The Voice that spoke into being
Before the world began
Everything we see around us
He spoke them into being
The stars, the moon, the sun that shines
Birds and beasts of every kind
Created at the sound of His Voice.
The Voice that said one day
“Let us make man”
In Our image, in Our own likeness
The Voice that angels fear and love to hear
The very Voice that calmed the storm
And healed the sick, the blind, the lame
Was silent before an angry crowd.
Yes! He was silent for our sake
The spotless Lamb
Scarified, crucified
By the cruelty of man.
Creator of this universe
His silence broke the chains, the curse
As powerful as His Voice that spoke
Was His silence, that shook all hell and earth.
He was wounded for our transgressions
He was bruised for our iniquities
He was willing to be silent
To buy our salvation and healing!
When asked to go against your grain
Will you cross a river while flooded
Will you climb a tree in a thunderstorm
Walk over live electric wires
Go outside during a tornado
Only true love crosses picket lines
Faces down an angry crowd
Forces open a window to save their love
Save me love as I am walking on the wild waves of uncertainty just for you
Be my life raft
Be my solid shore
My sand to the sailor
My land to the lost
Be my breakfast when hungry
and my hat under the scorching sun
Be my hand when I fall down and my cake when it isn't even my birthday
Be my sunrise on an over cast day
You are to me the most precious thing
A laugh when I am sad
I want to heal all of it for you
Eclipse all other past loves
I want to be your Mars when you think you can't live on this planet anymore
I love you and I hope you find in me a quasar bright enough
to outshine the stars you live among
We are so close
Don't give up now
If I was a puffy cloud
Flowing on a stream
I would douse an angry crowd
Blowing off my steam
If it made my mother proud
Knowing of my scheme.
"Bite Size Poem No19" Poetry Contest
I am the one building my house upon the sand.
I am the one blind and leading the blind.
I am the one rich and exceedingly sorrowful.
I am the one making a vow I will not fulfill.
I am the one unable to cast the first stone.
I am the one bringing the head of John the Baptist.
I am the one selling my wares in the Temple.
I am the one giving the kiss of betrayal.
I am the one bearing false witness, spitting in His face.
I am the one with the angry crowd crying, "Crucify Him!"
I am the one standing at the foot of the cross.
I am the one almost persuaded.
What a dreadful experience must be
For the one who peace in his heart hasn't found
When he withdraws into himself some calm to get
Confronts instead an angry crowd!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
18 April 2021
An angry crowd was seething as Jesus hung on a crude cross,
Shouting in triumph as if being rid of their albatross,
Condemning the one who came to save all from the curse of sin,
Yelling with rage, “Crucify Him”, over and over again.
Why? What was their rationale?
Why was heaven aloof to the yells of the blaspheming throng?
Jesus screamed out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken me”,
It’s as though the Father turned His back on His dying Son,
As the blood of Jesus ran from His wounded head, side, and feet.
Why? How could such silence be?
The hostile crowd scoffed as a crown of thorns mocked His dignity,
Not understanding they were killing the very Son of God,
They stripped Him of clothing; brought shame to His humanity,
Humiliated, He breathed his last before the lynch mob.
Why? What had all the ire gained?
At last, as His blood flowed to the hallowed ground of Calvary,
The earth rocked and shared the pain that few seemed to feel,
The Innocent had died for the guilty, those with sin’s malady,
Marks for all time and eternity, before this One all will kneel.
Why? Because Jesus loves us!
EVERY TIME
Every time I hear the gospel story, every time I hear how Jesus died,
How He left His throne in glory to be crucified;
Every time I hear how He was punished by the angry crowd who watched Him die,
I cannot control my feelings, I just want to cry.
I know that He had the power to call out for all the angels up above,
Yet He had come for this hour to show us His boundless mercy and His love.
Every time I hear that death He conquered when He rose triumphant from the grave,
It gives me a new assurance that I have been saved.
Every time I think of how I wandered in a way so full of awful sin,
I’m so glad I found salvation when I let Christ in.
Many times I think of when I doubted, then I think about the day I came;
I lift up my hands to heaven and I praise His name.
Now I know He has the power to forgive me and to cleanse me from my sin,
And every day, every hour I can feel His Spirit living there within.
Every time I think of heaven’s mansions and the friends I know I’m going to see,
It fills me with joy and gladness to know there I’ll be.
These words written to “Everybody Loves Somebody.”
Go India , Go Back
..................................
My three-year old son
Is chanting the slogan 'Go India Go Back!',--
Seeing the crowd protesting in the street .
(His articulation is a melody to ears you know!)
While I sit inside
In the meadowy silence of my room--scared ,
His mother runs upstairs
And they are watching the angry crowd
Through the windowpanes.
For them it is fun!
While I wonder what's going on...?
