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Best Poems Written by Emmanuel Dickson

Below are the all-time best Emmanuel Dickson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Sweet Memories

LIKE ONIONS THAT BUD
LIKE FLOWERS THAT BLOSSOM
SO ARE MY SWEET MEMORIES
LIKE A GLITTERING RED APPLE
AND A VOILET BLUE SKY
SO ARE MY SWEET MEMORIES
LIKE A LONG AWAITED RAIN
AND AN EARLY MORNING BLISSFUL SHINE
SO ARE MY SWEET MEMORIES...
MY PRECIOUS RUBBIES
CHERISHED PAMLS BY THE RIVERS OF WATERS
SO ARE MY SWEET MEMORIES
ABORTED IS THE SENTENCE OF DEATH
THE GIFT OF LIFE
GIVEN A SECOND CHANCE
TO TAKE A FREE LANCE GLANCE
OH YES AT NOTHING ELSE BUT,
A SO SWEET, SWEET MEMORIES.

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Live Life

Life is crazy,
and totally unpredictable...
It's going to push you over,
kick you while you're down
and hit you when you try to get back up.
Not everything can beat you.
Things are going to change you,
But you get to choose which ones you let change
you.
Listen to your heart,
Follow your dreams,
And let no one tell you what you're capable of.
Push the limits,
Bend the rules,
And enjoy every minute of it.
Laugh at everything,
Live for as long as you can.
Love all,
But trust none.
Believe in yourself,
And never lose faith in others
Settle for nothing but only the best,
And give 110% in everything you do.
Take risks,
Live on the edge,
Yet stay safe,
And cherish every moment of it.
Life is a gift,
Appreciate all the rewards,
And jump on every opportunity.
Not everyone's going to love you
But who needs them anyways.
Challenge everything,
And fight for what you believe.
Back down to nothing,
But give in to the little things in life,
After all, that is what makes you.
Forget the unnecessary,
But remember everything,
Bring it with you everywhere you go.
Learn something new,
And appreciate criticism.
Hate nothing,
But dislike what you want.
Never forget where you came from,
And always remember where you are going.
Live Life to its fullest,
And have a reason for everything,
Even if it's totally insane.
Find Your purpose in life,
and Live it!

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Screams From My Past

I SCREAM, I SHOUT IN PAIN
THE AGONY OF MY PAST LIFE TREATHENS ME
AS IF IN A TRANCE
ALL I SEE IS THE TRILLING NUISANCE
OF MY PAST LIFE SCENES.
OH MY PAST HOW PAINFUL?
SO UNDESIRABLE,THE UNLIMITED DISTRESS
LIKE CHAINS
THE RE-BONDING EFFECTS
ON MY WHOLE BODY LANES
WAS IT FOR LOVE, OR MIS-HAVES?
WHY ALL THIS?
THE MANY CRIES ALWAYS
GOING TRU TO TRUIMPH
BUT YEY A HAULTING STOP
IF NOT BUT FOR MY LIFE
IN TIMES TO COME
WILL I NEGLECT NOT 
THE SCREAMS FROM MY PAST!

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The Onions

THE ONIONS:
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time
are not worthy to be compared with the glory which
shall be revealed in us. - Romans 8:18
I was an onion before Christ set me free.
Layers upon layers of iniquity.
An ugly old onion whose fragrance was strong;
That my Jesus bought and loved all along.
Unknown to me what He was going to do.
Of what He was planning, I had not a clue.
Pulling each layer off one by one.
In order to make me more like Jesus the Son.
The first layer wasn’t so bad.
I saw all the sins that I knew I had.
They were easy to fix, just change the way I talk.
And learn more of how He wanted me to walk.
Reading His Word, and learning again;
How to put aside my life of sin.
But the next layer was pulled which hurt more.
He was getting closer to the core.
Unknown what He would find there.
I simply gave it to Him in prayer.
As another layer was removed, He started to cry;
Pulling this layer brought pain to my Father on High.
And I was crying over the sadness I felt;
The brokenness and all of the guilt.
Past memories that I thought were gone;
They were buried under layers disguised in a
fragrance so strong.
As onions peel more and more;
And they put tears in our eyes as we get close to the
core;
So my Father wept over my pain;
Giving me a balm of comfort and strength to sustain.
“No More Layers.” I would scream.
As He continued to peel them off of me.
“I’ll have nothing left my Lord, what will I do?
I’ll be nothing but a worthless core to you. ”
But He just said “Trust me,” and continued to peel
I was sure He was blinded to my pain that was so
real.
Year after year I shrunk more and more;
Until all that was left of this onion was a core.
It was then that I began to understand;
As the Lord embraced me in His loving hand.
He said, now and only now can you be;
The creation that will minister before me.
Clothed with the righteousness only from above;
Gone are your layers of self so you can be filled with
my love.
He took my layers of sin, hurt and pain;
And clothed me with love, truth and mercy in His
name.
Yes, we are all onions, learning with each day;
How to overcome as each layer is taken away.
Some layers tear and pull at our heart;
While others grieve us to our innermost part.
But we are nothing but an ugly onion without Christ.
Layers upon layers of pride, sin and strife.
Only God can take those layers away.
And clothe us with His righteousness in that final day.

