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An Omen Of The Taste Of Twilight

Vanished is the wild magic of this place; this wilderness I now roam alone as its lifeblood seeps into Afterlife mournful howls across time and distance go unanswered - Oh, how I long to join again in my brethren’s song.. fading sunlight falls in slivers through boughs of evergreen splinters across timeworn trails I tread - beaten by generational rhythms of the steady, swift and sure I want to run but I keep my loping stride for I will get there; to the track to the other side when the twilight tastes of blood the train’s lonely wail leans on sooty winds in sighs of sad sentiments as I make my way parallel to the parallel lines of track - its smokey dirge echoes laments walled within the desolation of my soul - this Trojan horse; larger than any mighty prey my brethren and I could ever take down - smuggles pale warriors into my revered forest on veins and arteries of iron throbbing with an inhumane vengeance mind wanders in the reckless wreckage of it all.. neath overhanging branches where leftover oak leaves rustle in a clinging stubbornness and flit like a flock of freeze-dried sparrows I pass.. somewhere up there above my rolling shoulders where reaching tips of praying branches pierce the softness of other side a widowed crow cries black and forlorn I embody her solitude for - from my pack I am the last of my kind ..despite my discipline my tireless legs trot faster.. a maroon sunset stretches with bloodlust across taut skies; an omen of the taste of twilight - my pace and my pulse quicken now like the tribal drums I used to know I arrive here where they gather.. a track I can no longer follow - a track I need to cross; ..tales of stalking deer-trails traversed with my pack-thoughts-tears-memories-my path now- what’s left behind-boundaries kept and boundaries to bridge.. human hatred converge at this meeting place midst falling shadows of dimming light are forerunners of freedom - aged memories that dwell in the pocket of my being now well in the stream of my noble bloodline - primal chants haunting from throats both furred and smooth-skinned resonate in reverie; .. millenniums of coexistence and ancient campfires.. forebears; both four-legged and two vibrate the mystique of this moment - its quiver I sense in my whiskers -- I see the invaders through my grey-green eyes ..the final witness.. to the decimation of my pack and the territory of my ancestors.. in the atmospheric chill my panting vapor frames my thoughts and instinct urges me forward to the track the sun is dimmed by my passion and the moon reflects in my eyes every hammering heartbeat a stepping stone to the next moment every muscle twitching with trepidation - with anticipation ..Oh! how I long to join again in my brethren’s song!.. long legs carry me lightly out onto the crossties my soulful destination where parallel universes collide to lift me in my wish to inspirit cosmic dust; my snarling form reveals the wild nature of my fateful desire.. I turn to face them one last time - muzzles flash with fire-breathing frenzy splitting the air with scents and sounds in an orgy of gunpowder lust spilling the taste of wanton bloodthirst into the ebb and flow of crimson twilight; pale savages savagely ensure my unholy deliverance. mournful howls across time and distance no longer go unanswered as I cross over the gossamer track of gentling night skies… Susan Ashley December 8, 2018 ~ Poem Of The Week ~ Week of December 16, 2018

Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018

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The Maid of Orleans

Reflecting in her garden sits a winsome little maid;
She holds a purple flower like the circlet that she made
And wrapped about her braids to grace her forehead like a crown;
Her thick and shining braids that are the shade of chestnut brown.
A soft and dreamy smile lifts her lips of cherry rose
As she so elegantly lifts the flower to her nose
To smell the rich and heady fragrance rising from its soul-
Upon this day in early May, her heart with joy is full.
But look! The heavens open wide, and joy is changed to fear,
For Michael the Archangel in the garden does appear,
And with him stand Saint Margaret and Saint Catharine, sent to seek
This girl of twelve, and in her frightened youthful ears to speak
Words form the Lord, of how someday, somehow, she'll have to save
Her native land, her land of France, from lying in the grave.
When in their bright angelic garb these saints to heav'n returned,
She knew they had been sent from God, her heart within her burned
With strong desire, with heaven's fire, to do her Father's will;
Her heart beats hard, while all around is silent, calm and still.

The years pass by, now seventeen, her hour is fully come,
And what is now but distant fancy, dull and throbbing hum
Will be her life, her joy, her pain; her darkness or her light:
For God and country, king and freedom, must, she must needs fight.
The chains of England must be broken, young prince Charles crowned:
A source of hope, of inspiration must for France be found;
For civil war rakes raging claws through weary, hopeless men,
Who fight and die, and sacrifice, and lose their homes again;
Their gardens, flocks and herds, and treasures, all are swept away:
With nothing left but life itself, and naught to do but pray.

God heard their prayer and sent her there for their deliverance,
To lead them on to victory through every circumstance
Of treachery or deviltry that loomed on every side.
Urged on by all the saints above and martyrs who had died,
She bound her armor to her body, helmet to her head;
A troop of eager soldiers to the Orleans siege she led.
Without a fear she faced the battle, banner held up high;
It filled each fainting heart with spirit, waving in the sky:
Unfailing, never falling, always standing at the fore,
And filling every weary soul with courage to the core.
Though wounded by an arrow striking close beside her heart,
She still pressed on to victory, she played her vital part.
The Maid of Orleans did her best, she held back not at all,
But risked her life at every turn to heed her heav'nly call;
She fought and bled and braved the beast until her king was crowned,
And even then she carried on, she traveled all around:
Each city gained broke off the chains of power-hungry kings,
Who killed to gain another's land, his citizens and things.

