]
Has bloody ferns swirl then froze me as falling snow
  for acrid critiques cold cloud? [T'was wrong, Oh so wrong...]

Doubts and worries weaken more my weary feet.
  But teeming catalysts from a passionate bearing God
    activate talent embers, once frozen, to fleet--
Spelling: "TRUST, GO AND START!", smolder revive from above.

Bearing a faith anew, I spread my wings to fly;
  walking even over blitz agonizing talk for pry.
Cracking myself from iceberg of fears--
  instead, twining myself to God's glory, a clear dear!

Braiding faith and hardwork in cornerstone steel,
  spirits afire hope that guards, a powerful seal.
Unfolding gifts from long frozen hearts' embers burn.
  mightily restored through heaven's love way turn...

August 22, 2014

***inspired by verses:
Matthew 10:26 -
Therefore do not fear them. For there is nothing covered that will not be 
revealed, and hidden that will not be known. 

2 Corinthians 4:7-11
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing
power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not
crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck
down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of
Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who
are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life 
may be revealed in our mortal body.

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Lonely Dreams

I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.

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Taps to Discovery

Taps to Discovery

“Here, I’ve bought you something
Push this and the bell will ring”
But I want a real toy
Thought that tender little boy

There it stood unwanted went
While time with proper toys was spent
Then one rainy afternoon
Into his mind there came a tune

The plasticy machiney thing
He found and made that small bell ring
He struggled with intensity
To wind the paper in you see

He turned around that yellow dial
Till the letter came in line
And thumped that single key with smile
As letters formed on paper fine

Also that day, he had found
Upon that toy like typewriter 
That words could make a lovely sound
From his mind, great inviter

Of that work he was proud
Another one he’d type ’fore long
Ran to daddy, sang out loud
“Can I have a bigger, better one”.

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The Door

Noah’s ark was real not a fiction
It had a door to escape God’s affliction
Noah delivered a warning message
But the folks mock their own presage

Men grew in sin and matured in transgression
And ignored Noah’s loving confession
The Door stood open a long time
Until time begin to climb

The Lord finally shut the Door
And the rain begin to pour
120 years of grace finally came to a halt
God administered judgment by default

The Door was a glorious type of Christ
He was the Lamb of God who was price
Jesus said “I am the Door of the sheep”
He is the only Door of that Great ship

Jesus is our Door of salvation
Wherein we enter and float as new creation
Behold He stands at your door this day and knock
Let Him in, you’ll find pasture as a partaker of His Holy flock

Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep- John 10:7

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What Nine Plagues Could not Do

Israel had been under tyrant oppression
God sent Moses to redeem them from suppression
He promised to manifest His sign and wonder
And extend His Finger of Power over Nut, the god of thunder

Nile was like a sea of blood on the first day of the plague
The magicians were dumbfounded and vague
Nile hitherto served as Egypt National cake
Became ravaged as millions of creatures died in the lake

On day two, God brought frogs from Nile
They died and stink along the foe’s mile
Thus, Jeshurun judged Heqet of earth
The frog goddess of birth

On the third day God administered judgment on Zet
The ‘mighty’ and the dreadful, he was the god of the dessert
Magicians marveled at the miracle of Moses’ rod
And declared to Pharaoh, “This is the Finger of God”

On the fifth day God judged the goddess Hathor
She was the spirit of cattle, a violent author
He slays her cattle and plagued them with boil
Amidst it all Pharaoh’s heart was harden like a golf ball

On the seventh day, God plagued Egypt with Hail
The sky goddess Nut was attacked and jail
In all these Israel was not affected
He was miraculously covered and protected

On the ninth day Egypt was clothed in a cloak of darkness
Nevertheless Pharaoh’s heart was still heartless
But the home of the righteous was as a nimbus of radiant light
As the glory of the Lord has risen upon their plight 

God judged Isis the ‘Protector’ as the first fruits were killed  
 In this plague was the scripture fulfilled
They overcame him (Isis) by the blood of the lamb
And by the steadfast confession of faith in ‘I AM”

Satan is a destroyer and a ‘blackmailer’
But Christ is our redeemer and our healer
What the nine plagues couldn’t do
The blood of the Lamb gave a clue

By faith he (Moses) kept the Passover and the sprinkling of the blood, lest he who destroyed the firstborn should touch them. Hebrew 11:28

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Struggles and success, Sufferings and happiness, Dreams and Goals building to life; Like colours of the rainbow making light.
A blessed day for you my dear readers :) Cheer Up, God bless

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Solar Eclipse

There's something I feel that I still haven't said,
Quotes that haven't straddled my lips.
When poetry wheels don't turn in my head,
Words can cast a solar eclipse.

©2012 Honestly JT

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The Break Of A New Day

It's another North Carolina morning,
Just before I see the sun rise.
To lighter blue the sky is turning,
And nature wakes opening her eyes.

©2013 Honestly JT

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A LEGACY SPAN Daily my precious gift my one and only life A life which someday may run old and dry Everytime it's prick with knife and strife A continuous battle flaming how or why A day to be with family then bond A whole day sharing time with friends A day to roam, reminisce the land A Church day to praise and transcend Sometimes, I will meet and kiss rainfall However, I shall stand ~ try understand Over heartaches and a jar painful I wear my gear and take full command Each Day, I will first stir the urge To anyone needing some time I will share opting not to splurge To love and care my finest rhyme A passing day will forever gone My life sparks with Master plan All things that's done and undone My dusts dispels a legacy span _____________________________________________ (c) olive_eloisa 3:44pm January 12, 2014

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We will cherish these moments
Because they are few,
But please always remember
I will always love you.

