Seagulls and Saints of Emmaus
David J Walker
I see Seagulls and Saints
And icy sills of Window’s
Restraints of blurred realities
And unaccompanied Complaints
But clearly every pray ends
In amends and Amens
And incitant constraints
I see syllables in Sawgrass
A syllabus of things passed
Down in hands of hand me down
Phases and phrases
Of false praise promises of
Devine Salutations extended to
The someone just behind me
I see sunsets and bad bets
In this and that complications of
Unfinished pages of equivocations
On the road to Emmaus,
(about seven miles from Jerusalem)
“Stay with us” we plead
for it is nearly evening and the day is almost done.”
So he went and broke bread
And then fled as their eyes opened.
And That’s when I saw
Seagulls and Saints
Dining in fields
of locust and wild honey
River Bends
Is it fate's sordid trick?
Or did all reason just fall sick
Maybe it's not all we hoped for
We wanted so much more
Was it strange, that we two dreamed?
No it couldn't be, having never seemed
It lifted us up, that we didn't pretend
Like the Sun rise, it will never end
It carried us high into the light
And raging far into the night
Yet in the river's bend I found
The current's strong, pulling me down
Swim hard if you wish to turn around
For this we must do, or drown
Let us remain to dream a while longer, for here on the other each depends
And we all need support where the river bends
Together we can stay forever, forevermore with many Amens
Because no one needs to be alone when the river bends
The train of thought is powerful albeit quite unclear
In it's untrue faithfulness the conductor often will not steer
That becomes the issue off the rails life jumps tracks
Head twisted in all the metal of those false but shiny facts
Focus turns into a continual adjustment of it's own lens
A never-ending cry of help to God the unholy evil of amens
Ravaged mind so desperate in everything to contemplate
Run away is now the train as a passenger you stand to wait
Its Sunday
By David J Walker
It’s Sunday and my uncle smells of
Cheap Avon colon that comes in a
Smoked glass automobile bottle
Bought from his sister-in-law
He is wearing his best suit
His only suit
His Sunday go to meeting suit
My Aunt dresses in her best dress
Not her only dress but the special dress
Purchased years ago from a store
That is no longer there on the Square
It’s Sunday and
The regular pew at the
Jackson Avenue Baptist church
Is waiting
With approved
Ringside seats for the saved
It’s Sunday and the house smells of
Crisp fried chicken and baked pies that
My Aunt has been working on all morning
There will be creamy mashed potatoes
With gravy
Black-eyed peas with okra
Hot rolls sent down from heaven covered
In sweet cream butter
But there will be nothing
Before Grace is said
As the Amens come to an end
By early afternoon
It’s Sunday and Those of us
from the farms
would know
How Sundays go unchallenged
so,
can
we hear
loud "amens"
for righteous judgment,
standing for fairness and justice,
for the dignity of men, women, and their children
no matter what race, creed, gender, or nationality, for all people everywhere?
Written on April 6, 2021
Pontius privateers
pray on saintly alterlings
Avici Amens.
Upright and gracious is He
Loving as love can be
We say our "Amens"
With calmness within
And worship His presence indeed.
We bow before His face
And reverence His holy place
Our faces aground
His glory around
We're lost in the love of His grace.
In spite of our hearts full of sin
And the old man that rises within
He still sends His love
From heaven above
And cleanses our hearts from within.
With wisdom and power He reigns
While the earth travails in pains
To bring forth the One
The glorious Son
Who will conquer this world for our gains.
In life it seems like I'm always taken one step forward and 2 steps back .
I'm trying so hard to do the good deed and stay on the right track .
All these obstacles keep coming my way so at night I drop to my knees and I start to pray .
Dear God help me stay focused and remain humble.
Lead me to the right path even when I fumble .
For you are the one who can cleanse my sins take care of my family and watch over my friends.. thank you god sincerely Sean with 1000 Amens.
