Best Outreach Poems
SACRED FLAME
Let others speak in praise as well they may
Of nature green, untouched by human hand
A perfect Eden, God, sole would defray
That we should tend unchanged, this virgin land
When He incarnate made that brief outreach
In human form participating here
It seems to me his mission was to teach
Bequeath responsibility of care
Thus we were blest with talents and desire
To build and to enhance the world we own
Set deep within there burns a sacred fire
Creativity is ours, be it on loan
So let the works of mankind be esteemed
Divinity within is thus redeemed
Oh! The generous buoyant breeze
You help the earth revolve with ease
Beaming the news of a flower that unfurls
And to outreach bees, insects and flies
Here and there, you just twirl, curl and whirl
Fetching facts of water levels of lakes
Traveling miles and crossing continents
You spread data to storks, ducks and crakes
Diffusing fragrance of the flowers
Transmitting aroma of the home food
Carrying enticing tunes of the bamboo
Disseminating whispers of the lovers
Relaying secrets of spectacular seasons
Oh! The generous buoyant breeze
You help the earth revolve with ease
The Deamon Faire
The Deamon Faire
a paroday of a novel
the awful ugly was moving slightly impaired in the fire was slowing it down
it was the deamon faire come to the home
the little child asleep in the hay
the pussy willow cat came to catch the deamon faire
she crept near the crypt
the deamon faire lumbered near the mill
the mill was turning wheel almost captured pussy willows tale
she sounded like a deamon cat all wound upp and upp too bat
indeed the deamon faire looked like a hairy bat in a suit with the tie
the cat pounced at the deamon faire and missed the splash was a wet pussy
willow cat
she hissed the deamon faire sounded just like this
a long burning howl pulled over a wool scarf then turned into a screech
the outreach tried to reach the scene of the crime was an old pond milling and
lumbering and long
overgrown ivy trailing
meandering overblown moss
the author was right up to this point and then she lost her train of thought the
end of the book never tells us exactly what happened to the
The Deamon Faire
ed,note,ed
did you read Faire as FAIR or FAIRY oh what a Happy Birthday Paroday
a real live dead poet charlax poetry poem
Untrampled Sand
Idyllic shorelines tucked away
Are island protected in a tropical bay
Below pastel skies polished by clouds,
Reveal a Shangri-La lathered in gold.
Untrampled sands, white and tanned,
Are cooled by waves and wind-fanned,
Where exotic vegetation creeps unmolested,
Claiming squatters’ rights of fertile deposits.
Mollusk seashells litter the beach
Within the cove’s curvature outreach,
Where hermit crabs upgrade shells
And birds sing throughout the hills.
(Un paraíso tropical de mi corazón
En sueños con la mujer que amo.
Gracias por la memoria
Ese viento llena mi lienzo
Mientras navego por los océanos.)
A tropical paradise of my heart
In dreams with the woman I love.
I thank you for the memory
That wind-fills my canvas
As I sail the oceans.
Thrust in the centre of the storm’s wild roar,
Oh Lord, my Heavenly Father, you were near.
I relied on you and it was your kind face which I saw,
That you mended my torn spirit when fear did gnaw.
When wind howled loud and thunder boomed and burst,
In your mercy that exceeded all bounds, I did trust.
I knew you couldn’t turn your face when your child,
Held in utter helplessness was crying for aid.
When fear and anxiety swivelled and raked me
Shaking me and sinking me into the depths of the sea
You anchored my soul to faith that made me proclaim-
‘Jesus alone is my sole refuge and no other name’.
Thrust in the eye of the storm, when I was with fear rife,
And when no one was around to save my life,
I saw you standing lovingly within my reach,
With hands held out to me, ready for outreach.
When tossed by the currents of fiery storms
Lord! You made me seek the safety of your arms.
When I was drowning in the sea of escalating pain,
You strengthened and sustained me and kept me sane.