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One More Step

Every day I climb some stairs
A few steps here and few more there;
One by one until I’ve found
The destination where I’m bound. 

Some days my steps are small and sure
Never less and never more; 
Always ground in gravity’s grace
Never questioning my own place. 

But other times while in the dark
I stumble looking for my mark; 
While moving upwards, homeward bound
Not knowing what might soon be found. 

And so I move each day I live
Praying for one more step to give;
Myself another view of life
And chance to see the stars at night. 

One more step to the rooftop high
Where all good climbers reach and strive;
For one more sunrise, one more set
And all I ask is one more step. 

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A Forever Smile

No matter what you're going through
It only lasts a while
Only one thing lasts forever
That's your beautiful smile

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Only The Poet Knows

Unheard are the melodies
playing only for the composer
his fingers to the piano keys
sending the music to your ears.

The scene exists in his mind
only for an artist's vision
then inspiration you will find
when he applies paint to canvas.

I hear the words inside of me
which your ears are unable to
yet, you will see what I see
when I put it on the page.

Written by: Kelly Deschler  motif: philosophical

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Beautiful, Glorious Day

Run, run, run and give it all up!
Into His arms, commend your love!
Through Him, you are saved!
What a beautiful, glorious day!

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Not The Same Without You

It's not the same without you;
The days are rainy and the nights are blue.
My heart is crying and God is too,
But we are smiling, waiting here for you.

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(3 May 2014;  For my son Steven, an ACCOMPLISHED guitarist)

Real musicianship can truly drive you nuts—
There really are no “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts”.
Practice, study, memorize, then more practice--
Is this just an obsession or complete madness?

Learning chord inversions, arpeggios, and scales
Is like reaching Heaven by crossing through seven Hells.
It wouldn’t be bad if there were only a dozen majors,
But there’s also those other dozen minors.

What’s worse, it seems we’re never finished
Because there’s also augmented and diminished,
The major/minor/augmented/dominant sevenths.
And symmetrical double-flatted diminished sevenths,

And if this harmonic mess is not enough,
All those dissonant Jazz chords get really tough…
Such as the sustained seconds and fourths,
The sevenths add nines, sixths, blah-blah-blah, elevenths.

And if learning all this isn’t already extraordinary,
There’s music theory and music vocabulary.
Instead of just saying “get louder”, you have to “crescendo”,
Or for “fast” or “slow” you say “allegro” or “lento”.

Then there are names like Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, 
Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, and Locrian.
(All being modes derived from scale C-major,
Plus each major scale also has a relative minor)

Multiple pattern exercises on guitar fretboards
Are even worse than finger drills on piano keyboards.
Worse, the string tuning on a six-string acoustic guitar
Is not quite the same as on a 4/5/6/7-string bass guitar.

It’s hard to get up on stage and routinely play
That same song, for the umpteenth time, in an inspiring way.
No wonder musicians seem to all suffer manic-depression,
From trying to play a full sets with unique expression.

All the advances in music equipment and technology
Bless and curse musicians like two-edged swords, you see,
Because all this work they do to sound like a maestro or genius
Can be counterfeited on a computer by a musical ignoramus.

But computer geeks won’t ever find that special place,
That fugue-like subtle sacred state of grace,
Which for brief moments is like deep meditation.
No, that’s the forbidden domain of the real musician.

To suggest that musicians all are just “gifted” naturally,
Is the absolute superlative worst insulting irony.
Truly, real musicianship can drive you nuts—
No, there really are no “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts”.

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Wheels Rollin'

1 o'clock in the morning the alarm is loudly screamin'
I go wake up my brother who probably is still dreamin'
We jump in the car and the wheels start rollin'
Can't wait to pick up the papers and start strollin'

A smile planted on our face! The day is finally starting
The headlights shine bright! The animals are darting
Ah! Windows down breathing all the fresh air
My brother gathering papers with all of his care

Wheels steadily rollin down the road
Nothing is in sight, not even a toad!
Newspapers start soaring through the air!
Do I want this to end? No! I wouldn't dare

Starting to run out of papers as the sun is rising
Listening to the birds chirping is quite energizing!
I look over towards my brother to see if he is still awake 
Bless his heart! He has fallen to sleep, he really needed a break!

I throw the last paper and I began to yawn
The paper lands perfectly on that last lawn
Wheels rollin' as we head back to the beginning
Should this much fun be considered sinning?

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Just Let the Poet Be

Don't ask too many questions
Don't try too hard to see
It's literary license
And that's how it should be

Don't go and form opinions
'bout what the poem means
Divorce poet from poem
It's better far, it seems

Once the rhyme is written
It has a life it's own
Don't delve into the heart now
Don't look for what's not shown

Just love the words and nuance
The passion that's in each line
Unless you have permission
To snoop is just not fine

I say this to all poets
But I say it most to me
I'd save a heap of trouble
If I just let the poet be.