Alas! She met her fate at hands that should have helped her cause;
The countrymen she battled sold her to be judged by laws
And men that all disfavored her, yet still she firmly stood,
Proud head held high, two gleaming eyes; she answered best she could
Each twisted question meant to trap her clear but simple mind:
With wit and art she answered each; they really could not find
A cause for death, but death must be for such an enemy
The fate; who sees such visions full of vile heresy,
Of saints and angels revelating mortals with God's plan.
They also charged her with the sin of dressing like a man,
But it was of necessity she donned a soldier's guise;
For all throughout the war-torn realm roamed pairs of hateful eyes
Who did not heed a woman's cries, but did what pleased them best:
They killed or maimed or stained for life from eastern France to west.

So thus it is, not twenty years, they chain her to a stake-
The final chain that no amount of bravery can break.
Within her dress, hugged to her chest, she tucks a wooden cross;
The symbol of the Son of God, who faced such early loss
Of life, and like her was betrayed and mocked and led to die
Without a cause, without a crime, without a reason why.
Ten thousand people press around; she feels the burning heat,
As flames grow hotter, ever hotter- licking at her feet:
But on one thing and one thing only both her eyes are fixed;
Upon the figure held before her- on the crucifix.
And she is thinking of a time that seems so long ago,
When as a girl she used to sit and watch her garden grow;
She'd pick the purple petaled flowers, braid them in her hair;
Her life was simple, pure, and sweet, she hadn't any care
Until Saint Michael gave her calling to her way back then.
But if she had another life, she'd do it all again,
For God and country, king and freedom she could die this death;
And so it was that thus she died, and with her final breath
Her soul and body parted ways, and while her body burned,
Her soul went on to realms unknown, her soul to heav'n returned
Into the hands of He who made her, to the arms of Christ the Lord;
Who made for her a better body, more than just restored.
Here ends the troubles of this maiden, gone are jail cells dark:
Forever live the Maid of Orleans, known as Joan of Arc.

{Written by Isaiah Zerbst. For the first time published on October the 13th, 2014.}

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2014

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Wise Men Still Seek Him Today

W-hen the fullness of time had come, Jesus was born behind an Inn in a cave-like stable.
I-n the Inn there was no room for the Son of God, no room for the Saviour of men.
S-tar was shining so bright above the stable for the shepherds to find their way to Him.
E-ven angels proclaimed His birth to those shepherds "Unto you is born this day."
M-anger is where Mary and Joseph first laid him.  It was filled with hay.
E-very animal there must have known that their Creator had come that day. 
N-o one knew the depth of love God had, to give His Son to dwell among men.
S-ame star guided three kings from the Orient, who studied the stars and heavens.
T-hese wise men from the East came saying "Where is He that is born King"
I-n their hands they brought him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrr.
L-ike these three wise men, wise men still seek him today! 
L-ove is the reason that God sent His only Begotton Son into the world to save us.
S-eeking for you and me, yes God was seeking for us because we had left Him.
E-veryone, yes, all we like sheep have gone astray. Everyone to his own way.
E-ach one has to make his on decision to follow Him or not to follow Him.
K-ing, born to be a King. King of the ages. King of the past. King of the future.

H-eaven, He came from Heaven to earth to show us the right way.
I-niquity, the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
M-elody, He gives us a sweet melody, we sing many songs of praise to Him.
T-ree, A Christmas tree, the love that Jesus had for us, to die on a tree.
O-nly one life and how soon it passes. Only in life can we accept His Love.
D-eliverance, He came from Heaven to preach deliverance to the captives.
A-cknowlege Him and accept Him. Behold now is the accepted time.
Y-ou, Yes, this Christmas Love was for You.  Will You accept this love?

For Brian Strands Christmas Love contest.

Copyright © Marty Owens | Year Posted 2009

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To release me from hellish nights
let's talk now, Fear...
I leave, yet your shadow follows me;
a darkened grime blowing on my mind 
like an uninvited guest from a demonic realm.
The macabre of nights holds no clues
but reflects my image through you:
Realizing this now I oppose
those vicious whispers, 
and embed them in the dirge of sand:
When confronted with inner warfare
O Fear, you turn from rage to cowardice;
I walk away, never to come back...
that phantom of rain tumbles as mist shines.
Feeling empowered now, your  hunts lose
as my soul claims its final deliverance--

I’m no longer a pawn.