Make me feel, you are there in every rhythm of my life.
More when life becomes burdensome with problems rife.
Over the arid deserts and the stormy turbulent sea,
I pray to be by my side as an abiding presence, piloting me.
When I see Matt Hancock spin his lie
I can’t stop sing at his pink tie
He stands there like a demon telling us all what to do
He thinks we are stupid and don’t have a clue.
Take your restrictions your graphs and your tiers
You can’t control us all with your COVID-19 fears
It’s over now we have had enough
Shows us statistics we are calling your bluff.
We can’t be free with these measures In place
We are sick and tired of this nonsense give us some space
We can’t see our family other than Christmas?
We care, cause we see how you destroy our business.
If this is not an outreach of power the world has seen
Why do your worry about those who oppose the vaccine?
The TFL Shaman- A Journey Home.
Raindrops trickle down the misty train windows,
Obscuring views of coloured graffiti,
Works of passion sprayed on to embankment walls.
Bright colours splattered onto neglected structures,
Wild Statements of art,
Arising from the urban ashes of creativity.
Serious and distant faces find the protection,
In-ear plugs and Smartphones, from a carriage,
Painted in soulless grey and from fellow travellers,
Silhouetted against stark Fluorescent lighting,
From contact that might demand a human response.
Hopeful eyes, searching screens for some outreach of love,
Social media, this agency of sometimes silent desperation,
Of outsourced spirituality,
Paper castles and empty rooms,
Designed to steal us from the very now,
This very now, that would wake us,
From a digital nightmare.
Suddenly the sunlight slips through dark clouds,
Transforming the soulless city grey
Into instant beauty,
Sunlight bounces of wet sparkling windows,
Shafts of white light scatter across sky and
Concrete Landscapes, highlighting and making special
For just a moment, the ordinary.
And against a quietness,
Only disturbed by the rumbling train,
Comes the faint voice of a passenger singing.
Awkward feet shuffle as people turn away,
But as she sings, this TFL Shaman tears down a hidden vail,
And for a moment we stand exposed, real,
Scared others might see our pain.
Next stop, Chadwell Heath a soft voice says.
The doors fly open, and the TFL Shaman steps off,
Her glowing Red hair lifting gently in the breeze,
Her Shopping bags cutting into her small hands.
Outside In the warm summer sun, a blackbird sings with all its heart,
Falling silent for a moment, and then sings again.
John Roberts
To the Dove World Outreach Center and Westboro Baptist Church
At the Sunday gospel meeting
Coded words of hate repeating
Welcome in if you're Caucasian
Enter not if black or Asian
Sheeple purple Kool-Aid drinking
For the ones who do their thinking
Giving up their right to question
For a soothing mind possession
You'll take no vino with the host
It might offend the Holy Ghost
So you'll save your Ray-Bans for
The covered drive-thru liquor store
Come sit upon the front row pews
Be born again to hate the Jews
All brother this and sister that
Unless you wear a bishop's hat
You handle snakes and speak in tongues
But you can't even spell in one
You know a single Spanish phrase
And that's "Habla usted ingles?"
You can abuse that Venezuelan
While you worship Sarah Palin
Who can stoke your fiery yearning
For a little Koran burning
You're the lily of the valley
At the LGBT rally
In the spirit charismatic
And the gun on automatic
Time to do some holy rolling
Just outside your place of polling
In each verse and chapter quoting
Clear instructions for your voting
* Title is from The Merchant of Venice - Act 1, Scene 3
I wonder what God would say
About those who come before him,
Only to use his name
To gather financial gain..
I wonder what God would say
When the first thing you do
When you leave your place of worship
Is engage in idle gossip...
I wonder what God would say
To those who don't know the lives of their brothers,
Yet find it fit to criticize
And fight down one another...
I wonder what God would say
About those who claim
To proclaim in his name
Only for fortune and fame...
I wonder what God would say
About the tongue of man
Used to slander
And engage in malicious behavior...
