Best Acquittal Poems
"Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ." Titus 2:13 of the King Jame Bible
Our blessed hope radiates this Christmas and beyond gloriously…
The birth of the Saviour Jesus jubilantly
Surely bringing redemption to us compassionately
With the promise of eternal life and divine nature to experience abundantly.
Our great hope glistens with great assurance…
The sacrifice of Christ that vanquished hell’s endurance
Surely forgiving us in our confessed transgression-defiance
With the acquittal from sin’s penalty and self-righteous arrogance.
Our blissful hope shines upon biblical revelation…
The resurrection of the Lord that subdued everlasting damnation
Surely ordaining us in our believers’ royal position
With the subjugation of death’s sting and its fatal destruction.
Our steadfast hope glitters through blessed worship…
The work of the Father that exposes His leadership
Surely molding us while striving to do well by His enabling partnership
With the guidance of His wisdom and prudence for faithful stewardship.
Our triumphant hope sparkles along gratitude delight…
The goodness of God that proclaims His magnificent height
Surely upholding us in steadfastly sharing the Gospel light
With the truth of His inerrant Word and immutable covenant’s might.
Our momentous hope glows against attacking uncertainty…
The prodding of the Holy Spirit that seals His authority
Surely keeping us to stay in His will’s protective security
With the answers to fervent prayers and earnest supplications’ entreaty.
Our joyous hope brightens toward a triumphant moment…
The coming of the King that declares prophecy’s fulfillment
Surely ensuring us of precious rewards due to gracious accomplishment
With the commendation for favoured devotion and commitment.
December 26, 2020
Edited on November 27, 2021
3rd place, " 'X' Contest, New or Old" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 11/28/2021.
So many words, such boring waffle
Posturing peacocks, whispering snakes,
Actions so twisted doubtful if lawful
A bunch of connivers, dithering flakes.
In the House which they rule
They pointed and frowned
Lectures unending as if back at school,
Comments unwelcomed, arguments drowned.
Then to the Senate the matter was sent
Pelosi's grandstanding the Media in tow,
Swaying opinion her only intent
Her hands animated, her face all aglow.
But Mitch was just waiting,
Lurking, knives drawn,
Biding his time skillfully baiting,
For he had the Queen, they just the Pawn.
Here comes their bleating
Lost sheep wailing foul
They accuse us of cheating
Which makes me just howl.
Boy I like winning
It's such a huge high,
I so can't stop grinning
While watching them cry.
Now the deal's done
This farce put to bed,
I'll continue to stun
As I forge way ahead
They thought they could win
By playing the part
But if acting's a sin
I've mastered that art.
Another four years
Of me and my tribe,
No matter their tears
To me they'll subscribe.
Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.
I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and steady
but you came through when I was only half ready.
So oft you had to be not just a mom but a dad too.
It wounds me to confesss it but we both know it’s true.
Memories of sworn promises to you I didn’t keep
cauterize my conscience and cost me peaceful sleep.
Yes, dear, you were always there for me
seasons in and seasons out.
Thus you immeasurably blessed my life
of that there can be no doubt.
I like to think I repaid you at least a loving little.
If not, I pray God grant me mercy and an acquittal.
In life, there’s plenty, and various points of view
Aged twenty, forty or more, give or take a few
Whether one has gone full circle, half or even third
This question has been asked, or you may just have heard.
When something you have done, or have decided upon
Like a referee’s call that’s been derided on
Do you calmly stay, to answer in rebuttal
Or do you go for drama, finding ways for acquittal.
At one point in our lives, we may protest or howl
It’s us who made the wrong call, or even did what’s foul
What to do after that, is anyone, everyone's guess
It would reflect our morals, the code that we profess.
Being adult is to try to make amends , apologize
sincerely, no platitudes,to those we've wronged, sympathize
Pointing not to others, guilty or not, to blame
Or say such other excuse, that sucks or just as lame.
Not seeking refuge, but owns up to accountability
Being an adult means taking full responsibility.
From all the things we've learned, what puts us to the test
To walk the talk, the meaning, separates us from the rest.
KIM PATRICE NUNEZ
The TRUE Meaning of Being Adult Contest - Honorable Mention
Sponsor : FJ Thomas
25 April 2015
The Folly of Man
Into that great abyss we speak fortunes, wants and frustrations
Seeking that witch can only give us solace to that that never bothers.
A million prayers go out into the night with fear and supplications
Only one eye open, and that half seeing the plan that is our fathers.
We glean the fields of a present day pasture seeing naught but the road ahead
Never looking sideways, to that wich could be. Or back to what has passed
It is the Folly of Man that keeps us building this world from the blood of the dead
Where brick, tile and steel, are forever the molds from witch our children are cast
We need to move forward to a simpler time where things are not complex
When profit does not reign as the bottom line and the dollar is not our savior
To strive for a life where we live freely, without regard to color or sex
When hungry children can catch the breath and hate isn’t normal behavior
When a gift is again just a gift, and no longer requires an equal requital,
And a compliment given to another isn’t for a personal gain.