Eileen Manassian

I worry sometimes that people will ask too many questions about my personal life from having read a poem. You just have to let the poem speak for itself. Believe me....this advice comes FIRST to me. I tend to wonder about inspiration as well. If we do one is going to want to write. Thanks, y'all!

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They call her a daydreamer 
with eyes that sparkle like stars;
Her wishes, flecks of glitter,
enticing, she'll  steal your heart

Light floods, glowing her desire,
Illuminating the  path;
A compass points to inspire,
staring back, she's a photograph

They call her a daydreamer 
that smile will magnetize; 
One glance causes quite a leer
Her ideas hypnotize.

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The Robbery

Rob me of my purity,
But once again it's all my fault;
Fell into the trap of false promises
Because I pressed play instead of pause.

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The Heart Of The Ocean

You pick me up and fly me away;
Oh my baby, what a beautiful day!
Like a rock, you are strong to withstand the motion,
And your love runs deep, the heart of the ocean.

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A Glimpse of Heaven

This poem is a description of a glimpse of what I saw in Heaven.  Heaven is a reality.

There’s a glorious place called heaven
A place so imperial, a haven
A sight that is indescribable
A home that is incomparable

An elegance of design
A beauty, forever shine
The crowning of architecture
The dumb foundness of structure

Is the work of the Mastercraftman
Jesus Christ, the saviour of man
He designed it and built it
As the home of just spirit

The roof so exquisitely glazed
A kind to admire and be dazed
A glittering floor of jasper stone
A work that awestruck to the bone

A mansion walls of sapphire
A moment of an eye catching fire
The stairway sparkled like clear glass
An intricate pattern of class

As I gaze in amazement before me
I was enveloped in joy, peace and glee
The fragrance in the room ravished my heart
Overwhelmed with awe, I never wanted to depart

The Poet Preacher © 2014

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Snowflakes Floating

Snowflakes floating from the sky twirling, then settling down, they're in a race with each other to see which one first, hits the ground. Copyright © Cynthia Jones Feb.13/2013 It's starting to snow and this is a little something, I just came up with.

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The Pen

The pen's a sword for carving poems.
A wand for measuring beats.
A whip to keep the rhythm
and a stick to tap the tweets.

It's silent to the ear-drums
when heard inside the head.
Words firmer than my chin bone
in notes from what seems dead.

It points to things I question
and scribbles errors I make.
And when it writes some new stuff
forgives me my mistake.

At rest upon my paper
it signals that I'm done.
And when I go to grab it
I'll click it just for fun.

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Thirty eight years has gone by
Songs as old as baby's lullaby
Still the two  leather boxes has survive
When she open with her key... to my surprise!

There... greeting cards, flowers and letters
White papers before... now brown colored
Flowers earlier fresh red... now wilted but preserved
Spotless written words ahead... now little blotted

She said they are priceless and timeless
Though, some laughed and said corny and useless
Yet, from any gold or silver to her its invaluable 
For by these her distant love became possible

As this the testimony of her love
...Embroidered and made perfect by God
Her one and only true love
...No other than - my great dad.

(c) Olive Eloisa
2:00 AM
APRIL 11, 2014
Contest Name:	Antiques 
Sponsor:	Black Eyed Susan
5th Place.. Praise God! :)
________________________my most endearing mom.. :) thank GOD.. :)

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Like naughty kids return to mother’s love  -
One moment without it they are in desperate sway;
Like divers finding air is good to breathe above  -
If we forget, it doesn’t mean it goes away.

In our soul’s darkness we seek something
Which already surrounds, is always rock steady.
God is everywhere, permeates our being -
How could God not be here already?

We seek not God, but the way out of our darkness 
To find again that God is loving kindness. 

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Goodnight, My Love

My head’s upon my pillow Still light enough to see How lucky I truly am By the face in front of me She doesn’t even know it As shadows bless her face I will follow her anywhere At any time, to anyplace She’s my feather in the wind The floating guide before my eyes I’ll follow her forever Wherever she so flies My inspiration and my muse She’s a feather from a dove My one and only forever She’s my one and only love Her silence, there, is beauty Her scent, of angel’s breath I’m enslaved to all she is My strength, there’s nothing left I am weakened sure and like it If it means to share her life As my eyes close on my pillow Good night my love, my wife She’s my feather in the wind The floating guide before my eyes I’ll follow her forever Wherever she so flies My inspiration and my muse She’s a feather from a dove My one and only forever She’s my one and only love

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The Clerk

I've shown my work to others
who rate it for themselves.
The feeble simply love it.
The intricate act like elves.

The wise man gets behind it
encouraging me to write.
It's only when the humble;
thank me that it's right.

My works in many countries.
Each nation reading from it.
Trading new ideas
when words to thoughts become it.

It has a narrow following.
Yet; larger than did once.
I wonder what is popular.
I wonder if I'm dunce.

I know I'm getting better.
I think I like my work.
I envy what I've written.
Like someone elses clerk.