I wonder what God would say
To those who reveal secrets
Made known to them in confidence,
Causing them to lose the trust that was once placed in them...
I wonder what God would say
To those who endorsed slavery
Giving permission to trade human beings
Buying and selling them like property..
I wonder what God would say
About those who say they're blessed
And have experienced his greatness
Yet find it hard to follow a path of kindness...
I wonder what God would say
About our man made decisions
To create separation
Through racism, sexism and religion
I wonder what God would say
About so many things..
If he existed only in our minds
And not in the outreach of our lives
As we've been taught to believe as a child...
I wonder what God would say...
Would he regret his decision
To place man on this earth,
His decision to give woman
The ability to procreate; to give birth,
His decision to give us the ability to think
And choose freely;-
As to whether we believe in the theory of Evolution
Or the theory of Creation?
All in all it's still our decision
To make
But I've always wondered what God would say...
An Oracle, ‘’ a cautionary tale’’
The man was called upon to help he went, heart full of love, not his own
but (put there) questions and laughter..are (you surely sent) then test the
spirits was a teaching the ‘‘executive Minister’’ applied, an overriding
rule his intent! Journey down to a little old hall, seemed to rub them up
wrong yet trying (to answer that call) started too early was often the slot
to preach, a new understanding of Christians this treatment did teach, as
the Deacon changed leaders amid small slights and large. Till late in 1991
the Holy spirit took charge..! Psalms 36 verses 1 to seven thru, (n k j)
taking this note to the executive was what he must do, and feeling in a
a condition of de ja vue, just wrote outreach name not feeling worthy
and not wanting to lay blame. 3 months later the Deacon saw red, took
a knife half cut off brother in laws finger a shame, step down the testing
preacher then said, still attending church meetings and opening halls
rolls 10 years on, & the full fulfilment now calls. His son argues with blood
uncle.. Ex-Deacon arrives kills this brother with a shotgun over another
he drives, also shoots him a no more (progeny shot) then he goes to the
slammer to await his lot.!
Copyright Joe Maverick 2011
For the Glory of God & ^Rick Parise’s Oracle contest, I see that this
Contest was not the idea of a man. But Rick is being used to set the
Stage to show Gods prophetic power, the above is a true story I knew
All of the people involved, I believe that this contest fits the saying
That all hidden things will be brought into the light, I have no
Personal knowledge of Rick, yet you would be forgiven for thinking we have
dreamed this opportunity up..! (I submit this work as Gods entry)
i'd allowed you in again even thou my soul
was shattered god was quite displeased as you
hammered your dark fist against my rib cage
senseless i thought an yet you were forgiven again
even more than the last time i'd carefully packed
garments birth certificates and social security cards
while dripping tears and blood onto the blank pages
of my new residence a safe place chanted across
the empty lines then availibility how many beds
as we poured into the entrance the sign read safe
you are not alone an yet i'd left everything i was
centered in a room of over fourteen other women
quiet timid angry how we failed at making a male
happy within his own skin how he'd torn into us all
it was like the same man had beaten us all an yet
i knew only you calm cool collective when the cops
came taking you around the corner to cool off
where was i here in america why i was all races
all religions an yet i was harmed while the worse
part of my abuse was returning to my abuser
how you emptied me into silence covered in tears
black and blue an yet i missed you washing the bruises
with soft soap our children were shattered as i explained
daddy was ill he was sick he worked very hard to care
for us if we were more quiet well behaved he would
respond to our energy and love us deeply as deep
as i allowed myself to be abused this was america
oppression depression family ties became wrath
as i whispered he know's not what he does
we are loved as i planned a new home among strangers
an yet they were me i was all of these women a safe place
sorjournal truth home the harbor light inn the st angeline
christian center chaplins office the salvation army