Now I walk with my chest out and my chin tall, for no more obstacles will make me fall, don't worry about what anybody says and never stop believing be thankful and proud of the goals im achieving .For I am the one who controls the fate of my destiny .
Is life supposed to be like this ?or is God just testing me?
HEAVENS DREAM. It is said they do.
Every celestial body sighs within days and truth.
All have had heavenly experiences in their youth.
They dream of you in EMERALD bliss on golden shores.
As waves of ocean go sliding forth.
They dream of me and you, they beam.
They dream of us plus they discuss the plush
Surroundings RESOUNDING through all the halls
Of buoyant ETERNITY IN PRECIOUS hopes that
It will be this way until until we refill the
Contents of our hearts with
FEVERISH JUVENILE JUBILEE .
Until until we call the name of every single
Blinding star and CONTAGIOUS joy reaches me
With glorious speed.
Shine lights on heaven's bed.
Dare to know where stars have birthed and wed.
Where heavenly spirits have been said to tread
They send QUIET AMENS.
Never embraced
My affections are never sensed by you
My emotions are never cared by you
I waited and waited till dawn to dusk
But this way are never coursed by you
This forlorn devotion is never beheld by you
I revered to God till dawn to dusk
albeit these amens are never listened by you
My feelings are busted in the atmosphere
My tears fitted moisture in the atmosphere
But these are never embraced by you
these drops are never churned by you
my craving is lost somewhere in the air
but this air is never breathed by you
Oh! beloved please listen do not let me moan
additionally please affirm me, you
my convictions are always distrusted by you
my anticipations are always offended by you
There was a winsome writer named Andie
who wrote poetry really Jim Dandy
with pencil or pen
she'd write her amens
For our Andie was truly not randy.
9/19/1948
Piles of human arms and sloppy heads laid
On food-trays of half-eaten buns with cold tea
Magazines, milk bottles, and jackets
Passed us by in a whisk of infinity;
You never once moved but peacefully slept
Just this night----
Amidst the chill of a bus-filled moment.
In deep amens, I hold your face for a while
But time beckons military hours, grating;
I write you a letter of love that never questions
As courage greets me again on enemy zones.
I stay a bit longer even while duty calls
Shall I leave you once more
After a lit embrace seemingly endless?
My only gesture is to let you know of my fidelity
And you rest while I slowly walk out the bus door.
Tell me, who is the better person?
Henry W.
Contest...Brief, Unforgettable Moment
Date Nov 25, 2013
CAUGHT IN THE SIGHTS
like Bambi caught in the sights of a hunter's gun
life sometimes ain't any phun
like never gaining permission to be what you want to be
life can often leave you less than feeling free
like the nine to five can often be a burden
life often curses you one to hide behind a curtain
and of all these things i am very certain
like a master with a whip ordering you what to do
life can often seem like a disorganized zoo
like walking through a desert can leave you with an unquenchable thirst
life can make you come in last instead of first
and so one feels thus to be caustically cursed
like so many wasted amens go unheard by the lord
and remorse causes only vengeance and discord
like life often makes you wish the dr. had never cut the cord
life can often leave one disenchanted and bored
but one must perservere
the way Bambi ambles through the woods with fear
and suffers what he thinks he cannont bear
and so i tell you dear on this paricular day
i must leave you now without an adieu or delay
(c) 2012 ......PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Set beneath Melchizedek
Within Priesthood coupled hands
A truth instilled in stillness
As the work He magnifies in ends
Shaded eyes among a reverence
In brethren lowered heads
Phrases softened forth become
A song in dove's love descent
Upon a broken heart
To a quiet spirit 'trite
I Am, The Christ
Which originates the light
A blessing given is recieved
To this child of heaven's host
Amidst amens, a friend is newly made
In the gift of the Holy Ghost
By Michael G. Smith ©2012
Asked if they believed in the Hereafter
Amens echoed from every rafter
The preacher rejoiced
Then this plea he voiced
"Fill up the collection plate hereafter!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Related Poems