Best Sayest Poems


Premium Member The Naked Man

I left the noisome crowd and entered Caabia.
All was as before, save my own increased awareness.
The village square
                            a place of near earthly sight
                            (the senses, don’t you see)
Was veiled in powdered light
                       beyond peace    beyond quiet
                 in total contrast to time’s deception.
There was a motionless    standing figure now    distant
    I had not noticed before        
                   OR
    The person had not BEEN before
    (and before when I cannot say)
Beneath salubrious trees    a row of benches
        in the talcum grass
        the way ‘round this motionless figure        AND
    a silent throng    come out of their dwellings
        (the house doors stood open)
        a tower bell chiming
        (in my mind    because there was a tower seen)
        a perfect pastoral village    as before
        only    NOW    this mysterious distant presence
I entered the scene and took a seat
    ‘neath the trees
    my feet on the talcum grass
    head in the powdered air
And since the central subject did not speak    I asked the one next me
“Who is this presence?”
“He is the naked man.”
“What sayest this man?”
“He says nothing.”
“What does he do?”
“He does nothing.”
“Where does he go?”
“He goes nowhere    He is alone in Harmonia.”
“Is he beautiful?”
“No one can tell.”
“What thinkest this man?”
“He thinks of nothing.”
“Can we approach this man?”
“WE MAY NOT!”

I Give You My All (Inspired By Reneord Smalling)

O Lord God Almighty
How marvelous is Thy name
Thou O God sit high and look low
Thou art worthy to be praised
Thou sayest “I am in you”
Thou sittest at the right hand of the Father
In my finite mind I understand 
How elevated, Jesus Savior, 
Thou hast placed me
Sitting on a man made throne 
High above the clouds 
I get a glimpse of Heaven
And how condescending a God I serve
For, to step down from such glory
Where dwellest purity and love
Holiness and beauty beyond compare
Just to save a wretch like me
It must be love
It must be endless and abiding love
It must be love far beyond any other love 
O Blessed Jesus, with thanks and gratitude 
With every cell, with every muscle
Every sinew, every inch of my flesh
Every organ, every bone
That you have connected 
With such infinite wisdom
I give you praise
I give you glory
Hallelujah!  Hallelujah! 
Amen and amen



Thanks for your inspiration sir.

Thanks4giving Me Reason To Write Mish Mashed Gobbledygook

this own lee bro' thar of yars 
   dashed analogously graced
on par how a marathon runner raced
to Macbook Pro laptop computer post haste 

soon as he goat back 
   to his domicile nestled and encased
in the bucolic, democratic, 
   and fantastic spit non defaced

woodland partially hydrogenated oils baste
surrounding Highland Manor Apartment our ace
in the hole, whence he i.e. mice elf 
   (Matty Mouse) with threads of gratitude laced

within a feeble attempt 
   to burble, cobble, fiddle, easy as gravy, 
   an insrutable letter placed
in the output queue 

   soon as all 
   the typo O graphical errors erased
and, though struggle to convey love 
   for such an endearing older sister, 

   which digitally squawking, 
   aye did not cut and paste
boot doth admit to allowing, 
   a saucy bit of small potatoes sayest 

   in ma trademark (truemark) 
   stuffing of fluffernutter (that taste)
G---R---R---E---E---A---A---T 
   (courtesy of flaky Tony the corny tiger), 
   which gimmerish aims to waste

juiced spare moments, 
   and tubby direct, earnest and frank
lemme communicate without resorting 
   to caginess, 

   but free roaming thoughts to thank
ye and Rich for welcoming a small group 
   of family and friends 
   to your Woodbury, New Jersey abode, 
page number two:
   
   somewhat near Redbank
to relish the salad days of times gone by, 
   when as kids, 
   we tricked each other with a harmless prank

such as hiding a fuzzy wuzzy Willie, 
   or scaring the other 
   with the molded Creepy People that doth rank
as laughably innocent, these topsy turvy times, 

   when faith no more 
   eroded cameraderie 
   among fellow Americans to tank
especially as the world wide web 

   iz going to fill in the BLANK
thus moments to share 
   a tasty repast did help me to crank
out this artichoked gibberish, 
   which when placed 
   atop pyramid of cranberries sank.
  
as didst this heart of darkness 
   within soul asylum 
   of papa and momma genes
to two beautiful young women 
   re: daughters, whose absence 

   felt as gloomy fiends
similar to the Ogre encountered, 
   when goose that laid golden egg stolen
   by Jack of beanstalk 
   of story book fame as a cash cow means.


Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.

Garnet Star

O! Garnet star, what hydra-like,
	Immortality
How humanity doth envy,
	Thou vitality

What sayest thou of Man?
	(Surely he would say) 
O - but lowly Mayfly,
	That flutter for a day

What thinkest thou of Time?
	(Surely he would think)
A torrent inexhaustible,	
	I forever drink	
	
Lo, but I know a thing,
	Surpassing thou by far:
Eternal life in Christ,
	Outlives thou, garnet star!
© David Vr  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member God Bless You Son

GOD BLESS YOU SON 

For all of what you have been through,
withstanding all life has hurled at you.

The strength that you had to endure,
Your faith in God kept your heart pure.

At schools, at work, with family too, 
Like Christ said, “Thou sayest,” you said it too. 

That is why you’re loved by God's own heart,
though the way was hard, you did not depart.

You are the Apple of God’s Eye,
For Him you stood, did not denied.

My prayer for you my son today,
With reward for more than I can say.

Like Kinsugi mended by the finest gold,
Your story in heaven proudly told.


Forever  Mom


What Sayest Thou

What sayest thou oh subtle breeze?
the echo'd love my soul doth grieve
as with the leaves our memories fall
 to scatter there amongst the grounds.