cornerstone community outreach shelter the springs
outreach where was home in america as i embraced
you served you were ill you would someday change
abuse would become softer cycles will be broken
but here in the in this space in this place
and in this time you became plural that's all
as i soon became very small why i soon became
safe
Written by Mrs Yolanda Nicholsen
Divine God
All encompassing
Yesterday's dreams and tomorrows futures
Songs from the traditional church hymnary
Omnipotent divine God
Free from sin and adversity
Teacher and lord
Houses humble and forgiving
Each pioneer brave and bold
Pies and cakes, bread and rolls
Islands of freedom and simplicity
Outreach to the community
New clothes home spun and knit for each man and woman and children
Excellent ways of living
Each person talented and musical
Real dimensions of a previous history, simply blessed
Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
Purpose plays pun
Arc aids alarm
Now nothing numbs
Decide deft ditch
Odd old outreach
Rich rustic raid
Aid arms afraid
Churn charming cheer
Honour host here
Attend aware
Restore ride rare
Apply and aid
Desire drops dead
Embrace empty
Sense sad story
Pleasure primes plot
See stylish slot
Yield yonder yoke
Choose charming choke
Health heaps honey
Endings easy
Calm clever choice
Heavy hearts hoist
Appoint apt art
Roomy retard
Mull million makes
Suffer sweep stakes
Nowhere near now
Aid and avow
Indulge ingrate
Verse voice vibrates
Embrace endow
Mind moves matter
Ask apt answer
Now not never
Keep knocking kind
Itch inks incline
Note nice niche near
Dance doubting dear
Healing hurts here
Explore extend
Real roasting rears
Encroach expanse
Leon Enriquez
09 Apr 2014
Singapore
(Note: This is an Acrostic poem with Alliteration.)
A vision a thought of apparel
Outreach choral or a group of gather to withness a proposal
Given in mean A good deed
Sound raven to a revolt champs of champions secured witness witness Hands welcome greatness fit of a tone
Numbers and letters how they create great character
Numbers and letter how they create great characters
Gather of wind wind apose written a tilt to a vision lords grief could unfold Such lettering greek or greeting of meet to learned but perhaps
Numbers and letters how they create great character
Numbers and letter how they create great characters
Taller a ladder hard the fall but of good written or of context is words Words or that if fitting
Out played or out of time to matter
Pick a berry to pick a shore how have matter out weight tide
Numbers and letters how they create great character
Numbers and letter how they create great characters
Life shape or maybe bend to shoe of tide look to fiction look to great how Did letters just of words create or make just a sign
Or a pavement to walk
If all was said and all hold true that Rome was not made over night what Hold true of you and I
Is numbers and letter how they create great characters.
Among ourselves as missionaries with and for the migrants,
our ministry enables us to explore God’s love for all people;
it may entail a great deal of sacrifice or total self-giving,
in pursuit of God’s kingdom being shared in many ways.
There may be some problems or conflicts along the way,
but with an attitude of openness and deeper understanding;
things get to the point calmly drawn to make ends meet,
with that sharing of a common mission: a treasure-trove.
Being with the people and responding to their needs,
remind us always what our sense of ecclesiology means;
its implications and expectations that we always consider,
that discipleship is implicit in whatever forms and shapes.
Again, the role we play in different mission territories,
incarnate the charism of our beloved Italian founder;
his vision that was once focused - only to Italian migration,
has taken a new chapter that welcomes other cultures.
Indeed, global movements have become varied,
replete with prophetic signs that stand for Christ;
those episodes of missionary outreach with these people,
lead us to grow more in the sanctuary of our mission.
Yet our commitment and ‘yes’ to the call of discipleship,
affirm the genesis of our identity being drawn to serve;
that makes the difference and reveals our faith in God,
who walks with us and is involved in our life’s struggles.
Our vision and mission remain our guiding principle,
like our roadmap that keeps us align to what’s right;
for they provide us with coherence in our missionary life,
our source of strength, our inspiration with God on our side.