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Best Poems Written by Joanne Liaw

Below are the all-time best Joanne Liaw poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Beneath a Blanket of Snow

The land lies beneath a blanket of snow
The river is frozen and does not flow
The leaves have fallen and the trees are bare
Winter is dressed like a maiden so fair

The land lies beneath a blanket of snow
Its beauty and fairness blossom and grow
And yet there's sadness and grief in the air
Sadness is dressed like a maiden so fair

The past lies beneath a blanket of snow
It's frozen but still there, and does not flow
The past is now gone, but memories are there
The past is dressed like a maiden so fair

My heart lies beneath a blanket of snow
My tears are frozen and do not flow
My grief is silenced and my mind is bare
Sorrow is dressed like a maiden so fair

My heart lies beneath a blanket of snow
My soul is frozen but Jesus knows
He knows my sorrows and His hand is there
His hand guides me when my feelings are bare

My life lies beneath the great Tree that glows
On that Tree, my Saviour's blood streams and flows
My sins have fallen for my sins He bears
The Tree is dressed like a maiden so fair

My life lies beneath the great Throne that glows
From that Throne, the River of life flows
Jesus sits enthroned and white robes He wears
Joy is mine for in His Kingdom I share

Details | Joanne Liaw Poem

Lost In the Snow

The winter wind cuts through my bones
I pull my coat tighter 'round me
Snow pelts hard against me like stones
I'm lost in the snow around me

The winter wind howls wretchedly
Oh, how do I endure this storm?
Oh, I need someone to save me!
I'm lost in the snow of this storm

The winter wind pierces my heart
I scream in pain and clutched my chest
Snow hit hard against me like darts
I'm lost in the snow of unrest

Am I all alone in this storm?
Is there no one to rescue me?
But hope is starting to take form
I'm lost in the snow of mercy

Why should I fear the howling wind?
My Saviour tells them to be still
I know I'm wretched; I have sinned!
But my heart, with mercy, He fills

My Saviour's blood washes my sin
Until they are as white as snow
Through Christ, I'm glorious from within
His mercy like a river flows

The winter wind still cuts me deep
But Christ is my Shelter and Shield
Though darkness, around my head, creeps
In His hands, my faint heart, I yield

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Reality

Reality, a slippery soap
It's slipping from my hands
But God is helping me cope
With trials I don't understand

Reality, a slippery slope
I'm slipping as I land
But God is my strong, tight rope
I know I'm in loving hands

Details | Joanne Liaw Poem

Losing Someone Hurts

Nothing seems to erase the pain
Of losing someone you love
Memories return now and again
Come; bring your hurts to God above

Losing someone hurts; now that's true 
Death snatches him from your hands
Circumstances separate her from you
Come; place your pain in Jesus's hands

'Could I have prevented that loss?'
'If only I could turn back time...'
Come; lay your regrets at the cross
God unfolds His plans in His time

Grief leads our eyes to God's mercy
In brokenness, He comforts us
In loneliness, He keeps us company
No one knows grief better than Jesus

His disciples abandoned Him
When His enemies took Him away
The Father turned His face from Him
As He bore our sins on that Day

Cling to Christ, our loving Saviour
Though you can make no sense of grief
When you're unsure and filled with fear
Fix your gaze on Him and find relief

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Wine

It sparkles and shine
This fountain of wine
It lures me to sin
I sadly give in

It sparkles and shine
This ocean of wine
It drowns me in waves
Its reprieve I crave

It sparkles and shines
This tempestuous wine
It knows me too well
I'm drinking in hell

Details | Joanne Liaw Poem

I Can'T Pray Now

I can't pray now, but I can cry
I can't pray now, but I can weep
Tears trickle from a cloudless sky
Tears water wounds that run too deep

I can't pray now, but I can sob
I can't pray now, but I can wail
Tears trickle, then gush like a mob
Tears utter deep groans when words fail

I can't pray now, but I can rest
I can rest now in God's strong arms
Tears run dry in these endless tests
But Jesus will shield me from harm

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Withdrawal

Wide awake in bed
Feeling so afraid
For I'm at the brink
Of getting another drink

Drowning in the deep
Oh, I cannot sleep
For I'm at the brink
Of getting another drink

Depressed and downcast
How long would this last?
For I'm at the brink
Of getting another drink