What sayest thou oh gentle waves?
the reclamation my heart craves
love is naught but washed away
yet not bestowed upon my crown.

What sayest thou oh blackest night?
to whisper haunting hope til light
and with the dawn the truth doth rise
to shed it's glare upon my eyes.

What sayest thou beloved one?
what mercy's thine for what's undone
my love unworthy for reclaim
yet speaks my heart each day thy name.

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.

Autumn's Child

Some shall strive against your child yet never to prevail... 
Not in this life nor evermore; for, I will be with you, sayest
The Lord of Host, both heaven as earth ? Skipping joyfully past 
Her daisies through love's meadow Genavieve holding, baby's hand
Whileas bluebirds glide amidst tangerine skies bittersweet his red robin
Sings, a noteful refrain ? Weeping willows, laughing at time's tales....
Ceramic soldiers draped of red white and blue; blowing kisses to her truth ?
Infants with their starry eyes climbing mountains they'll gaze while freedom
She rings resounding bells, about this valley below ? Majestic's, horse in pale's
Long suffering, to beckon these crimson winds waving goodbye her four corners..
A spindrift it's mist; beauty, crossing celestials new found tides ? His girl's brushing
Life's golden locks from her rosebud cheeks and he; dashing past dreams they breathe.

Sleeping Beauty

As starlight thaws its faded rays,

And moon unveils its hidden face,

Pray and read God’s holy scripts,

Then sweetly dream as I watchest thee.

 

Chivalry’s steel can’t block love’s blade,

Knights have fallen for thee my dame;

Yet, in sleep thou sayest this,

“I do lovest thee and only thee.”

 

Now I know that our souls aren’t twain,

They are so subtly intertwined;

Our hearts are ours, sweet 'Rylynn',

Thou art for me and I am for thee.

 

As night time falls with faded rays,

And ev’ning stars shine forth with grace,

Dream in peace sleeping beauty,

Never forget, I do lovest thee.


- written on October 24th, 2016

Autumn's Child

Some shall strive against your child yet never to prevail ?
Not in this life nor evermore; for, I will be with you, sayest
The Lord of Host, both heaven as earth ? Skipping joyfully past 
Her daisies through love's meadow Genavieve holding, baby's hand
Whileas bluebirds glide amidst tangerine skies bittersweet his red robin
Sings, a noteful refrain ? Weeping willows, laughing at time's tales.... 
Ceramic soldiers draped of red white and blue; blowing kisses to her truth 
Infants with their starry eyes climbing mountains they'll gaze while freedom
She rings resounding bells, about this valley below ? Majestic's, horse in pale's
Long suffering, to beckon these crimson winds waving goodbye her four corners..
A spindrift it's mist; beauty, crossing celestials new found tides ? Baby girl, brushing
Life's golden locks from her rosebud cheeks and he; dashing past dreams, they breathe.

Premium Member PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR TEACHING US RIGHTLY

October 31 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Luke 20

Key Verse – Luke 20:21 And they asked him, saying, Master, we know that thou sayest and teachest rightly, neither acceptest thou the person of any, but teachest the way of God truly.

PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR TEACHING US RIGHTLY

Praise be to God for teaching us rightly; thus we must:
Acknowledge His authority along with His assurance
Appreciate His answers against apprehensions
Apply His affirmations without alterations
Adhere to His approval amidst appraisal
Ascertain His affairs with awareness
Admire His acts along amazement
Assert His accomplishments  

Luke 20:25 Praise be to the Lord for enabling us
to render unto Him the things which is His:
Being the best by His bestowments 
Becoming a blessing for His business
Blooming along benefits by His bounty
Beaming with brightness through His bliss
Building boldness-blocks upon His bracing brand
Bearing burdens by His backing-up against boastfulness
Binding blunders and blames that break beauty-blossoms

Luke 20:38 Praise be to the Saviour 
for He is the God the living Who: 
Calls us for complete consecration 
Charges us by His commandments
Cleanses us through His cross’ cost
Comforts us along His cheerfulness 
Challenges us for our commitment
Cares for us with His compassion
Covers us against calamities. Amen!

October 31, 2024

Premium Member My God, Thank You For Bearing Witness Unto Me Your Truth

October 18 Scripture Meditations Based on John 18-19

Key Verse – John 18:37 … Jesus answered, Thou sayest that I am a king. To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice.

MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR BEARING WITNESS UNTO ME YOUR TRUTH

Thank You for bearing witness unto me Your truth-prominence
To enlighten me about wisdom’s prevalence
Thru Your Word’s teaching insistence
Toward salvation’s security-providence against doubt’s emergence.

Thank You for bearing witness unto me Your truth-assurance
To protect me from ignorance-furtherance
Thru Your precepts’ preaching perseverance
Toward godliness’ work performance against falsity’s endurance.

Thank You for bearing witness unto me Your truth-forces
To perfect me along instructions’ resources
Thru Your statutes’ establishing success
Toward humility’s learning experiences against rebellion curses.

Thank You for bearing witness unto me Your truth-steadfastness
To uphold me with standards’ trustworthiness
Thru Your testimonies’ affirming righteousness
Toward holiness’ fruitful practice against selfish haughtiness.

Thank You for bearing witness unto me Your truth-authority
To guide me around Scriptures’ certainty
Thru Your laws’ controlling sovereignty
Toward submissiveness’ sacrifice against worldliness’ affinity.

Thank You for bearing witness unto me Your truth-light
To brighten me inside fellowship’s delight
Thru Your promises’ radiating sight
Toward stewardship’s faithfulness against backsliding blight.

Thank You for bearing witness unto me Your truth-goal
To direct me atop servanthood’s pole
Thru Your purposes’ transforming role
Toward spirituality’s endeavour-fervency against barrenness-hole.

October 18, 2022

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