Fear Contest for Debbie Guzzi 
Re-submitted 8/30/2017

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014

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Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 7

I…breathe again…
Meditating on flowers of my pasture, plucked with my eyes,
Resting…open, like buds blooming, and resting…

“Take me…” he said weakly, so softly in my ear…

I greeted the demon with the warmth in my eyes, 
Upon opening them to its crippled form before me,
It was shivering, shackled, face caved in, razor teeth broken
All night I had heard his screaming, his pains, and his revitalizing hurt

As the Devil crouched near, 
His hands clenched in the blood of his minion...
He turned his head grimacing, 
Shrewdly interested in the exchange

The sad, sniveling creature touched my hand and squeezed it,
His breathing more hoarse and heavy
Bloodied tears and muck falling upon me liberally

“Do not be afraid of the light, 
As your brothers hide cries shuffling in their fight,
The touch of deliverance is often strewn with thorns,
And to the onlookers, the dominants, scorned…

Rest your weary head upon my shoulders,
For there I shall sooth your devastating tremors,
Your rough skin upon the softness of sympathy,
Your eyes burning in the pains of my empathy…

Rest on this day from the indulgences you have absorbed,
From the faces of the damned, the bruised, the abhorred,
His antagonism over your life has weakened your will,
Bleeding hearts still beat, as his stubborn mind goes still…

The Sabbath day shines against the garish evil,
To reveal the good that remains in the slaves of suffering…”

Our Prince spat the ground in fury, 
Cracking his neck from left to right

“The Sabbath day, resting in lies, rankled in syrupy mess, 
Believing is deceiving all this feral trash we call friends,
His happiness upon a time that mocks all those who stray,
Those who dare to bash the head of a pompous, polished day
May I shove each heart into the rash-spent furies of my consternation,
To rest assured, all that the day soon brings is the madness of insanity’s ascension
Never was there one as sickening, as the one who stabs us in foolish hope,
Into nothings who can never attain joy, who only scramble to appease…and mope…”

My eyes, which were so focused on the miserable demon,
Who had finally fallen asleep in my arms,
Color returning to his acquiescent form,
Averted once again to the demoralizing Devil, with severe pain and with severe love

“The sleeper, the slave, his submissive energy you crave,
Though you do not think you deserve the ease of his save,
Rest is in your ability to submit,
Not to prove, or prevalently profit,
Merely to observe where happiness must grow,
The heart recalls the blessings beyond what we think we know…” 

And to that, he sang with me, tension and rawness in his bravado…

“We in this realm shall cultivate each other,
In the strange company of one another,
To sing desperately with passions unrest,
So that in separate ways we may perceive our test
This demon sleeps in the arms of love,
It knows not the smiles and cares from above,
Let us be challengers for challenge’s sake,
In secret endeavors, this art supreme we make
Drifting darkness will always subsist and applause,
One who struggles to yield, for the relief of this pause…”

Singing on, he crushed my voice with the deep recesses of his own -
“A war awaits as long as these duets fail to defy…
As long as my meaning is subjective to your flair…”

His dark eyes, like black trenches, impasses of despair
Stayed irrepressibly open, staring into my motionless soul
I breathe…to stay alive . . .

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

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I Can Do All Things Through Him

When life's treacherous trek becomes more than I can bear,
And it seems there is no deliverance from my deep despair,
I repeat these words of reassurance that will relieve my woe:
"I can do all things through Him who gives me strength", I know!

When I'm assailed from all sides with hopeless situations,
I know that He will listen to my earnest supplications,
And give me courage to triumph o'er challenges here below.
"I can do all things through Him who gives me strength", I know!

When loved ones pass and it seems more than can be endured,
With His compassionate embrace and love, I am reassured.
His peace and understanding upon me He will e'er bestow!
"I can do all things through Him who gives me strength", I know!

When I am faced with seemingly insurmountable goals,
And my dreams and aspirations are dashed on desolate shoals,
With these reassuring words I can conquer any foe:
"I can do all things through Him who gives me strength", I know!

When I encounter the many trials and tribulations of life,
I turn to the One who can ease my stress and strife,
Placing my trust and faith in Him from whom all graces flow.
"I can do all things through Him who gives me strength", I know!

(Based on Philippians 4:13)

Entry for Christy Teas' "Christian Poem" Contest

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012

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Thank you Lord

Thank You Lord

Jesus you laid down your life for me
So I put my faith and trust in thee
The evil within tries to overtake
But I flee and resist for my soul’s sake
I stay focused on thy Lord
And yield temptations with thy sword
I turned from thy sins
And new life began
Lord, you taught me the way
And showed me I was drifting astray
Following the wandering sheep
That fled at the strike of the Shepherd’s greet
You cut down the trees and cleared a path
For those who walk it will escape the wrath
You planted the field with seeds
In hope of sprouting good deeds
It is only through your grace and mercy
That you give water, for those who drink shall never be thirsty
You are thy foundation
And deliverance out of salvation
You washed the stains from thy robe
And filled me with the spirit to stand bold
Saving me from death
And giving me everlasting breath
I wait patiently for the day
When the Lord will say
My child I am pleased 
You have endured to the end
Now Come On In

Copyright © Stephan McBride | Year Posted 2010

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Happy New World

Happy New World A new day glows as the year comes to close Opting for true love that rejects old throes, Wishing happiness for all ringing heavenly bells, Offering hand of friendship as tranquility dwells. No need to waste time making elaborate plans, A silent prayer in unison will awaken all hands Linking solidarity to defeat emissaries of evil When angels will join in to vanquish the devil. Citizens of this world over seven billion strong Have enough power to defy mighty atom bomb, For no one would die if no one would fight, Refusing to pull trigger will end unsightly fright. Healing won't begin until we recognize the pain Hiding in places where despair and grief reign. A tiny part of each of us can restore dignity As people rise-up to save anguished humanity. May volunteers bring smiles to saddened faces As regal actions shine brightly in angelic graces. Imagine billion hands reaching to those in need Uplifting resolutely, engaged in a noble deed. May the world unite with heartfelt compassion As message of kinship reverberates true passion. In a world without wars there are no weapons For trust builds friendship that peacefully beckons. May new-year dawn wishing happy new world to all, May deliverance of goodness answer every call, May courage dominate defying perils big and small, May harmony loom large as unity stands tall. December 30, 2017 First place: Best poem contest by Silent One