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Odd Hours

The world is asleep
But I, awake
She lies in slumber deep
While I, the hours, take

The world is asleep
But I, awake
She lies in slumber deep
While I, the hours, make

The world is asleep
But I, awake
She lies in slumber deep
While I, the hours, rake

The world is asleep
But I, awake
She lies in slumber deep
While I, the hours, shake

Details | Joanne Liaw Poem

William Tyndale - An Inspiring Tale

Dedicated to my pastor, Dean Andrew Cheah

Come, hear me now as I tell you a tale
An inspiring tale of William Tyndale
A man who poured out his life to translate
God's Word from Greek, not the Latin Vulgate

He fled from country to country
Living like an unsettled refugee
He had to flee to continue God's work
From his arduous task, he did not shirk

God sent him helping hands along the way
Partners in the Gospel, to ease his day
Walsh, Monmouth, Frith, Poyntz and others
Who aided the great Bible translator

After much sweat and perspiration
He finished the English New Testament
He tried to print it, but was discovered
From Cologne, he had to flee for cover

He printed copies in Worms by God's grace
They were smuggled and spread at great pace
Those were dangerous times of persecution
Having God's Word in English was treason 

Bibles were burnt, but copies increased
God's Word brought the common people release
Sweet release from the darkness of their age
God's Truth shone brightly on each precious page

In Antwerp, he was betrayed by a friend
Imprisoned for fifteen months before his end
Vilvoorde prison was a dark, cold place
In suffering, his faith was not effaced

With a noose around his neck, he still prayed
'Lord, open the king of England's eyes,' he said
Strangled to death, then burnt as a heretic
Executed in the eyes of the public

God answered Tyndale's dying prayer
The eyes of the king were opened a year later
He encouraged the distribution
Of the English Bible to the nation

Tyndale's blood was spilled upon the pages
Of God's Word that's lasted through the ages
Do we treasure the Bible we've bought with ease?
Do we value His Word in times of peace?

God's Word was brought to us with much bloodshed
How do we respond to the verses we've read?
Are our hearts burning with unyielding passion?
Passion for the message of salvation!

Details | Joanne Liaw Poem

A Conversation In Autumn

There were silence and stillness in the autumn air
Foliage adorned the trees like fair auburn hair
The stream did not bubble; the pond had no ripples
The garden seemed uninhabited by people

But the garden was not void of good company
On a bench was seated the little girl and me
‘You look quite troubled. What could be wrong?’ I asked her
‘Is there any way I could make you feel better?’

The little girl looked at me and said, ‘I feel lost…’
‘There is a debt that comes at much too high a cost
I cannot meet the price; it is just too hefty
This unmet debt unsettles me; I feel guilty…’

‘Debt? Hefty? Guilty?’ her vague statements puzzled me
‘What you are saying to me is a mystery!
What hefty debt could come at much too high a cost?
Is it greater than the price Christ paid on the cross?’

‘I understand what you’re saying in my mind’s eye
But my heart condemns me; that I cannot deny
For Christ, my Lord, tells me to love my enemy
But I can’t show concern to the one who hurt me’

I could not find the proper words to comfort her
Guilt burned within me like hot, ignited sulfur
Since the one who hurt me is not my enemy
Why does it repulse me to show her some pity?

After some silence and reflection, I asked her:
‘My dear, have you brought this struggle to God in prayer?’
‘Prayer?’ the little girl fidgeted uneasily
‘Well, no… I can’t…’ she sighed and bowed her head sadly

‘Well, why not?’ I pressed her for a clearer answer
‘I’m afraid… Afraid to pray about this matter
I’ve locked it up in that dark, familiar closet
It is something I want to, but cannot, forget’

‘Why would unlocking the closet bring you such fear?’
‘I don’t want to go to that room… I’m happy here
I was once held captive in that dark, dreadful room
Confined in a closet where despondency loomed

What if my return holds me captive forever?
What if the closet recaptures its prisoner?
No, I will never set foot in that room again!
Dear Lord, please spare me the trauma; save me the pain!’

Lost for words, I reached out and took hold of her hands
‘Our fears and struggles, our Lord Jesus understands
Though words of prayer may fail us, He knows our frailty
Entrust our guilt to Him; our load He will carry’