Best Fitly Poems
EMBROIDERY OF VELLUM
A clean poem composed
Thee vellum virgin
Lace betrothed in length
Your satin train embraced
Thee embroidery in apple gold
Girdled in silver refined
And curvature of silhouette
Delicate with subtle design
6/25/2017
Lyric Poem
A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in baskets of silver
proverbs 25:11 Bible ESV version
The power of the spoken word,
Can cure or it can kill.
It's up to you who wields the sword,
To use it as you will;
Defending those attacked by words,
Or helping to bring down,
The tongue can be a weapon, Friend,
Or see that wounds are bound.
A two edged sword will swing both ways,
To bring down friend or foe,
And once it's set in motion,
There's no telling where it goes.
We can but stand and watch the waves,
Of wrath that it will bring,
And hope that soon the squall is spent,
And learn from what we've seen;
But if we use it wisely,
The word can be a balm,
To bind up wounds quite nicely,
And bring the heart a song.
A WORD FITLY SPOKEN IS LIKE APPLES OF GOLD IN PICTURES OF SILVER.
Proverbs 25:11
IN THE MULTITUDE OF WORDS THERE WANTETH NOT SIN:
BUT HE THAT REFRAINETH HIS LIPS IS WISE.
Proverbs 10:19
Quatret Poetry Soup contest
Who can describe Nothing?
Clue—it’s a little tricky to define.
For you see, Nothing is Something.
To disagree you should promptly decline.
If your notion is nothing is not anything,
That is somewhat asinine.
Take a donut hole for example.
Make sure my remarks sound snide.
Do not linger If the hole is ample
For your finger to fitly abide.
If so, the hole, your theory does trample.
Has the donut now injured your pride?
I say holes are definitely something.
I may step in a hole and break a leg.
How could this be if the hole is nothing?
This is my plea, kind Sir, I beg.
A hole is not Nothing—it’s Something.
An orifice is something in a keg.
The Galilean sun smiled down
upon the dusty little town
and lingered o'er one humble spot,
a peasant's home and modest shop.
Long shafts of light fell 'cross the door
to lay bright carpets on the floor
where children played in perfect peace
about the shop. Their joy increased
each time they caught a glimpse of Him,
the carpenter who worked within.
His face was gentle, eyes were kind;
and as He worked, He did not mind
their ceaseless chatter, endless play
nor did He find them in His way.
Their laughter rippled round the room;
they scattered sawdust with a broom.
the wood chips falling at His feet
became for them a fishing fleet
or beds and chairs for little dolls,
a manger or a cattle stall.
Surrounded by the commonplace;
and yet, uncommon was the grace
with which He faced each daily task
as if all Heaven lay in His grasp.
A carpenter He was by trade;
the wood responded, unafraid.
beneath His hands each piece was formed
into an object to perform
some deed of usefulness or skill,
the needs of men to fitly fill.
Precise He was in all His craft
from oxen yoke to shepherd's staff
to couches for a nobleman;
he was a careful artisan.
Each part was polished, sanded, ground;
no painful splinters could be found
to pierce the flesh of those who bought
the items fashioned in His ship.
There wood was sacrificed for man
beneath its own Creator's hands.
Does it seem strange that He would die,
suspended between earth and sky,
upon two rugged beams of wood,
this carpenter whose work was good?
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987
Beneath the translucent veil of placidity, emerged that sound
To all is pure evil forecasting the prelude of a prolonged agony
Of flashy tear drops falling from a man abandoning his captaincy
A voice gushing through blood to veins in a body utterly bound
With the zeal of a new couples tasting a love heartily profound
Never imagining their pampered sparkle would ever reach atrophy
A persisting whisper like the howls of a one thousand wolfhound
Driven by lust, the fervent fervour fatuously never faltered my heart
Desire has simply dyed my insidious sensation with colours agleam
With ease, the prey has fitly fallen into web not using a single dart
Night wiped the eyes of conscience, sanity swept in a sea of steam
For sweet sin never countenances evildoers to venerate the extreme
Bed saved its sheets for passers-by to err, the game began to start!
© Guru Jad 2013
Tell Them What You See
Proverbs 25:11 KJV
There once lived a son who at the age of 30, telephoned his 58 year old father.
The son was distraught, dismayed, and depressed. He was unhappy, unable, and unsure.