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Thanks For Your Time

THANKS FOR YOUR TIME: To everything there is a
season, a time for every purpose under heaven; -
Ecclesiastes 3:1
A young man learns what’s most important in life
from the guy next door. It had been some time since
Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and
life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear
across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in
the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think
about the past and often no time to spend with his
wife and son. He was working on his future, and
nothing could stop him.
Over the phone, his mother told him, “Mr. Belser
died last night. The funeral is Wednesday.” Memories
flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he
sat quietly remembering his childhood days.
“Jack, did you hear me?”
“Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It’s been so long
since I thought of him. I’m sorry, but I honestly
thought he died years ago,” Jack said.
“Well, he didn’t forget you. Every time I saw him he’d
ask how you were doing. He’d reminisce about the
many days you spent over ‘his side of the fence’ as he
put it,” Mom told him.
“I loved that old house he lived in,” Jack said.
“You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser
stepped in to make sure you had a man’s influence in
your life,” she said.
“He’s the one who taught me carpentry,” he said. “I
wouldn’t be in this business if it weren’t for him. He
spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought
were important…Mom, I’ll be there for the funeral,”
Jack said.
As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the
next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser’s funeral was
small and uneventful. He had no children of his own,
and most of his relatives had passed away.
The night before he had to return home, Jack and his
Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one
more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for
a moment. It was like crossing over into another
dimension, a leap through space and time. The house
was exactly as he remembered. Every step held
memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture….
Jack stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong, Jack?” his Mom asked.
“The box is gone,” he said.
“What box?” Mom asked.
“There was a small gold box that he kept locked on
top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand
times what was inside. All he’d ever tell me was ‘the
thing I value most,’” Jack said.
It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly
how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He
figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.
“Now I’ll never know what was so valuable to him,”
Jack said. “I better get some sleep. I have an early
flight home, Mom.”
It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died.
Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a
note in his mailbox. “Signature required on a
package. No one at home. Please stop by the main
post office within the next three days,” the note read.
Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The
small box was old and looked like it had been mailed
a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to
read, but the return address caught his attention.
“Mr. Harold Belser” it reads. Jack took the box out to
his car and ripped open the package. There inside
was the gold box and an envelope. Jack’s hands
shook as he read the note inside.
“Upon my death, please forward this box and its
contents to Jack Bennett. It’s the thing I valued most
in my life.
A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing,
as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the
box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket
watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely
etched casing, he unlatched the cover.
Inside he found these words engraved:
“Jack, Thanks for your time!
Harold Belser.”
“The thing he valued most…was…my time.”
Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his
office and cleared his appointments for the next two
days.
“Why?” Janet, his assistant asked.
“I need some time to spend with my son,” he said.
“Oh, by the way, Janet…thanks for your time!”

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Don'T Wait Till Am Gone

Treat me with love, dignity, respect and
compassion now as I am healthy, vibrant and
alive.
Don't wait to hear that I am sick and dying to love
me the way I was meant to be loved.
Bring me flowers and candy on any day just
because...
Don't wait for a holiday, love and cherish me
every day.
Tell me I am beautiful...
See my beauty in my body and soul.
Don't wait to see that I am disfigured and then tell
me that I am beautiful...
Because you think that is what I want to hear.
Talk to me lovingly now so I can hear your
beautiful voice and listen to the ringing of your
laughter.
Don't try to talk to me that way now that I am deaf
and can no longer hear your sweet voice.
Speak words of love and compassion so I can
remember those conversations...
Even though I may not be able to hear them
again...
Come one day and you will be sad, you will be
sorry!
Treat me like a human being with a life that needs
to be lived my way...not yours!
Remember that our Creator gave you your own
life to live the way you please...
Leave me to live mine!!
I do not tell you what you should or should not
do...I just listen and give you support.
Why can't you do the same?
I am this way and you are that way...
That's because we are different...we are
unique...can't we compromise?
Bury the hatchet and move along...
Free your body, free your soul...
Let's just take the precious time we have now to
live and to love...
Everything else will slowly fall into place.
Now I am sick and dying...
You are now trying to love me, to bring me
flowers, to stroke my hair and to speak loving
words...
Why did we waste all those years, all that
time...just to be where we are now...
Now when I am too weak, too sick to enjoy your
gifts!
Love me now...
As your sister, your brother, your husband, your
wife, your niece, your nephew, your daughter,
your son...
Don't wait until it is too late!
Don't wait until I am gone...
(Its another weekend and most times it does not

