Lucifer rebels, war ensues
Igniting evil’s deadly fuse.
Evil assails, Michael prevails
Satan’s revolt in heaven fails.
Cast down to earth, and filled with rage
His war with God, on man he’ll wage.
The rebel heart that his being filled
In human hearts he will instill.
Mission achieved by cunning ruse
Igniting evil’s deadly fuse.
Paradise lost, from Eden tossed
Death is the price man’s sin did cost.
Sin like a cancer suffused man’s mind
Evil blossomed, of every kind.
Wickedness so ruined God’s plan
That He was sorry He made man.
At the right time, God sent His Son
On Easter’s morn, the fight was won.
Lucifer’s reign was dealt a blow
God’s love for man was now on show.
The reign of sin will one day end
When God again, His Son will send.
This time to judge the quick and dead
And destroy sinners and their Head.
God’s fire will burn the wicked up
They spurned His bid with them to sup.
In place of sin, God’s love will reign
Eternal life His saints will gain.
You are the warmth of the summer sun
That makes me long for distant shores
On a rainy day
You are the gentle breeze that bathes my face
At the end of winter when spring flowers
Come out to play
You are the magnificence of the elusive moon
That bids farewell to a day of joy
And renders me whole
You are the sweetness of a sculptured rose
Whose fragrance assails my being
And soothes my soul
This rink ranks right up there.
My power skates, slice each ring,
the scent of ice assails my nose.
Funny in the absence of air, I breathe.
It must be a dream. I don’t care.
The wind of Saturn blows through my hair.
No wind, you say, but I will believe
what this dream gifts to me. Can’t believe
I’ve made it this far. It’s not Mars -
tired of the heat and the bars.
Brightly lit, I see a disco ball in the mist.
I am young again. Giddy boys showing off.
I’m twirling like a pro until I fall
softly onto my fairytale bed,
the one twenty mattresses tall.
I woke up a bit bruised. Saturn
on Saturday night, had no idea,
a princess performed on her rings.
This rink ranks right up there.
Since You’ve Been Gone.
Since you’ve been gone, my heart has a hole, darker than arctic nights.
Since you’ve been gone, my ears seek that voice which abides now with the choir of heaven.
Since you’ve been gone, my hand now seeks fingers they once entwined, and held them by your side
.
Since you’ve been gone, my body misses the arms that held it tight and our hearts as one shared the same beat.
Since you’ve been gone, I breathe in deep the smell of springs sweet flowers and memories of your perfume once more my nose assails.
Since you’ve been gone, each day is empty where once your laughter did fill.
Since you’ve been gone, I still await the knock on my door, of which I know shall never will come. The pain lingers on, a kind of which I’ve never known.
Since you’ve been gone, through tears that fall behind closed eyes the question asked, why you went away. You left so suddenly, many words wished, now left unsaid.
Since you’ve been gone, while alone I sleep, I ask of him, you in comfort will he keep. Till at last no mere memory, but side by side through eternity we shall be.
By
Patrick D
Lord, I know your love,
but show me Your justice.
I know the day will come
when probation is done,
and everyone will see
their eternal destiny
justice meted out in judgment reality...
I know, I know that day will come
But...what about now, Lord?
What about now?
What about the mothers who mourn
for their children war has torn
from their breast
What about now, Lord?
What about now?
What about the young ones who wail
along the bomb strewn trail
of a orphaned future
What about now, Lord?
What about now?
What about the homeless who sigh
while their politicians lie
about shelter and supplies,
and no know wonders why
What about now, Lord?
What about now?
What about the genocide's dead,
and all the senseless bloodshed?
What about the survivors, unfed
reduced to begging for bread
living lives laced with dread
their heartaches left unsaid
Lord, I know of your love,
but show me your justice
before my faith fails,
and every doubt assails
before this evil prevails...
Step....step into the fray
Please...do not delay
Show, show Your justice...
TODAY!
Eileen Manassian
How can we see, if we be blind
to touch of God, loving and kind,
for though He seeks to set us free,
if we be blind, how can we see?
Mind of our soul, within heart sleeps,
insentient to love’s bliss beeps,
so we must awake, to feel whole;
within heart sleeps, mind of our soul.
God’s light within, our ego veils,
incessantly presence assails
and as we sink deeper in sin,
our ego veils, God’s light within.
Our ego dies when thoughts recede
and with love as our sturdy steed,
our consciousness reaches new highs;
when thoughts recede, our ego dies.
In timeless time, we merge with God,
ocean of love that leaves us awed
and as we so heavenward climb,
we merge with God in timeless time.
Based on Psalm 23 NIV
Placed Second
Modern Version Psalm 23 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Miranda Hawley
A Voyager
The Lord is my captain; I`ve faith in Him.
He asks me to sit down in the stateroom,
He steers the vessel away from rocks,
He comforts my spirits.
He leads me along the right routes
To spare distress.
Even though I cross
the deepest oceans,
No fear assails me,
As He`s my captain;
His shine and His brain
Enhance my faith.
He steers amidst stifling stormy waves
Without being encumbered by them.
He fills the ship with fuel;
I am delighted.
I pray that His grace and mercy rest with me
As long as breath I heave,
and I will be the Lord`s humble servant
forever.
It's an agony that assails and assaults.
It's a state of indecision that boggles the mind;
It's a heart and soul that's off track and taken aback.
It's a sleepy boredom fighting hard to stay awake.
It's a darkening cloud of unholy irritation whose
remedy calls for more than a sacred getaway.