Every time, i recall the history
And curse the ignorant Mughals;
And dream of a morning:
India and Pakistan call their armies back.
And that monster-border is dead.
Today the humblest and kindest men are few,
surprisingly the proudest ones also knew
that without their faith they were condemned and lost,
but reading the Bible they learned not to boast.
Behind the boldest human spirit which God redeemed,
one sees that soldier wearing the victorious shield;
he is not afraid to fight men and demons,
even Jesus fought them with very wise words.
Who doubts the writings inspired by God?
Were the Prophets those villains who shouted?
Didn't Jesus stop the angry crowd throwing stones?
Didn't He show them how gracious is forgiveness?
Can we imitate the boldest human spirit and stay meek?
Which thing do we despise the most: being strong or remain weak?
Never think you're better or more special than another;
if we have love, we can build a world that's loving and fair.
Written on 5/6/2017
protected I sit alone
lacking the comfort of love
no one to soothe my isolation
surviving an angry crowd
i want to scream out loud
where is my equal
someone strong in spirit
able to find love under the pain
pain from slights of countless people
love not gone
just covered up tight
out in the open
what others see
not the real me
pain that has a life of it's own
taking my laughter
eating away at my joy
leaving me protected and alone
Becky Jo Gibson
History has often shown, that with acumen,
the sword pales in comparison to a Poet’s pen!
It cuts, not as does the sword forged from steel,
but with a piercing words, a conscience can feel!
With subterfuge and sweetness, it can hide
the acrimonious jealousy that may reside
within the soul of a scurrilous deviant poet.
Chances are, being well disguised, few know it!
A poet’s words can lull a fretful babe to sleep,
or move a Nation to mourn and weep.
Whilst those who seek ill deeds to conceal,
will discover his words will oft reveal
the bribery and corruption they’d committed.
Poetic licence, with words carefully submitted,
awards a poet the freedom, no sword is allowed,
as he subtlety sets out to sway an angry crowd.
The pen, oft proves a deadly weapon indeed.
Expertly wielded, a tender heart can bleed,
but used with reckless abandon? Of it beware,
for this deadly weapon, is beyond compare!
Rhymer. November 12th, 2016.
Imagine yourself as a raindrop
Sharing space in a cloud
Will I be part of a morning shower
Or the member of an angry crowd
Will I fall to earth on a gentle breeze
Or ride the currents of a storm
Will I be cool or refreshing
or steamy muggy and warm
Will I bounce upon some rooftop
Or touch the leaf of a tree
Rising along a storm surged tide
Seeking some way to be free
Will I kiss the petals of a daisy
And glisten in the sun
Or fall into a lazy pond
That has no where to run
Will I gently touch the soft brown earth
Searching to find my roots
Attach myself to a passerby
Who is wearing rubber boots
Will I find myself in a glass
as part of a lemonade
Or settled in a sheltered ditch
As a puddle in the shade
A raindrop's life is ongoing
Like the angels tears Caressing the earth
Rising once again into the sky
Clouds symbolize rebirth
Just imagine it for a moment
And think of the rainbow in flight
A raindrop divided into colors
Bathed in heavenly light
Master and Lord, born of such a lowly birth,
You came and lived a human life on earth.
Loved by some, hated by others,
Opposed and doubted by Your own brothers.
Ridiculed and mocked by those You adored,
Despised and rejected - Your words, they ignored.
In agony, You prayed, "Not My will, but Thine."
Soldiers came and took You, by God's design.
Rulers judged You - found You guilty of a crime,
In fury, the angry crowd screamed, "He must die!"
So they beat You, tortured You and called You names,
Eager for blood, they caused You great shame.
Nailed to the cross, for all to see,
You suffered, bled and died for me.
In anguish, Your Father turned away His face,
No tomb of Your own, buried in a rich man's place.
Dutiful friends came to mourn their loss,
Every fear they had was soon given pause.
Emmanuel - God is with us - alive forevermore.
Death has lost it's victory. The grave stings no more.
Just a man like you and me,
When he hung on the dogwood tree,
Feelings of pain,I know he felt,
When a blow from that spear was dealt,
Beaten and thirsty,hanging there,
The angry crowd did not care,
Gall and vinegar they gave him to drink,
Son of God he had no link,
Dressed in purple, crowned with thorns,
Was the raiment he was adorned,
Crucify him shouts were heard,
He let them willingly, without a word,
" Greater love hath no man than this"
Words were said for men amiss,
He could have brought them to there knees,
But he knew life's sacrifice was the key,
He looked ahead in time,
Right down into this heart of mine,
He saw promise in my life,
That's why he gave up without strife,
On the third day he rose again,
Eager to fulfill his Father's Plan,
How much he loves us, we fail to see,
He stretched his arms out and died for you and me,
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