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A Brain Freezer

Two days have gone by and no new poems What's happening to this silly old geezer Am I having one of those damn writer's blocks Those famous deadly brain freezers Surely there's a bunch more stuff inside It just isn't making itself known Usually I'm a very patient old son of a gun Hope this old mind hasn't blown All those poems I had stored up for months Getting near the end of the pile Kinda frightened like a little kid, I am My reputation's gonna be defiled Think I'll lie down for a couple of days To let my old bean-o recharge Then I'll be back to my prolific old self Sure feel like an absolute retard They say it can happen to the best of us guys Thought I was above all that stuff So much for that “holier that thou” attitude You guy's have seen through my bluff © Jack Ellison 2013

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To the East

I set my gaze to the east each morn’
To the east to meet the sun
I chase the light of day each day
‘til a new day has begun

Awake, indomitable soul within
No fear will grace this brow
But, tears and sweat; unwavering pride
My head held high, unbowed

No caste to tell me who I am
Nor, who I am to be
Fate will never hold me bound
I live because I’m free

Free to try and to succeed
Free to struggle through
To tread all failures under foot
And start each day anew

Patience is my soul mate
Perseverance, my close kin
Tomorrow is ever before my eyes
Just waiting to begin

So, I gaze to the East each morn
To the East to meet the sun
I chase the light of day each day
‘til a new day has begun

A new day has begun

            ~Christopher Thor Britt

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For No One But Me

For no one but me.

Autumn leaves fall from a tree,
Ordinary people never inquired,
But, from my view I do see,
And instantly I'm inspired.

For no one but me.

Roses seem to bloom out,
Only when I am around,
There is absolutely no doubt,
Poetry is a talent I've found.

For no one but me.

Snowflakes twinkle as they fall,
They're gently blown over and under,
Most people don't care at all,
I watch them with awe and wonder.

For no one but me.

The moon shines at it's brightest,
Only when I draw near,
I don't mind in the slightest,
Because poetry calms my fear.

For no one but me.

I see this world in a different light,
When it shows it's beauty to me,
I sit with paper and pen to write,
Of the shimmering deep blue sea.

For no one but me.

Instead of using canvas and paint,
I describe color with black and white,
And I wait until daylight grows faint,
As stars draw me toward endless night.

For no one but me.

Because I am a poet,
What I am able to see,
Only another would know it,
This is what I'm meant to be.

For no one but me.

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We don't want our love ones to hue and cry
Thus, Everytime we contrive to survive
From the inside out, We must give the eye
Because... one hard word to say is goodbye

2:15 AM

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Speak anger to my soul;
Let your emotion go.
Come, take control,
So blood with ink will flow.

©2014 Honestly JT

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A friend once asked, “What is Love?”

And one replied Love is like an exquisite red rose flower                                                   

In a romantic, elegance, lovely shady bower

Been hooked by a gentle sexy dove


“What is Love?” he asked again

A pretty looking lady smiled and replied

Love is a magical feeling between a groom and a bride

It is the current that flows through my heart and brain


“What is Love? I want to know”

Finally, a handsome looking guy smiled and said

Love is when the heart, mind and soul are Fed

With one’s emotions and makes one’s star glow


So I asked, what is Love?

Some say Love is patience and kind

But I say Love is blind and can put you in a bind

Love I say can ignorantly give one a shove


Some say Love does not envy

Some say love does not boast

But I say Love is what others need the most

Love can actually make people go crazy


I have found out that Love is not a feeling

And that Love is trusting and caring

But Love can be a bit over bearing

And true Love when unwrapped brings divine healing


Some say “Adam and Eve created Love

Romeo and Juliet made Love

Sampson and Delilah betrayed Love

And Julius Ceaser died for Love”


The Love I found is a Love like no other

It was not the Love of Adam and Eve

Neither was it the Love of Sampson, who was deceive

Nor was it the Love between a sister and a brother


The Love I found was shed on old rugged cross

It was offered to you and me

He came into my life as a light so I can see

To sum it all up, “J-E-S-U-S is my Chili Sauce”

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Like a fiery vengeance
Grasped in open hand
Cuts the loathed foe
Stains your own land

Hate surges like flood
Shatters the weak soul
Spilling the divine blood
Of both sides involved

Anger drives men crazy
Like a tropical storm
Loss are assessed lately
When started to mourn

Forgiveness is not easy
And not for everyone
Don’t wait until query
What have I done?

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The Sacrificial Lamb

Dependable Defender Jesus Christ of Nazareth Football Club

This morning lost His appeal for the red card He received

During His side game with the highly rated Pharisees

He’ll therefore be unavailable for their match against the Sadducees

He was sent off by referee Pontius Pilate

For a massacre on Principalities and Powers

The Club failed to have the decision overturned by the Jurisdiction

He is therefore sentenced to death by crucifixion

The ‘Special One’ is to make no comment on the decision

After Herod Disciplinary Committee dismissed the club’s appeal

Jesus has offered Himself as a sacrificial lamb for a collective guilt

On the club’s recent sloppiness and wilt

The stalwart defender’s Penalty

Will begin with a physical torture

Followed by carrying a heavy rugged cross

Is the Disciplinary Committee right? Make your gloss


Lucas writes, March 28th…2:17

A typical Herod Decision!

I think the decision needs a Revision!

 Chris writes, March 28th….2:19

Oh! JC What a wish!

One rule for the rich!

One rule for the poor!

Herod is a force majeure!

Sir Billy writes, March 28th….3:15

Corrupt official! Corrupt leader

All they care is 30 pieces of silver

Major Buckley writes, March 28th…3:17



Janet writes, March 28th…..4:17

Oh NO! This looks like a JOKE!

Oh my God what a YOKE!