It's a sinking ship in need of new and better sails.
Not yet lost, but weary with the toss and the turn.
It's where change is brewing at the crossroads.
Where guidance to leave or to stay, is our humble prayer.
It's a change that, although not set in stone, yields
A sense of siege and renders a holding pattern.
It's a holding pattern having neither staying power
Nor authority to determine decisive landings.
It's a landing which, if unrealized, could delay or
even halt new seasons and dim anticipated visions.
I Climbed rocks winged with words,
and paint beauties on my path,
invade palaces unhindered,
bearing arms welling from this frame.
I draw the sword from the scabbard,
piercing dictators with a dagger,
I cut their cables by this craft,
and watched their fickle frame subdued.
I soar like eagle in my thoughts,
coruscating gleams attending,
I see nature's beauty and hear voices,
I roam in firce shades in search of jewels,
The pulse of fear or grim assails,
Yet capapie and undaunted.
I see men entrapped in a race,
oh! that they might see the filth,
and time, how short to pen,
these vague and obscure moments.
Yet, poetry catches but a few.
I will not run from fear. Its torment I must shun,
when it threatens with distress and intimidation.
No song of despair will I sing when day is done,
nor will I cower, cringing with grim trepidation.
Though calamity assails me, I will not be alarmed.
Courage and faith will justly serve as my citadel
until the menacing enemies have been disarmed.
Then, in serene existence, once more will I dwell.
I will not burden my heart by anchoring it in grief.
Life should be a celebration, a mirthful affair,
but everything I fear will steal my joy like a thief.
I choose not to squander a minute in dire despair.
Death will not find me trembling on my knees,
for it's the dreaded price I must pay for mortality.
I will not plea with the Reaper, only to appease
him in granting me one more day before finality.
I will tend my garden on these hot Summer days,
and rejoice in knowing Autumn's chill draws near.
I will welcome Winter snows with words of praise,
and await Spring's arrival without anguish or fear.
August 12, 2022
Strong Emotions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Emotions highlighted are fear and despair
Epigraph:
When Sailors go to Sea,
and seek distant lands.
As every man Knows,
The Reaper's at Hand.
So, that's how it Goes
and that's how it stands.
When Sailors go to Sea,
And seek Distant lands.
On thirty-foot waves,
Now rides their plight.
The scraps of shorn sails,
By low lantern light.
Most steering Gone,
lost at last sight,
Would the ship founder,
or float through the night?
A tempest Hurricane,
was the battered ships Bane.
all souls' thoughts the same.
Would the shivering Timbers,
Capsize or slip under?
Which Sum would become,
Old Davey Jone's Plunder.
On thirty-foot waves,
Through crest and vale.
The old Salts knew Why,
When the unseasoned Paled.
The Tempest Flailed,
throughout the night.
They pumped and bailed,
for their Mortal Live's.
Then they went on,
in eighty knot flail
No rest or relent.
When the Tempest Assails.
The sinking ship survived,
with All soul's alive.
As the crew rigged Mast's,
Land Ho! A Sailor cried.
Thank God at Last,
Piped the Bo' Sun's blast.
Are lingering sighs, while expressing disbelief
Showing some frustration ere welcome relief,
With sincere, rapt attention to what it entails
Carefully absorbing the minutest of details,
Sometimes with the aid of a silk handkerchief.
Then, too, observing the most foolish mischief
Showing itself in a variety of impetuous motif
Sending one off the straight and narrow rails,
Are lingering sighs.
A heavy sigh can denote suspension of belief
Or registering information requiring a debrief,
To assure utmost security from whatever assails
Attention-getting, to be sure, notice never fails,
Quite different from sudden breath-taking grief
Are lingering sighs.
what is this silence that assails me
goes for my throat and won’t let go?
what is this emptiness to the horizon
that suffocates as loud as loud can be?
searching the sky i wait for night to fall
no fanfare or pompous announcement
there is no breeze no sound
no subtle wave of hand
as if all orchestrated
for something
someone
maybe
me
?
AP: 3rd place 2022
Posted on May 12, 2022
Jesus died for my sins
But if I live for naught
Am I living freely?
As with constitutions -
Mix of rights and duty!
Jesus died for my sins
What need we be thankful?
"He asked me not, nor I
Of God, a pure conscience!"
Or, "Why should I comply?"
Jesus died for my sins
My job: just Testimony -
Tell all, "No guilt assails!"
Saved a new, great vessel
Tossed on earth, safe in gales
Jesus died for my sins
Deaths victory (but) temporary!
I know how "Good" Friday
Preludes to deaths defeat
He rose, "PAS" Holiday
NOTE:
My syllable count for "temporary" and "Vic -try" are more India- English (& American accented?). Thanx dear reader. Indulge me, thanX. shalOm
Oh, foolish man! I told you I'm not a clinger
Don't grab my tail 'less you want to be bitten
and if at me you keep pointing your finger
I'll show you the contempt of an angry kitten
Be off with your horde and their petty assails
or I vow to scratch the eyes of those with you
whose fatty buttocks are blubbery like whales
Your gaggle flings vile insults as you pursue.
My whiskers are trimmed and yours are scruffy
You know what I mean when I spit and hiss?
You're not insulting me when you call me Fluffy
I'm an aristocratic feline. I only answer to Priss.
If you draw nearer, I'll swat you with my paws
Keep your dirty hands off of my marmalade coat
or I swear I'll scratch you with unsheathed claws
For your insolence there should be an antidote!
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