Home » Poems » Best » Mark Spencer » Best Mark Spencer Poems

Best Poems Written by Mark Spencer

Below are the all-time best Mark Spencer poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

1 2 3

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

The Root of All Evil

To find the root of all evil,
One hasn't far to look.
It's not some shrouded mystery,
Concealed within a book.

The truth is right before your eyes,
It hasn't been concealed.
Eliminate the branches first,
And the root is revealed.

Let's look at money, first of all;
Could it be evil's source?
It makes us do the vilest things,
Without guilt or remorse.

More blood was spilled pursuing wealth,
Than any other goal.
And for the life money provides,
Some even sell their soul.

But if it were to be removed,
Along with earthly gain,
Erased from human history,
Evil would still remain.

The same is true of war and hate,
Of vanity and pride,
Of politics and religion,
And all things that divide.

Eliminate them, one by one,
And you will understand.
They're simply branches of the tree,
But they don't make it stand.

The root that gives life to them all,
Is right in front of you;
Sustained by every breath you take,
And everything you do.

It is the root of evil's tree,
The source of our Lord's tears,
Eliminate the human race,
And evil disappears.

So if you're looking for the root,
Can you accept what's true?
The answer is a damning one,
For evil's source...is you.

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

The Dungeon

Within the dungeon’s darkest depths,
Prisoners lay dreaming,
Of families, and destinies,
And Devine redeeming.

Illusions fill their mortal eyes,
As the vision shapes them.
The dungeon is not what it seems,
And the truth escapes them.

They cannot see beyond their cage,
This place is all they know.
A deception of perception,
That claimed them long ago.

This dungeon has fulfilled their needs,
Fantasies belay them.
They are convinced by what they see,
Their senses betray them.

Reality has been explained
To their satisfaction.
What’s not perceived is not believed,
And holds no attraction. 

What they behold is all they know,
Images control them.
There’s comfort ‘neath the camouflage,
Assumptions console them.

But if they cannot see the sun,
Does that mean it’s not there?
What is concealed will be revealed,
When time is brought to bear.

And when the dungeon is no more,
Truth will not evade them.
Though prisoners will see it then;
It may not persuade them.

The truth can be a painful thing
For one who flees the light.
And so they rage within their cage,
In blindness they unite.

And they shall crumble with the dream,
Deceit will enslave them.
For if they will not leave the cage,
The truth cannot save them.

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

In a Mirror Dimly

In a mirror dimly
The image thou wilt see
Is a trick of the eye,
Which clouds reality.

Thy soul is lost inside
This specious looking glass.
Such misplaced vanity,
In time will surely pass.

For time will have its day,
And all shall feel it stir.
An affliction bereft
Of remedy or cure.

If soul lies not within
Thy woeful withered husk,
What shall remain of thee
When daylight turns to dusk?

The last sight thou wilt see,
As thine eyes meet grimly,
Is thy true reflection,
In a mirror dimly.

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

Who Stole My Piece of Chicken

I fried up a platter of chicken,
And served it fer supper last night.
The family ate all but one piece,
Which I saved for my snack tonight.

When I got to the fridge, it was empty,
What in the hell is going on???
There’s an empty carton of milk!
But my piece of chicken is gone!

Now, who stole my piece of chicken???
Someone’s got some ‘splainin’ to do!
Don’t move till I get some answers!
I think there’s a thief among you!

I wanna see everyone’s teeth!
Mama take yours outta the jar!
And Owen, for you I mean tooth.
This time, someone’s gone too far!

Last time I checked, this was my house!!
Owen, sit your chunky butt down!!!
That was MY dang piece of chicken!!
Now somebody’s runnin’ to town!

I been craving chicken all day!
Don't make me kick you out that door!!
Just get on down to the Coronal
And get me a bucket of four!

And Owen, don’t forget the biscuits!
Or your butt, I will be kickin’!
I hope you’ve learned your lesson boy!
Don’t mess with a man’s piece of chicken!!!

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

Regrets

Here I lay, awaiting my death,
Counting down to my final breath.
My mind is so full of regrets,
Overwhelmed by my many debts.

Through the years I lost touch with friends,
And the wound this caused never mends.
My best friend died six years ago.
Until last year, I didn’t know.

