When Christians gather in the church
their hearts the Holy Spirit search,
to see if they have faithful been,
or merely show up to be seen.
And as the Holy Spirit moves
He convicts hearts, and sin reproves
Causing some saints to loudly sob
While others head just gently bob.
When with clear eyes, deep truths are seen
Sin is confessed, and hearts are clean
The Spirit stirs up sobs of joy
The kind that is without alloy.
Sometimes the sobs express the cares
a suffering saint in silence bears,
then when the altar call is made
the tear drops flow with no charade.
Sobs in the sanctuary are good,
they reveal what’s under the hood.
And as the Holy Spirit moves
Mere pretense His power removes.
Lord, let the sobs in torrents flow,
Your healing power, let it show.
So that when your saints leave the church
They’ll be on a celestial perch.
Some say
The heart's too tender,
Therefore easily bruised
And long to heal – because
The heart has tendency to
Overly feel…
Some say human love’s too fragile;
Too easy to chip and ruse -- take
For granted, and selfishly abuse --
Say welcome to The Metallic Age!
Electronic Brains and alloy skin --
Conscious soul no longer needed
With an App your day will begin –
No need for spirit correction, robots
Will bear all sin. AI this and AI that,
AI dog and AI cat – an AI baseball
An AI bat – instead of change the baby
Keep him or her cool and dust free --
If a mistake made, the AI’s will calmly
disagree…. Right. Good luck with that.
I took your ring to a gemologist today,
Shiny with spilt crystal rainbows,
Weathered by life’s hardships.
He took one look at it
And then at me,
Incredulous, he said ‘this is of no value’.
And though it held no value for him,
I told him that it was precious to me.
It was ‘just’ a glass ring underlaid with coloured foil,
A mesmerising prism that I touched with my childhood fingers.
You were a big precious stone,
With no precious stone to call your own.
Sand and alloy forged together and worn on
a hand that bathed me,
Hand that fed me,
Hand that held me,
Hand that nurtured me.
Your presence is in this beautiful,
simple ring.
An eternal symbol of your piety,
simplicity, courage and love.
And now it circles my finger,
As a reminder of what life is really about.
It is my connection with you,
Across space and time.
He's on thin ice mr starmer... With some heavy
Vice today, and yesterdays real recordings
Some might start flying his way.? So come whatever may.' Fire and ice are hard on metal.' However far he bends it? Or how
Many lies he could employ.? For he's more
Like a cheap alloy..' his limit well past now
We might exclaim oh boy.'
The Saviour Jesus in our place died
Breaking the horrible sin tide.
Then the Father God resurrected Him for fruit to bare
Of hope erasing every care.
So now we share victory over fear
His love wiping away every tear.
Like Gardens and the Great-Outdoors
His forgiveness and grace out-pours
He becomes our Sun
And like children, brings us fun.
Breath in His Spirit-Air
He is your "Perfect-Pair!"
Jesus brings us healing, Eternal and deep
In the Holy Spirit our lives to keep.
Into our hearts they come
With feelings light instead of the weight of a ton
He conquers with Joy
In pure Love and no alloy.
He is Sovereign and King
Not forcing but Lord of everything.
The Spirit-Cure
Nothing can deter.
Sweet Jesus Saves.
Every storms He braves.
To come always and forever,
Heart-to-heart together.
So listen to the gentle Spirit-Sounds
Some like waves, on rock it pounds.
You're never alone, though He is quiet.
Your inner-virtue-candle's lit.
With one touch;
The sacrifice is never "Too much!"
So, believe and pass it on
It surely leaves a song.
Shower Love on all.
Answer "The Call!"
Long, wide, vast, high, dreadfully deep protective walls
Battlements, ramparts, bulwarks, and tower folders
Living quarters, arrow slits, gatehouses, and halls
Monstrous walls built as though with steel-alloy boulders
Water-filled deep massive moats to obstruct the foes
Bastions and merlons within majestic meadows
Forts and castles are mysteries of histories.
They are focal themes of bewildering stories.
Some folks believe, "All things are true."
And darkness can alloy with light
Though sun arise, and skies shine blue
Some folks believe, "All things are true."
To Logos thence they bid adieu
Let now with good the bad unite
Some folks believe, "All things are true."
And darkness can alloy with light
Win gold
be bold
Long run
such fun
High jump
speed bump
Grand prize
all eyes
Close race
in chase
Drab match
I catch
Ground stroke
no joke
Tiebreak
heartache
Foot fault
must halt
Forehand
so grand
Deuce court
report
Drop shot
on spot
Backspin
just in
Closed stance
advance
First serve
hold nerve
All out
no doubt
Arm ball
your call
Back foot
well put
Feet sore
crowd roar
Pit stop
right flop
Air jacks
not lax
Catch fence
immense
Choose cone
in zone
Downforce
of course
Dry line
sounds fine
Black dot
so what
Box-kick
smart flick
Breakdown
don’t frown
Eight-man
staunch fan
Fend-off
not half
Fly half
big laugh
Five-eight
high rate
Foul play
no way
Free kick
quite slick
Full-back
don’t slack
Knock-on
now gone
Loose head
instead
Pop pass
first class
Red card
off guard
Set piece
they tease
Shoeing
booing
Touch judge
won’t budge
Midcourt
retort
High clear
hear hear
Backstroke
awoke
Duck-Dill
instil
Frontcrawl
your call
Grab start
look smart
Pull Buoy
alloy
Swim Down
don’t clown
So, is it good or bad?