Wolf writes, March 28th….5:15

The blame must lay with McCarthy and McCoy

Surely it’s their fault not Jesus. Sorry boy!

Frank writes,March 28th….. 6:17

You’re an idiot’s wolf!

This Jesus should go play golf!

Crucify Him sir! Crucify Him! I rest my case

Melvin writes, March 28th…7:17

I think they can’t rescind many of the red cards

Because it would highlights the refs as nothing but land guards

Leave your comments in the box below:

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A Pebble in the Shoe

Kevin and friends went sightseeing
His friends lengthened their walking stride
Kevin couldn’t keep up, his pace wasn’t agreeing
It looks like his legs were securely tied

The Lad stumbled in his walk
Twirling his legs with many intricate movements
Suddenly he took a temporary block
To check if there could be an improvements

Turning and casting his eyes around
On any one watching his funny walk
Kevin briskly went down
Upon what he saw he was perturbed and shock

Just a little tiny stone
Thwart his stalwart move and slight swagger
And kept him dangling all alone
And like a drunken fellow he stagger

Kevin went sightseeing with a pebble in the shoe
Tiny as it was it affected his ability to walk and run
Hilariously! He wore a distinct pair of socks, one black! One blue!
Awful! Kevin didn’t have much fun

Having Sin conscience in your life
Is like having a Pebble in your shoe
Get rid of the Pebble! And Christ ends your strife
To find rest point to the Cross, and he’ll see you through

Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water-Hebrew 10:22

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Rising From The Ashes

The wear and tear of my past experience
has ravaged my spirit, body and soul
Now my life is a mere shallow existence
with a deep longing to be made whole

I was caught in the beauty of your charm
and savouring its full pleasure was my goal
Now I experience a deep sense of alarm
at the loss of my feeling of control

But with my own inner resolve and firmness
and the strength I can get from other avenues
I must overcome this sense of helplessness
and move on to live my life as I choose

The phoenix bird burns itself to ashes
whenever it becomes worn out with age
And from those ashes a new phoenix arises
and starts a fresh life cycle on a new page

Scorched and burned by my actions of the past
and having learned from the anguish and pain 
I also will rise from those ashes at last
and move on afresh with my own life again

(To those dealing with addiction – drugs, alcohol, etc., 
and also a broken heart)

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To Have A Piece Of You

Some say that you are lovely 
          In my mind I say it's true. 
Others would want you to be their princess 
          And I think they're serious too. 

One would say the pride she has 
          For a daughter that you are. 
A father's dream won't want you on a horse-back 
          But in someone's luxurious car. 

Strangers are bewildered 
          For your smile they see so rare; 
A Casanova has his antics 
        That only you he cares. 

The rich would want to take you 
          To a high-end restaurant; 
Or even will entice you 
          An adventure to Rio Grand. 

A new friend  makes it  sure to shake your hand 
          Or take your picture too; 
But all I have is a furtive glance 
          To have a piece of you. 

   Date & Time of Writing: 
   November 3, 2011 
   10:33am - 10:51am 

Just feeling lonesome and nothing to do and needing someone 
to communicate yet hesitant to send a text message.  All 
I've got to do is to fill in the mind with something to put into 
writing.  Then I got these verses of which the reader may perceive 
a "low-profiled character" or simply "an effortless desire"..

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Come Up Higher

I write of a dream
Out of the body, alive in the spirit
It begin on a slipping bare field
Intriguingly, there is nothing to shield

A feeling of fear run through me
As the enemy approaches
A mass of fearful thoughts
As the foe runs across

Running, racing, gasping for breath
Climbing steeper slopes
Running endless races
Racing to dreadful places

For one glorious moment
It dawned on me I can fly
I can fly on wings of Angels?
Even on wings of archangels?

Then comes a voice…Echoing
Come on fly!...Come up higher!
In awe! My feet was high above the ground
This left the enemy confound

I begin to soar and to glide like an Eagle
High up am safe and secure!
High up I can reach for the stars!
High up I can reach for the mars!!

And they heard a loud voice from heaven saying to them, “Come Up Here [Higher]”. And they ascended to heaven in a cloud, and their enemies saw them [no more]. Revelation 11:12

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From Hurt To Healing

When others hurt you verbally
and the arrows pierce your heart,
do not act in anger,
nor toss your fire-filled darts.

Pause instead and take a breath,
and let God's Spirit in.
Respond in love, then turn away,
and don't let Satan win.

Each time your suffer
in the name of the Lord,
be comforted in knowing
He has your reward.

He'll bind up your wounds.
He'll give you strength for the day,
when you trust in His Word,
and walk in His way.

Remember God's promise:
"I will never leave you,
nor forsake you."( Heb. 13:5)

God's healing balm is always there,
when you turn to Him in faith and prayer.


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Beyond Fences

If the course of my life was determined
By every choice that I make,
It just might suffice to be wary
Of whatever path that I take.
I already know that great power
Has brought many great men to fall.
Would it be wise then to find peace
While not having power at all?

If the joys in my life were dependent
On what side of the fence that I stand,
Maybe I should just leave the fields
And find for myself a new land.
For I know that direction is blessing;
It is wise to stay on the slow track,
And shooters will target the chief men
While sparing the slaves in the back.

Beyond the fences is where I stand
Beyond the reach of human hands.