Copyright © Vijay Pandit | Year Posted 2017

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Crosses Christlike creatures carry crosses bravely borne from fetters forged by blessed consecrations. Wicked winds tear at flesh that’s whipped and worn as vanquished persons hold on to their convictions. A twisted world is turning towards the darkness embracing envy, enmity and shame. The holy sword is noted for its sharpness as it cuts the callous with a fiery flame. Christlike creatures carry crosses bravely borne in days when demons dare to raise a hype of hell. Yet, an angel protects them from the scorn as they glance down on some sorry son that fell. God will be victor in the wake of time. There is a cross brand new for some to own, a quick deliverance from hands that are unkind to arms of welcome and a world called home. 3/30/18 Alliteration poem Sponsored by Silent One 2nd Place

Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2018

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RAINDROPS OF IMMORTALITY Smiles were stolen from me long time ago Days gone gray as storms rush to play: my... They drain. Fervently, I called to the Heavens but it seems no one there. No one there! I lullaby with the whine of gushing winds, hoping they are kind enough to blow my notes. Notes carrying cries when am still a child as 'til this day, I yearn for father's love... I face every facets of life in color white, some brushed my lips with grins and laughter, some stitched the screams of November yet passed they left footprints to remember. There in the azure ambiance, love's dare~ I bit the chance but sadly I fell distant, my sweet red heart weep from bitter thrusts. Easing emptiness within, I refuse to be a victim. I prayed, pleading always for a Saviour kiss just maybe through it, I might die in peace. (Is death the better surrendering deliverance? Or just an acrid escape for suicidal goodbyes?) I chose God for I prefer to love and live into poetry I began rhyming a letting go the quill of a poetess, I bravely try: verses and lyrics my healing balm... Tossed flowers from the changing seasons and so the smells of pancakes and cafe flirt slatternly to my imagination bursting from me a ballad or a sonnet. But oh! Poetic finesse is a gold in a mine hence, I dig, dive to curves and loops presenting always my jolly descent views... Others said images I present confuse, they don't know, they are the nightmares creeping, shaking my lethargic muse. Written free, I asked you to read carefully~ I send messages of love, beauty and maladies... My pen scribbles mom ore unchained melodies for my heart slowly erects from slumber. It somersaults upon the breaking swell of sunrise in this tediously solitary realm of the world. The horrible webs of yesterday's frustrations I untangled from life's hullabaloos... Shattered dreams into my ink, I shall reform unencompassable inspirations, I want to rouse. Grace from God refilled, it empowered my life surging heartbeats pushed me to clamor for change. I stand to blossom amidst imprisoning trials yet never forgetting my humble ground. Coupled with the will to survive all strifes let my living be mirrored to pages and when breath of life is cut from me let my pen be raindrops of immortality. ____________________________________________________________ Sponsor Name: Silent One Contest Name: Your final poem ~~3rd Place~~ ++ POEM of the DAY ~ August 30, 2015 ++ © Olive Eloisa Guillermo 10:57 pm. August 28, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015

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Seven Last Words of Jesus

I.Jesus Spoke to His Father

Jesus spoke to His Heavenly Father
Raising up to heaven His ardent pray’r
With deep bleeding wounds that he’d all endured,
Still hang on the cross to make our soul pure.
Words He uttered were for world forgiveness
"They don’t know what they’re doing," His confess
Through heaven signs, God was a listener
Pouring His grace – we behold His power
Jesus spoke to God on behalf of us
Great messiah, our savior…we must trust
Giving himself to stoic suffering 
Unparalleled to all, God’s so Loving
First word on the cross heals souls of the throng
Praise Him! Let’s all sing our thanksgiving songs!          Luke 23:34   
II.Jesus and the Criminal

Praise Him!  Let’s all sing our thanksgiving songs
In His Glory, He wants us to belong
With contrite heart, if we truly repent
Divine Light spurts from His heart: life ‘s pure vent.
Like the criminals on sides of His cross
One spoke to Him, asked favor in remorse
"I tell you the truth,"  His precious surprise
"Today you’ll be with me in paradise."
Tis epitome of passion and mercy
In vast ocean of love and boundless sea
An invitation for eternal life
Offered at His cross, priceless cost was rife.
His second word will trawl wicked spirits,
Lure discipleship so we’ll never drift!                        Luke 23:43

III.Jesus’ Mother

Lure discipleship so we’ll never drift
From Father to His child, a snuggling lift
His third word addressed to Mary and John
He then said, "Dear woman here is your son."
To the disciple, "here is your mother"
As John was His most faithful follower.
For love and faith reside in God’s children
Each one belongs to each other ‘til  end.
A grateful child looks back to where he’d come
Thanking his parents’ love beyond realm
So much as the love of God the Father 
Which will remain forever and ever.
Father All-Source is mighty for each child
Gifting him birth, back to Christ to abide!                  John 19: 26-27            