Excessive is sad!
For Senior Citizens or Tiny-Tots
The emotions are lots!
To be happy and controlled
One must let the thoughts be paroled
By the sweet and peaceful joy;
Pure thankfulness with no alloy.
Nostalgic gratitude is seeing the "gold,"
Letting fantasy go can make one bold.
So focus on all the positive,
Not letting time's fire be a sieve
But just let it purify.
Add appreciation, even if you cry,
The tears are of healing Love
And help us look Above.
Smile and let Nostalgia carry away stress
Burdens and regrets of today's mess!
Puppets
All Associates of
the National Puppet (walking puppets only) of
Wales leak and
alloy of
mercury with
iron down
crooked paths.
Consider how the lilies grow,
they do not toil, nor do they sew
yet still the beauty of their bloom
dwarfs that of cloth from any loom.
The perfection their petals show
belies the muck in which they grow.
They shine like stars in the darkest night,
in scenes that would sicken our sight.
The One who makes the lilies grow
is someone we should get to know,
for only He can make us glow
as we wend our way through life’s flow.
Be not anxious, and do not fret
over the things that are not yet.
The God who makes the lilies bloom
can meet your needs from His storeroom.
On lilies petals, God has penned
a message of His will to lend,
His aid to those who in Him trust
as creatures whom He made from dust.
The beauty of created things
shows the glory that God’s throne rings.
The God who made them for our joy
gives pleasures pure without alloy.
The laws that guide the stars in flight
rule petals opening to light.
The brightness of the lilies’ white
Shows God’s character is all right.
The circumstances of your birth,
do not determine your self-worth.
God put His image within you
so, His beauty can shine through.
Am I light or dispersed star
Scatter or straight to all earthly uneven
Whether the stray comet to unfollow
Chaos or chord to sundry upheavals
Mortal cry pebbles the enshrined path
Luminious moon guide where gleam
Wise that turn to sightless wanderer
Eternal furnace alloy even those flak
Whip of whims encage all beacons
Noble deeds dacay ,utterly numb
Trying our morale in turbulence of time
Comforts or clutter of needs ,indefinite
Men walk towards golden or grey gates
Surrender in mounting rungs and ropes
Dreams shatters like lifeless dunes
Homeless sands beneath benevolent sun
Arrays of aim pierce like pungent arrows
Win or wane for fit to survive in moor world
Featherless souls in sheer free fall;
Can there be ceaseless outbound fountain?
That fearless and frisk in favors
Solo my spirit sway all silos earth bring
Let mind sleeps sight on alpine snow
The genial breeze to free and glow
Altar the heart with care to unrest
Torch of mankind ablaze with brave
Holy human share blessings that unbent
Wish the nourishing rain to furtile and flow
Generous greats render and row.
They sifted through the red soil of the years,
Plucking at roots where the great forebears sleep;
Not merely dust, but salt from ancient tears,
In vaults where Oghene’s secrets buried deep,
They sought the tongue of the Urhobos.
The mother-tongue—a Vwre of vibrant gold,
That bound the Uvwie and the Okpe soul—
Now lies beneath the damp, colonial mold,
A broken Ivri, losing its control,
In Ughelli’s mist, oppressive, gray and cold.
A desperate hunt for Edoid embers lost,
By Inuivwi clinging to a fading grace;
They seek to mend the spirit, tempest-tossed,
And find the value of their rightful place,
But find a landscape utter double crossed
For in the throat where udi used to flow,
A jagged, coarse Pidgin now is spun;
The Emotes of the market-square, we know,
Have taught the children’s lips to skip and run
From the very gods that made the delta grow.
This coarse alloy, this Oibo-shadowed chime,
Has choked the wells where elders’ wisdom brewed;
The tongue of kings is smothered in the slime
Of vulgar slang and metaphors endued
With nothing but the wreckage of our time.
Antimony Foolishness
Age 51 is often when one’s unable,
To buy the status quo, it’s old and needs mending.
New sports car, how youthful! Refuting the label,
Of premature old age, gray hair pending.
Girl friends need to be added to the stable,
Young women, their company lending,
Immortal aura when sharing their bar table.
What invokes “against aloneness”, or “befriending”?
You’ll find a word “antimonos” in Greek fable.
The element Antimony, #51, is alloy tending,
By emulating its properties, “Romeo” is enabled.
By experimenting with the valence one’s sending,
Reactions occur, some of which may be stable,
But it’s hard to tell if another is bonding or pretending,
Especially, to induce attraction, one increases spending.
Remember to study and use the Periodic Table,
It prolongs youth, the illusion of vitality never ending.
© Chaim Wilson
Each day I exclaim,
display my satisfaction.
Have I found a solution
to my prickly problem?
Or have I found that rather nice town?
It's in California - right there,
on the arm of the Pacific.
A lovely place to be.
I might come across a wonderful alloy
made of copper and nickel.
It has a high electrical resistance,
and is quite cool. So cool.
Do I exclaim in order to praise
a town that's so good to be in,
a piece of metal that's so, so cool?
Ah, it is so. Eureka! Eureka! Eureka!
(24 Aug 2023)
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