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Poetry Is My Lady

(Inspired by my dear friend, Carol Eastman) Poetry is my lady She claims my heart and soul Dear Cathie is my faithful muse Without her, words don't roll Sit here blankly staring At a screen devoid of words Unable to write a single stanza Till Cathie's subtle urge Now can't keep typing fast enough My creative tap's turned on Try so hard not to break the spell As Lady Poetry sings her song Sit here amazed as my fingers fly And words do finally appear Magically streaming across the screen Driven by my muse so dear As much as I take full credit For the verse I lay before you I'm aided greatly by dearest Cathie My adorable muse so true © Jack Ellison 2014

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Debussy Inspiration

Debussy Inspiration

I advanced from piano player to pianist
When I finally memorized Claire De Lune.
Since then I’ve migrated to a rhythm guitarist,
But I could never escape that flowing tune.

I played Debussy’s song so often without the sheets
That over time it evolved to something else.
A few different notes or off-rhythmic beats;
So that an expert would patently find it false.

I eventually learned to play more difficult songs:
Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini,
And many of Scott Joplin’s syncopated ragtime songs;
But Debussy’s Claire De Lune still remains a part of me.


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I'm close to a breakthrough
that's why I'm gonna give it my all
I'm close to a breakthrough 
won't stop til I make it

No one on this earth is gonna stop me 
from reaching my breakthrough
I'm so close I can fell it within me
I'm so close I can fell it within me

YEAH, my breakthrough is on the way 
so I'll just have to hold on
until it arrives
but I won't stop until I get my breakthrough

(This is my first quatrain so tell me what you think)

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Broken Eggs

Humpty Dumpty cracked my eggs
Theses pristine solid becomes a liquid mess
With The yellow fat yolk jostling wet
In a bowl like a squabble comic pair yet unset

Humpty Dumpty left my eggs broken
As delicate as a fetus whirling for life
Helpless at birth yet destined to live
Wrapped in the womb and silent as such

Broken Eggs shatters the hope of life 
Yet a hope to save another; may be from hunger
I found it utterly pleasing and truly, very yummy
Perfect in beauty in sauce like my honey mummy

Humpty Dumpty cracked my eggs, yet
Daddy spiced my broken eggs into an omelet
He turned those broken eggs into a jellyroll
And poured it in a golden bounteous-bowl

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Under Construction

In New York City at Ground Zero
The World Trade Centre Tower once stood
After its grim aftermath destruction
The illustrious tower is under construction

To minimize future structural failures and other catastrophes
The new tower is design and constructed
To be earthquake, fire and wind resistance
As wind pressure increase with height distance

There have been slight changes made to the original
It is reinforced to resist compression and tension
Engineer MacGray is so far thrilled
As they are a step closer seeing the mission fulfilled

A Christian is a structure under construction
We are under a divine construction of the Holy Spirit
God is at work in you to shape and to remove your imperfections
According to that Mighty Glorious Power of His resurrection

Your life may be of no rhyme or reason
The Master Engineer is at work to bring balance, symmetry and order
He is reinforcing His ideas for a spiritual transformation
The Holy Spirit is empowering His new creation

The structure is not built in a single day
Neither is His Divine Masterpiece
So as the Master Designer hammer and chisel your wall with affliction
Though painful, remain silence for you’re under a divine construction

For the House when under construction was built of stone prepared at the quarry so that no hammer or chisel [noise] was heard in the temple while it was being built [1kings6:7]; for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure [Phil 2:13]

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Searching for Inspiration

I feel as if the whole world is just but a dream
Floating lifelessly amid the chaos it would seem 
and I wonder for a thousand times when will it gleam 
of laughter, of inspiration, as is deemed

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Melody Rules

The eastern horizon striped red and blue
A crispness lingers from the night's cool
Early morn, shrubs and grass sprinkles with dew
A Mockingbird's clear notes' melody rules

A single loud cricket chirps a chorus
There is a peaceful feel to the porch's scene
No sirens, bombs, wars, causing a loud fuss
There is a time and quiet to softly dream

If only man's internal being's peace
Matched the scene of early morn's repose 
Life as a whole from wars would then cease
More symphonies from man would be composed 

Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest: Not Just Any Old Quatrain
Written: July 09-10, 2014

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Glimpse of Light

Glimpse of Light

When sorrow and pain set in,
And storms came all of a sudden
Surely a glimpse of light rays
Because Jesus is on our way!

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A screen demanding input
My fingers over keys
My mind a blank canvas
Mocking, taunting me
I wonder what has happened
For nothing comes to mind
Maybe it's the curse
Of the mystery we call time
I sigh and give a tap
A letter on the screen
Then another, and another
As I slowly unfurl my wings
Inner gears working madly
The world, I tune it out
I close my eyes briefly
As my fingers dance about
I imagine it in my brain
A slash and then a stroke
A once blank and dull canvas
It with my touch awoke
And as I paint it in my mind
I give a final tap
I shut my laptop with a smile
Declaring "It's a wrap".

