Best Drop In The Bucket Poems | Poetry
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The Best Drop In The Bucket Poems
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Drop In The Bucket Poem
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Some people suffer a lot and some people suffer hardly at all
Some appreciate what they got some wanting what they saw
Why then the difference, and how fair could that possibly be
The answer being too immense for us to even be able to see
Some will never understand and yet others see right away
Some don't see God's Hand while others feel a need to pray
But how could this continue to be and how did it get this way
Perhaps you might not agree but there's a greater power at play
For those who suffer now eternal life will be so much different
And all that daily continual strife all that stuff that Satan sent
You will not hunger anymore but come to understand all things
Oh what the Lord has in store and such the Joy His Glory brings
Comparing eternity to a hundred years, it becomes less and less
In those tears it was He, standing by you the whole entire mess
So small is that hundred years, so tiny now you can't even see
The reason you still have fears is because today you are not free
Matthew 7 :13-14
Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.
Copyright © Vincent Flannery | Year Posted 2018
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Drop In The Bucket Poem
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They are like night and day
Always there,
Even when not seen, I know they’ll be here
Treat me like a brother, oh how much they care
How many are they?
Who do stick around when we try and fail?
To help us through the day
Looking beyond the veil
And not shun us, to betray or turn their back in the face of dismay
What can I say? God bless and a million thanks!
I feel like I owe them a hundred favors
But they say that they owe me a hundred favors instead
Often when the rainy days come
To them I run as I would to nine one, one.
When I have nothing but problems and empty pockets
Unlike some, they don’t cough up
Nor act like there are crocodiles in their pockets
Again I say thanks, but even more kind is the reply I get
“It’s nothing but a mere drop in the bucket”
For real, my heart gets filled with joy
Coz honestly it was more than just a mere drop
My great homey told me
Real friends don’t count favors
But even if I tried I’d fail, I couldn’t keep count
Which doesn’t mean I forgot
Though they did for me and forgot about it
Expecting no rewards, no refunds
Simply expressing brotherly love
A reason valid enough for me to value our friendship beyond any price
So we roll together, don’t be surprised
We get along like we’re from the same tribe,
Sharing the same blood, creatures of the same God
With or without, we don’t judge
Like a tennis ball against the wall;
In two ways we let the love bounce
I know one who stood for me to take a punch
Exceedingly grateful for every bit of love
Because little is much and much is just little multiplied
Never feel like you haven’t done enough
Because to me every little bit counts
Copyright © Fred Chitanga | Year Posted 2016
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Drop In The Bucket Poem
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Pattern creator weaving through semantic gridlock. Synaptic blockage has me dining on feedback. Consuming concepts of Id's bleeding out a dissociative psychocollage.
No Map No-Thing.
Images overlapping gaps of referential perspective all lapping up my awareness [{that is overclocked thinking thoughts at lightning speed}]
I have Become.
The Lone Madman stripping down the day and rearranging pieces my own way
DreamingDriftingDrowning in a sea of suspended belief. Jumping Juxtaposition! How to navigate such a clash of colloidal moment places?
Negation of orientation is a hidden freedom. In the Disconnect expect a mighty Vertigo; it briefly will swallow YOU leaving only the leafy sensation that is the essence of hollow. Immersion is complete. no more Self memory. No-Thing is concrete. Just a simple drop in the Bucket. This is We. This is dissolution. Attaching Desire and Control on Potentialities is disillusion.
Copyright © Avery Murray | Year Posted 2012
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Drop In The Bucket Poem
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I thank you, Lord, over and over again,
for the love within the story never comes to an end,
the now that shows light like never before,
the eyes contentment for what you now have in store,
the building trust fund you allowed me to see,
saved up for years within the heart of me,
I cannot believe my own eyes,
none of it, father, was any of mine,
but yet..a drop in the bucket of many tears,
until a puddle formed in order to see clear,
looking down at a reflection as the sun dried it away,
i can trust i won't be stepping into any puddles today,
Copyright © cortney bartholomew | Year Posted 2014
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Drop In The Bucket Poem
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I spoke to God the other day
Wanting to hear what he had to say
My ask
What is my task
Why am I here at all
Every winter, spring, summer and fall
The reply is always the same
Make a difference in a life regardless of their name
But how can I do this
When my life has been far from bliss
Why me I express again
Erstwhile checking if I am sane
For I am but one from many a billion
Some who have many a million
What makes me different from the rest
Uniquely qualified for this quest
A drop in the bucket is how I feel
Far from someone who can make this real
The answer is always a surprise
One I forget and have oft to re-surmise
No deed no matter how small
Counts equal to them all
It may make someone’s moment
Or cause them to lament
That they too have been heaven sent
To be the treasure they were meant
Each rain drop adds to the lake
This we should never forsake
Andreas Simic©
Copyright © Andreas Simic | Year Posted 2018
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Drop In The Bucket Poem
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from a young child they were groomed
a silver spoon they new not of
they were born in the gutter
there mother was a whore
selling her junk from a trunk in back of the liquor store
many moons ago let the truth be told
the child grew up wild
got a taste of the streets
viscous fangs that bite dripping blood off side
would be a drifter in the grand scheme of things
blind from the notion of what is there destiny
a life of crime they knew all to well
now I got a good story to tell
in time they would shine through working dead end jobs to keep them alive
others were born of good stock but somehow they forgot the true meaning of the streets
let the blind lead the blind then soon they would fall into a ditch
the bastard child was full grown now
not looking back at the plough
serving sin, self & Satan
always drinking yet never thinking
were they would end up in the end
a need to pretend
searching for the latest trends in there stolen Benz
at this time making lots of friends
sad heart with tombstones for eyes
does this come at any big enough surprise
then they made it to the big time at last
life was going way to fast in which to grasp
the last great American bad ***
no one gets out on any free pass
money was no object while they were on top
one drop in the bucket & they call a cop
now it's cell block number twelve
feeling like a Keebler elf
suffering deep inside they want to run away & hide
until the day the preacher came inside
shared with them a lesson
now was the time to do some confessing & trusting
then the got born again & new that God had a plan
so much for the bad *** ways
getting caught up in a haze
they became a new creature ready for life's double feature.
Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2017