IV.Jesus’ Cry

Gifting him birth, back to Christ to abide,
The reason why His son turned to Him, cried:
Eli, Eli lama sabachthani?
My God, my God why’ve you forsaken me?
Not a complain, just clinging while in pain,
Calling His Father- His Love’s sweet refrain!
On that very day in the dark of noon,
After three hours, His Saving Grace shone! 
Jesus’  fourth word on the cross had revealed
His heart of faith, shook the earth to rebuild
Calling our Father who cannot endure
Seeing  His Son’s wounds--- His scorching love pours!
Yet, Jesus showed obedience, sacrifice…
Through Him, our deliverance has no price .                    Mathew 27:46                           

V.Jesus’  Thirst

Through Him, our deliverance has no price
As Jesus did what the scripture implied
Fifth word on the cross: a man’s needs entice
Longed for water, “I’m thirsty,” He cried.
A thirst of forgiveness from our Father
For man’s deep contrition without struggle
Holding God’s love relieves thirst and hunger
His words also wash doubts and troubles.
For water is life, flows to purify
Pow’red by Holy Spirit since we’re baptized
Crave being cleansed, in His spirit we rely
Seek God first then our happiness comes thrice.
His prolonged lamentation was so blessed,
Jesus’ word on the cross is my life’s vest!                   John  19:  28                                                 

VI.It is Finished

Jesus’ word on the cross is my life’s vest
Safest roost in my soul, it will create 
My sweet refuge,  soft adobe for my rest
Giving strength, when my wheels of hope deflate.
Sixth word on the cross showed His fulfillment
By conquering darkness, His glorious reigned!
"It’s finished," Christ expressed with endearment,
World redemption has sent—our precious gain.
These words commenced our new life, our rebirth,
Bringing back the lost souls and wanderers
By His precious blood shed throughout the earth
Now in our heart we shall feel His wonder!
It’s finished: words of Divine Deity,
When His cross stood tall at Mount Calvary.                     John 19:30                                                      

VII. Jesus’ Spirit

When His cross stood tall at Mount Calvary
Sun ceased shining, the sky veiled by darkness
Temple curtain torn, Christ cried out loudly
Self-offering cry to the Great Highness!
"Father! In your hands I place my spirit!"
His tune of rendition, scattered all seeds
Upon these words  He died for our merit
Now, on Lent, Forever--- Hail Christ’s Good Deeds!
Upon these words  God and Son became one,
Wreath of Trinity in His obedience
Jesus Christ was certainly a good man
As Acclaimed near His cross ‘til  far distance!
Christ’s seventh word  gives full strength, great relief
Like Him,  raise ourselves to God-so our grief .                    Luke 23:46                                     

     Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
      Rights Reserved

May  21, 2016     10.15pm

Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2016

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For The Love Of Lexicon

My Mother taught me
how to see through language, 
paper was rare, iron ink wasn't free
so she sold some jewelry for porcelain lettering, 
and we clapped and sang the alphabet into life
our life, our joy, our phonetic rhapsody,
the consonants kicked and the syllables scrambled
a speedy scrimmage to espirited syntax, rat, owl, fowl,
star, far, wish and fish...
Father's farm imparted the words of work
into the grammar of growing up grounded
to the earth, to the ethic of honest effort,
through labor we are educated
and by self motivation edified,
we pronounced productivity with pride
enunciated achievement with enthusiasm
diction being defined by determination, 
in the forests and furrows form was function
the meaning of everything was alive
spelled by sunlight and sound
definition depended on how action ended,
I wanted the source,  the roots of communication
rudiments in the mud, reason in the breeze, 
Papa found me spelling God and glory in the dirt
and told me that one day I'd build an arch for the alphabet, 
I asked, how come the British speak and spell differently, 
Papa said...Son, we're not British,  we're Americans now,
battle is beginning to breathe amongst our folk,
it's time to defend our freedom Noah...
battle broke open in 1775, revolution ripped the fabric of colonization, 
the aftermath availed a new arsenal of rights
for a newborn civilization that will not rely on the Past for promise
rather, we will move toward a future that favors the flares of freedom,
there is only one instrument of intellect that can unite us,
the Egnlish language is the linchpin,  eclectic and euphonious,
capable of encouraging introspection, industry and invention
it is the poetry and pragmatism of human potential, 
I will create the first modern, monolithic dictionary
for our nation, a book bound for every home
a scripture scribed for earnest scrutiny, 
thousands upon thousands of words
waiting for your eyes to convert them into self empowerment, 