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Brand new life

Brand new life

Life it can be sad or sweet
The secret lies in you
If in every day you meet
Each moment as brand new

Then you will your life transform
Your mind it will be still
A brand new you, it will be born
How wonderful you’ll feel

Take a look so deep within
You’ll find the secret there
For just beneath the ugly din
You’re free from every care

Then joy will take on over you
You’ll bubble deep within
And everything will feel brand new
Let the melody begin

Forget the future and the past
For these just phantoms be
Then you shall have a brand new life
Brim filled with mystery

6 July 2014 @ 1505hrs.

Written for Kelly's 'Not any old Quatrain'

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Apocalyptic Muse

By: Liam Wilson

Deep she lurks within me
My craft she does infuse
The dreadful siren’s call
Apocalyptic Muse

Rises with the Autumn
With torpor slumber blues
And bade me record her dreams
My scribing at her cues

Her words my hands do write
Subtleties of abuse
Captured at her whim
And held there through her ruse

Embraced by her presence
To love her as a wife
Humbly bow before her
Adjoining in her strife

She whispers in my ear
Evoking what I use
In clear defining prose
Without a need for clues

Frenetically I work
And when she’s done I’m through
Fades back into torpor
And gives me what I’m due

I’ve found my place again
While Earth it changes hues
She’s scarred my soul once more
Apocalyptic Muse. 

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I Only Want To Give You

I only want to give you
everything you have.
that if you're rich with money
then more would serve to salve.

and if you're poor; not privy
that money would mean more
Your soul would still need comfort
and I would keep from horror.

If you should be successful
A spirit flinging wild
To smile upon your vessel
would serve your inner child.

But if you be a failure
to waste in peoples eyes
I'd turn my head away
while you would learn to rise.

and if you seem the happy
I'd long for us to meet
For me just being lucky
is friends come out to greet.

But if you seem unhappy
You're spirit going dim
Then I will share discomfort
in words leading to him.

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under the Sal tree
lies a meditation unambitious
a certain implausibility
of death and life and all auspicious

am i disciple - or more - or less
the mind thirsts a life to slake
proceeding forward - or to regress
then sleep and mindfully be awake

© Goode Guy 2013-07-24

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Poem: The Manger Is Still Empty

Long ago, a Savior was born
and hidden within a humble birth;
covered with the cloak of humanity,
His presence impacted this earth.

Although we remember His birthday,
know that Christ is no longer a child;
He stopped being an infant, who was…
helpless, quiet, tender and mild.

He grew in strength and wisdom;
He demonstrated His holy authority;
He lived as He divinely taught;
He set the example, for you and me.

He gave of Himself completely
and paid the ultimate sacrifice.
He embodied God’s covenant of love;
His actions were timely and precise.

After suffering the shame of crucifixion,
He was briefly buried in a rock-hewn tomb;
three days later, He triumphantly exited
with a glorified body from Resurrection’s womb.

Today He lives and sovereignly rules;
so people of faith, it’s time to agree
that we must continue to live Godly lives,
seeing that… the manger is still empty!

Author Notes

Loosely based on: 
Matt 1:18-2:15, 27:46-54; Acts 2:22-24; Heb 7:25; 
1 John 2:1-2; Rom 8:34 

Learn more about me and my poetry at: 

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved. 

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you can write a billion lines
you can play a million songs
you can film ten-thousand hours
and never right a single wrong

you can feed a ravenous crowd
biscuits with salmon to replete
overflowing cornucopias endowed
and fill silos brimming with wheat

you can sole the bruised up feet
and clothe the bare-backed persons
warm their cupped hands and faces
never able to lighten their burden

you aim to rework humanities place
more caring now than indifferent 
so that all souls can truly embrace
but, that may not be nature's intent

hardship may in discrete analysis
be core, even to the cells of us
diversity of adversities in synopsis
her permanent grand plan nonetheless

so here's an observation for you to see
dream your dreams and make your plans
to initially carve into nature's tree
but soulfully will to restep your stance

what you think she's thinking is best
most likely ain't what's there to find
point is, that no one can truly guess
designed intents of nature's mastermind

© Goode Guy 2013-06-24

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The Inspiration Store

I'm looking for some inspiration
Can you direct me to the Inspiration Store?
Heard they've got some real good bargains
Great ideas never used before!

I don't often need to avail myself
Of this vital and humanitarian service
Been quite prolific in the last few years
But now I'm feeling a wee bit nervous!

It's five minutes before the midnight bell
I've come up dry all the day long
Utter panic has grabbed hold of my brain
Thinking suicide would be wrong!

There's other things besides poetry I'm told
On this great big old happy balloon
But none so addictive as rhyming and rhythm
It turns sane people into silly buffoons!

The Inspiration Store has saved many people
From utter and overwhelming despair
So I guess I'll do a search on Google Maps
Before I totally lose all my hair!

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ol' news

ol' news

and on the strife rages
across the heated lands
a blog papered main stage
bombs & beheaded are planned

victims and vicissitudes 
captured on handy-cam phone
talking heads with platitudes
of thugs, their cover blown

pride in mankind runs to core
to prefer right over happiness
so slaughters settle some score
ignoring acts magnanimous

always wars and rumors of 
to accuse and chide and blame
no cheek turned, if only for love
and long for change still remains

is Darwin's theory still alive?
can mankind evolve into kindness
or will only the weaponized survive
will civility fall from our blindness

pray if that's your provenance
act if your actions can better
our behavior has its consequence
let good life be our treasure

© GoodGuySoul 2014-11-20

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Pity Party of One -or- I Never Got His Name

Last Saturday, I took an empty seat 
on a park bench, with book in hand.
Feeling sorry for myself, I failed-
to notice others on this public land.