He said to his father, “Dad, this world is an awful place and so messed up”. He was figuratively seeing dark clouds through dark glasses, and was surely disenchanted and disillusioned.
As he was describing to his father how he felt, and what he saw from where he sat, his father said to him, in a manner to offer a little hope, “That’s not what I’m seeing”.
In figurative terms, what was it that the father saw that the son could not see? The father continued to give him comfort and advice. After they were off the phone, these words came to the father:
“I see rain falling in season, filling all available reservoirs.
I see snow capped mountains, retaining snow in Winter, to be released in Spring, sending water to all”.
The father knew that he could not always rescue his son from bad decisions made, nor even shield him from life’s stinging bees. But he could always be there providing, a “fitly spoken word”, just to tell him “what he sees”.
The father was then refreshed with the understanding, that when a father has done all that he can do to help his sons and his daughters, and there is little else or anything left that he can do, he can always “tell them what he sees”.
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“A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.”
— Proverbs 25:11 KJV
Break forth in song my dearest love—you have
been chosen for the grace of God to prove
—of what is right and what is wrong—a stave
well wondrous given to your heart—will move
the mountains in your way like garments rent,
to breathe in hope—your eyes will see the truth
in faithful words of love—through heaven sent,
so rare—The Word of God will see us through;
flood waters and the flames may turn to dust.
Our sorrows deep will wander far away;
the songs of desert goats unheard—so must
we toil and worry through the lightened day?
He’ll never leave us nor forsake us—sends
a promise through The Cross which never ends.
I walk through thin veils
of colored light and carefully
tread upon gleaming shards
of precious glass -
broken and neatly scattered
upon arctic bathroom tiles.
Each sliver reflects
a single piece of your
perfect anatomy.
An arm, a leg, an eyeball -
a swollen horizontal speck
perceiving a soloist’s surrender
outside a witch’s mirror.
I cried your name
in between
loathsome waves of solitude
this past weekend -
weightless letters floating
above my bleeding passion
like starved vultures
gleaning over carrion.
Did you know the affection
I’ve smothered you with
these past thirty years
is beginning to smell
like dirty nylon socks?
I use them now to
dampen my bloated eyes.
You're fitly ignorant
of my extended limbs
and repressed sorrows.
They covet apparel
not filamented with
fleece and falsities.
Your rehearsed kisses
are dressed in dull razors -
rendering my lips
gauged and coarsely
cracked.
I took a shotgun
to the nightlight last evening
and prayed as I reached for you
through strands of tattered muslin.
I was hoping to grasp
a parcel of your fading glint
and humbly touch
your jagged aura -
I foolishly cut my hands.
Solemnly sixth is Goodness known by few who with God do share,
Costly fine and desired is its colour that being of gold so weighty,
Despite its heaviness it has a softness not usual and very rare,
It’s like a treasure hunt for “X” marks the spot and “aye” me matey.
Forever in place seven is Faith, which doth please the Almighty,
Its sweetness and colour is moving like the milk chocolate brown,
Many fruit were made better by its topping making things just righty,
Building blocks like earth wood and ores fitly framed very strong, sound.
Jesus had eight, which is Meekness like the rest in Mastery,
With a flavour and savour of none other like that of a grape in green,
Like an artist with his painting giving place style meaning to tapestry,
Being apart of something special unique supernatural in scheme.
Last but never least is Temperance having balance being complete,
Whose colour is that of bronze impressive like an armour of brass?
This our Heavenly Father’s plan from the beginning perfect and neat,
As a grandfather’s clock pendulum swinging truly free behind the glass.
I hope this has helped you in any way it can for the Ministry and Church,
If people saw our colours what would they be yellow purple or even black,
Remember your needs and the nice people, who never left you in the lurch,
For the day will come when all an account shall give and facts our facts.