When justice is sought and given, and no guilty takes home and acquittal
And the innocent can live their lives without feeling unwarranted pain
So look to the instructions that he left us, that those, his chosen have penned,
And wander not where you road will lead you, or what your destiny really is
This world we know is fleeting and into eternity we must all ascend
For never has there been a more apparent truth, that all of this is really His.
Good morning mister, of thy kindness to receive,
All groans of yester, thou does seem to reprieve,
With a promise to stir, tinges optimiste do contrive,
Pain’s sphincter lets laughter, it’s another reason to live.
Swaying pyjamas on sling, the autopsy right begins,
Stayed on the bed is a rolling, whom my kitchen concerns,
“Who took that mine bedding, and Ngwaci scantily obtains?
Wanna see me cast the ring, that thine blossom returns?”
The morning prescription taken, I am innocuously abased daily,
To equate with all good men, whose wives possess jealously,
For what woman with a noble token, shirks to lose recklessly?
Taught in the womb that lesson, it break suspicious smiles secretly.
So a frowned fellow I am, and not alone in this generation,
Often silent kicks boom, where behind the driver I myself resign,
Mister, let the news come, you know, cowboys pay to listen,
Devising to forget the theme, but slaughters make to mourn.
A day received with glory, all mine suffer classic deplores,
My stem with a rigorous forgery, in front of the boss affords strange chores,
The cold of June here has a story, then an undeliberate sudden Salsa implores,
My acquittal is my worry, nobody cares to hear the weather course.
Soon ‘t’s time the cycle to restart, wishing a fair friend had that control
remote,
All these woes at will to alleviate, yet as I am, they incur not the respite,
With some spreed daily to hurt, alone I remain, a man of living heart,
I choose to live life when I find it, even if minutes thirty like a concert.
I rise with and as clear as the sun, I return crumbled like muddy earth,
This manner of men taught me none, but the proverbial sways of youth,
What shall I do but a resolve one, tonight, where else to go but Unguth!
Limited of option, I have all mornings mine, even if not couth.
Could spectres conceal inscrutable plot,
while following lives with clandestine eyes:
mocking each movement with grace we have not.
Caste-less company of foolish and wise,
elusive and tireless, always impend:
fleet, ever positioned to criticize.
Noiselessly waiting at each journey's end
watching and judging, without acquittal,
deeds that we're proud of, and some to defend.
Their aloofness lessens us, belittles
as around all they swoop, dread silent crows,
and yet are scattered like children's skittles
when darkness descends with one immense blow,
for night is queen of secrets and shadows.
WORDS THAT STRIVE TO RHYME
“Listless” in “Perfect isolation” I “Collide”
“Soul gazing”
“Escape from self” as the “Child inside”-
“Obsessive compulsive poet”
“Heavens heartbeat” an “Interlude” with
“Angels”
“Scent to remind me” as “Trophy tears”
“Kiss the sky”
“An obedient mind” traces “Déjà vu” –“Air travel”
“Half way around the world”
“Oceans odd overtures” reveal “Mosaic”
“Pansy shells on Pismo beach”
“Longing” for “Appropriation” an “Acquittal”
"A Genesis week”
“Phoenix rising” with “Love on hold”
“Lost rings and broken toes”
“Giant monsters” start a “Grasshopper showcase”
“Grace”
“Loves flight-Feather light” echoes “Harvest moon”
“I am a Poem”
(Compiled from titles of my recently penned poetry)
© Kim van Breda—April 2014
Justified By Grace
“7 But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.8 If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. 9 If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:7-9 NKJV
I am placed in right standing with God;
Released from condemnation;
My acquittal from guilt secured
By my Savior’s justification.
Justified By Grace,
Through faith in Christ’s atonement;
All my sins confessed;
Released from God’s judgment.
By the blood of Jesus Christ,
I have the hope of glory.
No human works qualify me—
Only the Calvary story.
Justified By Grace alone,
According to Christ’s love and mercy.
Christ is my Savior;
Made provision for my clemency.
Glory! Glory! Glory!
The Father and the Son,
Justified By Grace,
And a sinless unity to be won.
We all can become heirs,
According to the hope of life eternal.
Cleansed by the blood of Jesus;
Changed from mortal to immortal.
Justification is a gift of grace,
That along with mercy flows.
A reason to be eternally grateful
For God’s love that daily shows.
Justified By Grace;
Poured out abundantly;
A process beyond human reasoning,
Yet heavenly and a thing of beauty!
© Copyright 2012 Maureen LeFanue
www.maureenlefanue.com
Where are you along the curve? How grateful is your heart?