Lord I wish we hadn’t lost touch.
But I guess I’m asking too much.
I just wish we could turn back time,
So that I could undo this crime.

But some seeds we cannot un-sow,
With one hundred breaths left to go.
And before I get down to one,
Lord I’d so love to see my son.

He hasn’t come to visit me.
I wasn’t a good dad you see. 
I asked far too much from the boy,
My demands took away his joy.

He just wanted to have a say,
To navigate life his own way.
And isn’t that everyone’s goal,
To become our own unique soul?

Once upon a time it was mine.
But I let my dad redefine
The person I’d grow up to be,
‘Til I couldn’t recognize me.

I wish I had each of these back.
Then maybe we’d both be on track.
And perhaps before life is done,
I could say goodbye to my son.

Happiness was all my boy sought.
It’s a goal that I once forgot.
To become a clone of my dad,
I gave up the dreams that I had.

And now here I lay in this bed,
In eighty four breaths I’ll be dead.
And the trauma of my regrets
Is drenching my body in sweat.

I wish I had followed my dreams,
Sailed my vessel on different streams.
I wish I hadn’t worked so much,
Or let it cause me to lose touch,

With friends that I had long ago,
A son I never got to know.
And now I have run out of time,
With just me to blame for this crime.

And my guilt will join me in death.
I’m down to my last sixteen breaths.
I never thought I’d die this way;
All alone on my final day.

And as my last breath fills my chest,
I am still unable to rest.
For the spirit never forgets.
Death cannot erase my regrets.

What happens next, I can’t say.
You’ll see for yourself one fine day.
Death is what the journey begets.
Last breaths are no place for regrets.

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

The Prophet and the Preacher

Brother Thomas was a preacher 
Who knew the scriptures well.
He asked people to follow him, 
And he'd save them from Hell.

One night while he was working late,
A man entered the church.
Brother Tom thought He was homeless,
Or on some kind of search.

The man was welcomed to the church,
A smile lit up Tom's face.
He said, if you seek salvation,
You've come to the right place.

This temple of God is Holy,
And I minister His word.
If you put your soul in my hands,
It will soar like a bird!

Those questions you've been burdened with,
Will prove a simple task.
I hold degrees in all of this,
You only have to ask.

But the man just starred right through him,
And then began to pray.
He said, "did I hear correctly,
In what I heard you say?"

"You have called this temple ‘Holy’,
Yet only God is so.
And you say you have the answers
That lost lambs need to know."

"Those degrees you so proudly wave
Were earned in schools of man.
But the heart was our Lord's classroom,
Since man's journey began."

"You claim to know what is the truth,
While pushing God aside.
And those, with whom you disagree,
You censor or deride."

"To follow the road to Heaven
A soul must walk alone.
How can you say you know my path,
When you don't know your own?"

Brother Thomas became angry,
Demanding that He leave.
You cannot come into my house
Intending to deceive!

"As you wish" proclaimed the stranger,
"You've asked me to depart.
But don't forget what I have said,
Let it grow in your heart."

And when He turned to waved goodbye,
Tom spied the stranger's hands.
He saw the scars, and heard Him say;
"Your Father understands."

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

Love Thy Neighbor

Scripture asks us to love our neighbor.
But some think love comes without labor.
It's something we speak,
Not something we seek.
A fine cup of wine with no flavor.

Declarations of love make me laugh.
Without knowledge such words are just chaff.
You say I love you,
But that isn't true,
'Til you've traveled that ship, fore and aft.

A neighbor is a gem in a box,
Which is freely displayed without locks.
But when you decide
To not look inside,
Your love goes no deeper than the box.

It's the heart that defines who we are.
And you cannot love that from afar.
You have to dig in,
Look under the skin,
It takes patience to open that jar.

Any love less than this is a lie,
Just a superficial lullaby.
When you won't connect, 
It's sung for effect,
A performance arranged for the eye.

In God's kingdom, would this be your goal -
To have neighbors without heart or soul?
Should we love your grace,
Or only your face?
For a love without depth isn't whole.

If make believe love has sufficed,
Then your love is improperly priced.
Rewards one receives,
Show what he believes,
When such love has been offered to Christ.