by William Tell
Gal. 5:22,23 - But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering,
gentleness, goodness, faith,
Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
A Resolution for This Time
(Based on Eccl. 3:1-15)
©2011 C. Brent Cloyd
I long to see the beauty of my time
Hear music from eternal bells that chime
Enjoy earth, till this good life I sever
Look toward heaven that last forever
I’ll grasp my part in each life occasion
Banish thoughts and deeds of ill persuasion
Accept God’s design for each life season
Submit that I need not know His reason
I will celebrate life so wondrous born
Understand that death is not always scorn
Propagate goodness and wholeness in life
And uproot that which causes pain and strife
I’ll concede it’s sometimes proper to kill
But until convinced I’ll promote goodwill
Useless things I will tear down and destroy
Then plan to build, and work efforts deploy
I will comfort the hearts of those forlorn
Together find God’s healing as we mourn
Dare to dream, love, have hope, and take a chance
Embrace the moment, laugh, and learn to dance
I’ll speak with passion, let pieces scatter
Gather the fragments, avoid the chatter
Engage opinions, proceed with a shrug
When acceptable, open arms and hug
For things of value I’ll search at great cost
When searching is exhausted count it lost
When usefulness has ended, throw away
But don’t allow important things to stray
Now is the time to tear some things apart
Then with care I’ll mend and make a new start
Learn the lesson that silence is golden
Of words fitly said men are beholden
I pledge to hate what is cruel and unjust
Teach that kindness and fairness are a must
In war, anger and malice find release
But I’ll use my voice to encourage peace
Yesteryear’s events once again will be
To measure their success we wait and see
God’s deeds are good, lasting and without flaw
Of Him and His works I will gaze in awe.
The HIGH hope/ Financial FREEDOM
There one meets oneself
To offer everything
You lost it, you lose yourself
To bring it
It runs and goes round
It's silent and makes sound
Wanna make full mama purse
I am dying for it to get bless
The wise say Freedom is not free
the wise is me
But financial freedom is Pandora's tree
To grow wild, to be the shade and shadow
Setting the mark to look up and below
The love of money lets faded my purity
And not having it puts me on the casket of inferiority
I die today to rise above tomorrow
To share the tear, to clear Mama's sorrow
To have a bunch of it, I will set myself for the death raw
I felt like a garbage collector standing on the corner
Hustling so hard money for the shower
Our life is fitly when the hope is up
Am the man of the hour and rise above the crap
liberation operating eternally Unfolding a world of light
bright ideas no penny to start lost gaze in the sight
Am gonna be alright ….
Cause financial freedom is the hope
Cause that's the trophy I want to cope
Dope hope...the imagination of empty poke
You were always in my head
I couldn't sit or rest.
Flowers sprouted from the spots
of where your footprints fitly stepped.
You were more than great and inside that brilliant mind;
Were tiny specks of fortune surely worth a thousand times.
I would go deep into the mines
and reserve all the specks for now
but underneath it all
you held the rarest specks in town.
From the underground,
and through the skies and daunting times,
it's you who I found.
Flowers filled your footprints when you were not around.
Gardens followed you, and you did not believe.
You could see the flaws and you could only see the weeds.
I could see the garden and asked if you could see beneath.
Ashamed, you walked away,
a daisy grew beneath your feet.
You never saw the garden but I never stopped seeing,
and I never stopped believing
that our souls will find each other and warm our hearts all through the evening.
Jack Frost morning scratches richly
Snowflakes, a start to fall fitly
Take gander at the sky so blue
Sun spark so bril·liant·ly true
Evening white reflects calm 'n chill
Cold winds a blowing, quite and still
Clear hiber day with blinding light
Silver geese play, glistening bright
Nature her glory, completely
Rising cold weather, chortles, sweetly
Ooze with outright jubilation
Ride with passive isolation
Brilliant dusk settles over sky
Boasting in euphoria high
And peacefully spin, silent night
On magnificent winter, night site
In the first blaze of the day's dewy dew tricked.
Presently unclaimed, by intense sun acclimated.
We fitly step and wantonly break deadwood.
Our bones are broken, above than once permitted.
Each progression is without ambiguity directory.
A delicate breeze blows through plant greenery.
For the unassuming, delicate welcomes equerry.
For the quiet, blurring complements scenery.
Written: October 06, 2021
Never been beyond the shores of the Atlantic,
nor outside of the Golden Gate in the Pacific.
But I tell you, I've been places now stepped in my memory.
I've no doubt that these memories of simple places and
beautiful people are pieces of my life's puzzle that were fitly
set in their places by Almighty God. Their foundations are deep,
and they refuse to let go of me as if they are building monuments.
No, I have not travelled far, and the little that I have heard and
seen wants to stick to me like glue, filling me with joy. So, I will do
my best to keep sharing the sweet inspiration they bring to me.
082522PS