America, a nation needing no permission to prosper,
Bravery, the truest expression of beliefs, 
Constitution, a framework of motivations establishing identity, 
Deliverance,  to be delivered out of darkness by sacred desire,
Enlightenment, uninterrupted understanding of unveiled nature,
Freedom, having the ability to determine your destiny,
Gamble, to risk something of value for greater value, 
Honesty, an awareness of incorrupt feelings,
Ingenuity, inventive adaptation leading to victory, 
Justice, the cost of living,
Kindness,  respecting the feelings of others as if they were your own,
Leadership, accepting the price for commitment, 
Mastery, having total control of your craft,
Nuclear, harmony within volatility, 
Oath, to offer your honor for an ideal,
Providence, the guiding intelligence inspiring humanity, 
Question, an excuse to explore,
Redemption, being reborn through the thorns of fault,
Sovereignty, existing outside the jurisdiction of others,
Trust, a condition in which vulnerability becomes a virtue,
Unprecedented, something that has never been done before,
Vigilance, being prepared to dominate violators, 
War, aggressive confrontation that aims to eliminate opposition, 
Xenophobia, having a distrust of foreign origins,
Yearn, to feel the pangs of obsession, 
Zest, to exhibit an excitement for life -

This poem is dedicated to Noah Webster (1758 - 1843), an American icon
who labored for 28 years to create the first modern, American English Dictionary
consisting of 70, 000 words stimulating and educating
the intellects of tens of millions of Americans,  unting the people
of the United States of America with a shared language
that has proven itself to be nothing short of divine...Justin A. Bordner

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2016

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I am blessed

I am blessed, I am loved
 His grace and mercy upon my life
 Is greater than the universe’s dimension
 And all of Earth’s demission and demotion
 Won’t keep me from my life devotion 

I am blessed yes it’s true
 His protection and fortification
 Is stronger than the world’s defenses
 In all the enemy’s attempts for my distraction
 And the corruption disrupting my trail
 Can’t obstruct me from my deliverance 

I am blessed and adored*
 His affection and devotion to me
 Extends beyond pacific leans
 All deceptions and confusions in my track
 Won’t extract me from his Compassion

I am blessed and so are you
 His love I am so eager to share
 I was extruded to excellence
 By my tutor a giant convection
 To convey his vast press

Lord, I have been blessed,
 Not only was I blessed,
 But I have been divinely favored 

Copyright © Matshidiso Mosia | Year Posted 2016

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You Inspire Me

Just the thought of you
inspires me to heights
of grandiosity and elegance

You coerce me to create
writings, poems of distinction
indubitably perchance

How does this entrancing
energy transpose into art,
permutations of heights

drifting through ions
of transposition, toughness
circumcises deliverance

It's a mystical phenomenon
that's existed for ages,
from the inception

of humanity's ineptness
through the age of technology
bolstered by craters

of existential drifting
through generations
parallel to the Muse.

Copyright © Frank Sheehan | Year Posted 2016

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Sweats and Sweets

~The Fruit of labour~

A frail body rests upon the bed; silver grey hair spread
on soft pillows; the fan turns lazily as her mind
travels slowly through memory’s winding paths. 

Under the blue sky she toils in sundrenched fields,
bent and aching, brow dripping, eyes stinging.
She wipes her face, stopping to rest, then back to work.

Sitting on the porch watching the setting evening sun 
and her young boys play, she runs her hand across the swell
of her belly, feeling the faint movements within,
anticipating the pain of an imminent deliverance.

Change of scene, and a relaxed smile strays on her face
as she recollects the abundance of harvest’s crops,
the laden crates of colourful, juicy, mellow fruit,
the threshing floor where golden straw and grain are strewn.

One last liberating push; as a cry fills the room
her husband’s anxious features soften with relief.
The pangs of childbirth now replaced with satisfaction,
she holds her little daughter in her hands, tenderly. 

A smile still plays on her lips; her eyes flicker and close.
Her breath is soft as she slowly slips into peaceful sleep.

18th June 2015
Contest: Sweats & Sweets
Sponsor: Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Placed 1st

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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A gift

 I had an image of wrapping paper
and God showed me something amazing,
how a simple image can reveal so much
like explaining to a child God shown me this
so amazing. 

A gift of life
a gift of love
sent from God above
he carefully wraps his love around us
and seals us with his Grace
we look to the day
we will see his face
when you wrap and give a gift to
a loved one
you know how special it can be
and that is how God feels about you and me
God showed his love for us
the best way he possibly could
he wrapped his love around us
and covered us by the blood.

psalm 34  in sought the Lord, and he answered me;
    he delivered me from all my fears
Those who look to him are radiant;
    their faces are never covered with shame 
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
    he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
    and he delivers them.

 the new covenant

we  are wrapped
   and delivered

thanks be to God Amen. 

Psalm 91:4
He will cover you with his feathers,
    and under his wings you will find refuge;
    his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart

Ephesians 1:13-14

13 And you also were included in Christ when you heard the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation. When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, 14 who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.

I  will say of the Lord, He is my Refuge and my Fortress, my God; on Him I lean and rely, and in Him I confidently trust For then He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence.
Psalm 91: 2-3   Amen

You are a hiding place for me; You, Lord, preserve me from trouble, You surround me with songs and shouts of deliverance.
Psalm 32: 7

2 Corinthians 1
and he has identified us as his own by placing the Holy Spirit in our hearts as the first installment that guarantees everything he has promised us.