For as you've loved the least of His flock,
Those empty faces there on your block,
That's how you love Him,
A name in a Hymn,
It's a church built on mud, not on rock.

So before He meets us at the gate,
Learn this lesson before it's too late.
Love's ultimate goal, 
To open the soul,
Is a truth that determines our fate.

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

My Disability

I was born with dyslexia,
And also A.D.D.
I’m not sure that you understand
What this demands of me.

You have formed your low opinion,
And judged me in your way.
Because I do not read your work,
You’ve nothing good to say.

The books I read are all on tape,
My bible’s on CD.
I rarely read the written word,
It’s difficult for me.

The words get jumbled in my mind,
So I must read again.
Sometimes I’ll read things many times,
Before I take it in.

You think I’m some pretentious jerk,
Who gets but doesn’t give.
You don’t see the adversity
With which I have to live.

I failed to graduate from school,
With all my high school chums.
My teachers never understood,
 They just thought I was dumb.

I didn’t understand the books,
Or homework they assigned.
So long before you ever judged,
My nature was defined.

This is the monkey on my back,
The cross I have to bear,
You think you have me figured out?
That’s just the devil’s snare!

You do not know the path I walk,
You don’t know ME at all!
Did God not warn that judgment’s price
Would cause your soul to fall?

Or do you think that you can sin
Because your heart believes?
That once you’re saved, you’re always saved,
For that belief deceives.

The woman that Lord Jesus found,
At adultery’s door,
Was told, as He forgave her sins,
To go and sin NO MORE.

He didn’t say, Now that you’re saved,
Salvation is assured.
For if you know what NOT to do,
You disregard His word!

If you think I’m the evil one,
Because I do not read,
Then you have been corrupted by
The devil’s prideful seed.

Your time is nearly up my friend,
The sickle will soon fall.
And it will not skip over those
Who THINK their sins are small.

I am a man afflicted by
A disability.
To think of me as something else,
Is YOUR iniquity.

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

Doctor Dangerous

I used to dream that I was
A mighty superhero,
A fantasy that helped me
Decide I’m not a zero.

But who knew,
As I grew,
I’d believe it?

And many superheroes
Have to face their nemesis.
Mine was a nasty villain
Known as Doctor Dangerous.

And he knew,
As time flew,
I would leave it.

‘Cause childhood fantasies, they
Never stay until the end.
When we become adults, we
Make believe they’re just pretend.

But dreams of superheroes
Shape how we see ourselves, and
Sometimes it gives us courage
To rise up and take a stand.

If we’re true,
To our view,
We’ll receive it.

But childhood fantasies, they
Never stay until the end.
When we become adults, we
Make believe they’re just pretend.

But doesn’t everybody
Have their Doctor Dangerous,
Who tries to stop the hero
From becoming a success?

But he’ll lose,
If you choose,
To achieve it.

I used to dream that I was
A mighty superhero,
A fantasy that helped me
Decide I’m not a zero.

And who knew,
As I grew,
I’d believe it?

Details | Mark Spencer Poem

The Ride of Israel Bissell

Yonder comes the messenger
Forging thicket and thistle;
A young postal carrier
Known as Israel Bissell.

It began in Watertown,
This bold tale of derring-do;
Bearing news of Lexington,
He would get the message through.

America’s call to arms
Was his burden to carry.
Because of its importance,
Israel did not tarry.

The lad set out that morning,
Driven like a man possessed,
To alert the colonies
Of America’s unrest.

By noon he’d reached Worchester,
Though his steed did not survive.
A fresh mount and two days more,
In New Haven he arrived.

Every town along the way,
Heard his voice sounding alarms.
Our war of independence
Has begun! To arms! To arms!

He entered New York City
For another two day ride.
Then was on to New Jersey,
Without rest, or break in stride.

On to Philadelphia,
He reached Independence Hall.
Five days would be his journey
In delivering the call.

To arms, he warned the people,
Every American son,
For the British are coming,
And the war has just begun.

So if you can remember,
When a tale, you first did hear,
Of a legendary ride
And a man named Paul Revere;

Perhaps you might consider
How a hero gains his fame.
Sometimes all it comes down to,
Is the more heroic name.

But tales will still be written,
Full of bluster and bristle.
While true heroes go unsung,
Like young Israel Bissell.

1 2 3