Do you know the God you serve, or the gifts that He imparts?
Examine where you are and contemplate where you should be.
Take an honest look how far you are along the curve that you will see.
He who is forgiven little, in like manner thanks less too.
But to him who grasps acquittal, a greater depth of thanks ensues.
Worship is: when we give thanks for something we’ve received.
Along those lines look back in time, is there gratitude you see?
Since I am grateful for the sunshine, I gaze up and whisper praise.
His creation is sublime! So His worship I can raise.
Fair love be not repressed! Along the curve; where do you rest?
To what degree have you been blessed? What gratitude is manifest?
I am grateful for my health, so with folded hands I pray.
Through so many days this wealth! For every hour I give Him praise.
Sincere love be not repressed! Along the curve; where do you rest?
To what degree have you been blessed? What gratitude is manifest?
I so adore my family, with fervent tears and hands upraised.
So much the Lord has done for me, I must give Him higher praise.
Fervent love be not repressed! Along the curve; where do you rest?
To what degree have you been blessed? What gratitude is manifest?
I saw my dad at eighty seven, finally yield his life to Christ.
Oh, all the hosts of heaven heard my loudest shouts that night!
Grateful love be not repressed! Along the curve; where do you rest?
To what degree have you been blessed? What gratitude is manifest?
I met Jesus on a cross, to make amends for all my sin.
Upon acceptance of the cost, I fell in thanks but rose (born) again.
Utmost love be not repressed! Along the curve; where do you rest?
To what degree have you been blessed? What gratitude is manifest?
I am far more grateful now, for the God I love and serve.
I see better here somehow of where my thanks is on the curve.
God’s love is not repressed, so along the curve; where do you rest?
To what degree have you been blessed? What gratitude is manifest?
All leaders are enough capable
To remove problems analyzable;
They set few goals achievable,
And strive to solve snags tangle.
Ready to meet challenges triple
Without any hurry or hustle.
Calm in disasters are as a temple
Faith and hope run apprehensible
In them, and are always adjustable
With all – top to bottom in jostle.
Have rights and duties analyzable
Keep them at length allowable;
War! Can forever involve trouble
Ready to fight with vigour amusable.
Leadership is a quality - acquittal
For those in difficulty are adjustable.
Beating below belt not admirable
Kind yet hard like a steel, abominable
And sweet both lie in a leader capable.
Solidly soft, yet greatly defendable;
Rigid, tough but right in tight tousle.
Napoleon and Gandhi are available
With him to any problem tackle.
Modi’s tongue, Teresa’s struggle –
All are there in a leader capable.
I remember the eve of ripening masculinity
The frenzied feelings so easy to ignite
The naive assumption of life to infinity
The wondrous things yet to incite
I remember a time when what mattered was little
At least to my limited knowledge of being
When innocence and passion allowed such acquittal
For a time, though soon I would see it fleeing
I remember this fondly and clearly, it seems
As I sometimes still feel the sweet danger
So grateful, this gift, presented to me
Those glorious days of a stranger
I butter the toast as if it were a pardon,
its crust breaking under my knife
like a sealed envelope.
The coffee is bitter ink,
a confession cooling in its cup.
I swallow it fast,
as if speed could trick the executioner.
When I buy myself flowers
I imagine them lining a witness box:
petals trembling,
each one swearing I once existed.
I take long baths,
the water climbing like hours,
the body softening, rehearsing its exit.
Every errand feels ceremonial:
the grocer weighing apples,
the cashier stamping receipts—
as if recording my presence
before the page turns blank.
I buy the trinket, the sugared cake,
because why shouldn’t the condemned
glitter a little,
lick the spoon clean?
The hours leer,
their faces blindfolded.
Any minute the rope could tighten—
a phone could ring with pardon.
So I go on feeding myself,
scraping honey from the jar,
gilding my throat
for the last song or the first acquittal,
as though I might vanish mid-bite,
or else be called back,
my name suddenly rinsed clean
from the record.
ACQUITTAL
justification resides
within the mind of God
human limitations
overwhelming they defraud
spiritual anxiety
restricting earnest belief
genuine salvation
not completely implicit
compromising purity
attempting to achieve
good intentions
strive for others needs
proven innocent
without requiring law
faith restored
justified in His love
validation profound
acceptance of our gift
salvation anxiety
perfected in His peace
© August 2013—Kim van Breda
The founding fathers in their graves
Are surely not at rest
For what they had intended
Has been brutally repressed.
The country’s been divided
By a madman at the wheel
And all attempts at justice
Somehow crumble and congeal.
At least a call of witnesses
Would help, if just a little,
To let the nation hear some truths
Before the sure acquittal.
With this administration
All decorum has departed
And we, the people, rage inside
Yet still feel broken-hearted.