1 peter 1 1 Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ,
To God’s elect, exiles scattered throughout the provinces of Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia, 2 who have been chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through the sanctifying work of the Spirit, to be obedient to Jesus Christ and sprinkled with his blood:   Amen 

Copyright © diane christian | Year Posted 2015

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At Dunkirk

At Dunkirk, where thousands of stranded men lined a bloody beach, hope was draining with each air strike delivered by the unrelenting Germans’ aircraft. Cold, starved, and injured men watched from shore - their few rescue ships being bombed and sunk. How must they have felt knowing their homeland was so close – and yet so far away? Horrific days passed when at last brave civilians came with boats, so it was that ten times the number of those not expected to live were instead - SAVED. Aug. 16, 2017: Double Etheree written for JPContest 6: WAR AND HEROISM Contest
From Wikipedia: The Dunkirk evacuation, code-named Operation Dynamo and also known as the Miracle of Dunkirk, was the evacuation of Allied soldiers during World War II from the beaches and harbour of Dunkirk, in the north of France, between 26 May and 4 June 1940. The operation commenced after large numbers of British, French, and Belgian troops were cut off and surrounded by German troops during the Battle of France. In a speech to the House of Commons, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill called this "a colossal military disaster", saying "the whole root and core and brain of the British Army" had been stranded at Dunkirk and seemed about to perish or be captured. On the first day only 7,669 men were evacuated, but by the end of the eighth day, 338,226 soldiers had been rescued by a hastily assembled fleet of over 800 boats. Many troops were able to embark from the harbour's protective mole onto 39 destroyers of the British Royal Navy, 4 Royal Canadian Navy destroyers,] and civilian merchant ships, while others had to wade out from the beaches, waiting for hours in shoulder-deep water. Some were ferried to the larger ships by what came to be known as the little ships of Dunkirk, a flotilla of hundreds of merchant marine boats, fishing boats, pleasure craft, yachts, and lifeboats called into service from Britain.  In his We shall fight on the beaches speech on 4 June, Churchill hailed their rescue as a "miracle of deliverance".

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017

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Two Hand Clap

I've got a fist full of Buddha,
And a fist full of Rand,
A pocket full of Jesus,
And the other's filled with sand,
That's in case I need to make some glass,
As it will proceed my foot in relation to your class,
That's a diametric description of an uncommon process,
I use it to repel obnoxious thoughts and logic,
The political storm seems to be the hot topic,
But what I see is dinosaurs in power,
Who don't want to get off it,
The ball, you dropped it,
Gigs up, you lost it,
Wings done, let's sauce 'em,
Awareness has blossomed,
We done playing possum,
You're boss, we want him,
Bring him down to the bottom,
And let's make him aware of our consciousness.

Are you really missing this?
Yo this is Excentrix,
Rich's psyche been known to split in an instant,
I represent a hulk like samurai witch,
Equipped to solve problems via the switch,
Cuz the man inside there is just a little kid,
See I tell the truth even when I lie,
Puttin' juice in busted axioms like Pie in the Sky,
"Yo dude, you know that's an idiom?"
Suck it, you're an idiot,
Guards, get rid of him!
I'm a linguistic mystic,
Suffering from a transpiritual sickness,
Where I'll always be a kid,
And live through my own deliverance.

Witness as I stab my own body of Christ,
Feels so nice to bleed emotion into the night,
With Excentrix as my weapon of my own conception,
I can justify intervention into the seas of deception,
Cleverly apply art to the lesson,
Of respecting yourself and recognizing transgression,
I don't need a stinking studio session,
Just flex my pen and in the end I'm winning,
My mental digestion invents a feeling,
That feeling going to climb me to the top of nimbus,
Behind us is a portal to another dimension,
Forgot to mention I'm the medium for the transmission,
I must be the exception because I'm good at listening.

I flip furniture when pressured,
Then turn a lecture,
Into a story told next to a lectern,
No disrespect sir,
But I'm disturbed by your indiscretion,
So curb your enthusiasm,
Before I burn this whole place down with plasma,
I got the EMP flow I brought back from the Matrix,
Excentrix is MVP for knowing when to go back to the basics,
Take it from me,
The artistic process is worth taking a stab at,
Just to prove that we're all humans,
And American Celebrity is mostly a magic act.

Copyright © Rich Metzger | Year Posted 2016

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Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Deliverance 
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: September/2014

                    e       e
                 r              p
            \ _____________ /      


Copyright © Ken Jordan | Year Posted 2014

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My Little Red Corvette

Sugar drops and colored gumballs,
An open skyline, an open convertible, and a white ragtop!
Black Perrelis, red caps, and spoked mag-frames,
Pacific Coast Highway, and her stairway to heaven!

A thousand charged horses on pure octane!
My deliverance, black rock cod, and pink champagne!
Her deliverance, Pacific Coast Highway, a stairway to heaven, and romance!
A storybook weekend, and my little red Corvette!

A white and pink plumeria flower, above the ear, and a few warm tears!
Matchbox, Hot Wheels, tracks and tracks, and Dad's Road and Track!
Boys and their silly toys, lost quarters, lost dimes, lost rhymes, and lost innocence!
Those magnificent men in their flying machines!

Liquid sunshine, Turtle Wax, Palmolive, and the softest hands!
Kid's glove leather, hands on leather, and zero to sixty in three or more!
Golden Gate Bridge lit at midnight, and Los Angeles rocking to soft jazz!
My little red Corvette, and my Mother's good sense!