Disillusioned with life’s loneliness,
my heart and face both wore sad frowns.
From my perspective, this world was…
insistent on dragging my weary soul down.

While my inner sadness wasn’t enough,
to completely complement my pitiful day,
I was approached by a breathless boy,
who had taken time to rest from his play.

With unexpected exuberance, he spoke
to me, with his head oddly, tilted down,
as he shared an unwanted gift with me-
"Look at this flower, I’ve just found!"

Though all of its petals were badly worn,
I could tell, it had been a supple rose;
my spirit, desired only misery’s company
and not his presence of disheveled clothes.

I hoped that he would take his treasure 
and leave- in search of solitary play;
so I imitated my finest, insincere smile
and intentionally shifted my gaze away.

Instead of retreating, he sat beside me.
“My flower is scented and beautiful too;
thanks for being my newest friend today,
for I picked this, especially for you.”

Patiently waiting, with tiny hands extended,
he presented the remnant of his dead weed;
I knew I had to take it, to induce his leave-
so I sarcastically replied "Just what I need."

Without an explanation, he held it mid-air;
then I finally noticed, for the first time,
that this happy, gift-toting child was blind
and I’m left more speechless than a boxed mime.

Thanking him with a repentant, quivering voice,
my streaming tears shone brightly like the sun;
while I managed to express some real gratitude,
I acknowledged that he had chosen the “best one”.

Unaware of the powerful impact that he had on me,
he smiled and joyfully slid down off our bench;
then he wandered off, as quickly as he could-
with a second, dead rose that he lovingly clenched.

So I was stunned, wondering how he managed to see
this woman drowning in her self-indulgent plight.
Through his blindness, I saw that the problem was me;
by his heart action, he blessed me with true sight.

From this moment, I vow to change and see beauty
in life and appreciate every second that's mine.
Therefore, I’ve decided to move forward with purpose,
for I can’t allow my fragile heart to remain blind.

And even now, I’m becoming emotionally overwhelmed
with this unexpected flood of tear-filled shame.
In retrospect, my manners were severely lacking: 
for I neglected to ask- this earth-angel… his name.

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what was meant

to start, eviscerating her muse
cut her up and analyze her
throw her heart into tea leaves
meat her mind and so dissect her

her depth is unfathomable
enigmatic as an ancient nation
was she down in the consumables
drinking deep the Muses libation

entrails lain out in between
what came into her head
what she inspires, what she means
how good is she in bed

what was meant of point of view
each to glean from field of meaning
seeds of inspiration equal to
what was meant and what was seeming


to start, eviscerating his muse
cut him up and analyze him
throw his heart into tea leaves
meat his mind and so dissect him

his depth is unfathomable
enigmatic as an ancient nation
was he down in the consumables
drinking deep the Muses libation

entrails lain out in between
what came into his head
what he inspires, what he means
how good is he in bed

what was meant of point of view
each to glean from field of meaning
seeds of inspiration equal to
what was meant and what was seeming

© Goode Guy 2011-10-03

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Glass- Continous Rhyme Quatrain

I'm looking through the glass window
Window of my soul 
Soul is breaking 
Breaking into pieces

Pieces that can not be fixed
Fixing this is impossible
Impossible because of my sins
Sins that I have to atone for

For I have done terrible things
Things like forget to clean my glass window
Window of my soul 
Soul is breaking 
Breaking into pieces.

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Poem: Spiritual Upgrade

Something great is happening for me,
regardless of the situations I see;
my Lord is working behind the scene
and I have been spiritually weaned.

Walking by faith and not by sight,
insures that I sleep well at night.
Happily I enter daily into His rest,
knowing that I’m divinely blessed.

I’m often filled with peace and joy,
when sacred Scriptures are employed;
with a heart of a believer’s trust,
I overcome the pain of being concussed

in all aspects of my humble existence.
Despite hardship, I’m going the distance.
Elevating faith with a spiritual upgrade,
I pray with confidence- having been swayed

by the absolute Truth of God’s holy Word.
With a poetic voice, my soul is spurred
to write Christian verses unto my Lord,
as His strength, from my spirit is poured. 


Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Mark 9:23; Acts 16:31; Jam 2:23;
Rom 15:13; Heb 4:3; John 11:40

Learn more about me and my poetry at:

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.


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We are too far from our praying
when we should seek out his face.
We are too long, deep in mourning
when the heart should feel God's grace.

We are too long keeping silent
when the voice inside says, 'why?'
We are too long sitting dormant
when the body cries out, 'try.'

We are too soon apt to follow 
when we should go forth and lead.
We too often say, 'tomorrow,'
when it's now that people need.

We are too soon prone to argue 
when to whisper winds the day.
We are too slow to the rescue
when a child is in the fray.

We are too soon shedding tears
when each prayer is answered, friend.
We are too long slaves to fears 
when the soul is quick to mend.

We too often think of having,
and forget where need is great.
We too often hear those hurting,
and should be there to relate.

We are too slow being contrite
when our knees is where we pray.
We too often beg to see light
when God's here to lead our way.

We often act so selfish
when we need to do what's right.
When we learn what's best to cherish
we will always stand upright.