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Watch What You Say

Watch Wat You Say: For we all stumble in many
things. If anyone does not stumble in word, he is a
perfect man, able also to bridle the whole body. -
James 3:2
Once an old man spread rumours that his neighbour
was a thief. As a result, the young man was arrested.
Days later the young man was proven innocent. After
being released, he sued the old man for wrongly
accusing him. In the court the old man told the
Judge: “They were just comments, didn’t harm
anyone.”
The judge told the old man: “Write all the things you
said about him on a piece of paper. Cut them up and
on the way home, throw the pieces of paper out.
Tomorrow, come back to hear the sentence.”
Next day, the judge told the old man: “Before
receiving the sentence, you will have to go out and
gather all the pieces of paper that you threw out
yesterday.”
The old man said: “I can’t do that! The wind spread
them and I won’t know where to find them.”
The judge then replied: “The same way, simple
comments may destroy the honour of a man to such
an extent that one is not able to fix it. If you can’t
speak well of someone, rather don’t say anything.”
Moral: Let’s all be masters of our mouths, so that we
won’t be slaves of our words.

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The Prayer Chair

Emmanuel Abiodun Dickson
The Prayer Chair:
“Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my end
be like his!” - Numbers 23:10
A man’s daughter had asked the local minister to
come and pray with her father. When the minister
arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head
propped up on two pillows. An empty chair sat
beside his bed. The minister assumed that the old
fellow had been informed of his visit.
“I guess you were expecting me,” he said.
“No, who are you?” said the father.
“I’m the new minister at your church,” he replied.
“When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I
was going to show up.”
“Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bedridden man. “Would
you mind closing the door?”
Puzzled, the minister shut the door. “I have never told
anyone this, not even my daughter,” said the man.
“But all of my life I have never known how to pray. At
church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer,
but it went right over my head.”
“I abandoned any attempt at prayer,” the old man
continued, “until one day about four years ago my
best friend said to me. ’Joe, prayer is just a simple
matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here is
what I suggest. Sit down in a chair; place an empty
chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the
chair. It’s not spooky because He promised, “I’ll be
with you always.” Then just speak to him and listen in
the same way you’re doing with me right now.’”
“So, I tried it and I’ve liked it so much that I do it a
couple of hours every day. I’m careful though. If my
daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she’d
either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to
the funny farm.”
The minister was deeply moved by the story and
encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey.
Then he prayed with him, anointed him with oil, and
returned to the church. Two nights later the daughter
called to tell the minister that her daddy had died
that afternoon.
“Did he die in peace?” he asked.
“Yes, when I left the house about two o’clock, he
called me over to his bedside, told me he loved me
and kissed me on the check. When I got back from
the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there
was something strange about his death. Apparently,
just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his
head on the chair beside the bed. What do you make
of that?”
The minister wiped a tear from his eye and said, “I
wish we all could go like that.”

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Nature's Voice1

HOW COOL IS THE EVE’S COLD
HOW TOUCHING IS THE BRIGHT MORNING SUN?
THE RE-ECHOING SOUNDS
OF THE MORNING BIRDS
THE FRAGRANT SMELL OF THE MORNING WOODS
A WONDERFUL DEW OF HARMON
A TELL OF GOD’S MERCY
THE ANIMALS, BIRDS, PETS 
THAT VOICE OUT
THE EXCITMENT OF NATURE’S AWESOME PRESENCE
THE MOMENTUM
EVER ROLLING CHAPTERS OF THE RIVERS AND SEA
THE THUNDEROUS AFFIRMATIONS
THE FACTS THAT NATURE TRUELY HAS A VOICE!

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What If

What if?
Oh what if?
Shall I exclaim....
What if the sky was
Of your face alone
Then will I ever look up?
What if for each tears
There was no gain
Then what need was the pain?
What if your laughter
Shakes off an aging wrinkle
Then what would be my face looks?
Wrapped up with stretch marks
What if my tears were soft and holds no grounds
Then won't that for you be pounds
What if I had not meet
With love again
Then will this be my end
What if what if?
I would always ask
For you to feel my strain
In time to come
You would sit to count
What if...all that I have exclaimed!