An arching rainbow, a hidden valley, a tree house on Kauai!
From Grand Canyon, to Waimea Canyon, to tea with Diane Canyon!
Charley's Angels, Mae West, Some Like It Hot, from Twiggy to Marilyn Monroe!
Hey Joe DiMaggio, hey Mickey Mantle, hey Smoking Joe!

Pacific Coast Highway on any Sunday afternoon, and my choice of fresh fish!
From pink champagne, to Zinfindel, On Her Majesty's Secret Service!
Sean Connery at midnight, Mr. James Bond and a Russian scientist in love!
My little red Corvette, Hans Christian Anderson, and A Christmas Carol!

Copyright © Thomas Hsi | Year Posted 2017

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Demon In Plastic.

In grimed secluded alleyway’s it’s his key into the divine, 
Believing deliverance has arrived while he walks this narrow line,

Those eyes begin seeing reality his mind now lucid has cleared,
The truth’s of his past now a cacophony welling up within perfect ears,

Numbing out his nervous system a blind faith blanketed brain,
Sporadic lighting of violent flashes lost within his mind deranged,

Everything once believed assured now snippets of a life long elapsed,
Consigning his soul to valueless spirits his self worth allowed to collapse,

Without destination a wandering shell conforming to push through the days,
Ignoring the voices of pleas and salvation sinking farther within mired haze,

Memories taunting of mandible grasps devouring slowly his will to survive,
Nightmares convulsing those hideous features transforming beauty into 

Shrinking in angst from real vindication devolving back where the journey began,
He ties off his arm inserting the needle releasing the demons inside once again.

Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2006

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Flawless love

Flawless love,
Flawless assurance,
Flawless deliverance,
All without money,
All like honey,
Better than any.

Flawless love,
Flawless corrections,
No manipulation,
No distraction,
No commotions,
Plenty of emotions,
Nice justifications.

Flawless love,
Taking away diseases,
The captives he releases,
Never friendly with sickness,
Never! yes never reckless,
He gives salvation to those he fore knew.

Copyright © Charles Melody Lightning Ink | Year Posted 2010

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Fated to Love

Fated to Love

Best to simply weigh the heart with a poppy seed
Counter balance on granite
All its rhythmical surging
Its expeditious life
Amounts to nothing

Better then, not to believe in its enchantment
For it is fated to love
And do little else but lead
To ruin

Well-worn to stop up your ears
Lest you hear its background murmurings 
Brooding upon devotion
Lacking the power to change anything
But weeps constantly for dreams

Do not then, be deceived
For all the hearts will to achieve
It cannot
But burst inside your veins
Only half remembering what once you never held
Though its truth persists
It lays persecutory back against a lie
The heart would try
But cannot defy the world

Beware then my friends
For that muscular aorta pump and valve
Will lay you stark
And rend open beneath your ribs
And grant you no solace
Or escape

For all in the life of steady beats
It knows nothing of fact
And through your nights survival
Will stab at you with yearning
Brooking no compromise
It shall continue

Damnable heart I say
To leave me no place to rest
If I could but tear it out

For it taints my eyes with longing
Converting my hours for its keeping
Playing poker faced with deliverance
Trying to cheat destiny
With the price it paid to see me

Counting the cost in when’s
And when
When all the loneliness
Will end

Beware of when; then my friends
For that muscular ventricle pump and valve
Will lay you star-dream-gathering
And break open daily beneath your ribs
And yield to you no solace
But only escapism

Damnable heart I say
To leave me no place to rest
If I could but tear it out

Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2009

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While midnight wears the longest hours An ashen star peers to act as my keeper; Circling around like a threadbare of a glow When the bulb in the room snuffs, fades, Leaving me alone without any reflection. In a world drained by pain, somehow void Of clarity and filled with unbearable angst, Its pale twinkle seems to listen as I uncover Reminisces whirling like ghastly shadows That even the crush of tears cannot explain. Yet, my star leans nearer to understand All the secrets my voice needed to disclose... I wander around the yard... my arms Hanging at the sides: a whiff of air blows, In need of a private confession, of my acceptance To unleash such heaviness buried Within my soul: love's requiem gushing Until a closure ends in deliverance. Finally, star- guide blinks and points My reflection across the mirror of dawn. Contest: Middle January Premiere Contest For Brian Strand Reposted 1/18/2018

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

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The Tiny Seed Opened

The Tiny Seed Opened

Deep the ponderous silent beginning
Rumbled its struggle to
And break open once upon its lilting

And thought
It lifted high some resounding
Gathered itself by pulse climactic
The swollen burst of its making

And deeper driven the slow light emancipating
Rising glory
The exulted splendour
Forth rushing spreads encompassing
In the eternal reaches
The heart beats deliverance
Sings joyous cries

With life eyes

“I am here !
“I have arrived !

The impassioned apex of praise
Fortissimo to the pinnacle creation
The tiny seed

Inspired by

Also Sprach Zarathustra, Op. 30 

( Eng Thus Spake  Zarathustra) is a tone poem by, Richard Strauss composed in 1896 and
inspired by Friedrich Nietzsche philosophical treatise of the same name. 

( Wikipedia )

Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2009