Best Upliftinghouse Poems
Gusts of wind
Rushing air
Enter the storm
At God knows where
Thunder clapping
Streams of rain
Thunder, thunder
Oh the thunder roars again
Run for cover
Master shelter me there
(Saw Jesse Duplantis on Daystar TV and he used Mark 4: 35 forward as his scripture to bring
his message. I have been having storms in my life. Also several years ago we had a
tornado to go by our house leaving damage to trees,etc. but no injuries or home damage but
I had had to be at the hospital for several days and nights with my husbands aunt and was
totally exhausted and my husband opened the day when wind hit the house and I told him to
close the door and go to sleep. The next morning we saw the extent of the damage and I
know that God had sheltered me there.)
The empty house murmured of loneliness and sorrow.
Its feelings bled, covered, and asphyxiated the divine soul
Of a man who lived for a cured tomorrow.
The remedy for this affliction sat alone; only it could console.
In one corner, where trickles of light could rain through.
It was a magical creation with only one goal.
It brought forth a new resistance, gave the man a better view.
With the creation he could defeat the evil pain.
Long and hard the man worked with the creation, and the magic grew.
The cure swam through the air, entangled and wrapped like a chain.
Soon the house began to lighten and warm.
The man and the creation stopped, but knew the evil had been slain.
The man took a step back; the creation began to transform.
He shook his head - it had been and always will be a piano.
The sickness couldn't touch him; all he had to do was perform.
Evening has quietly tiptoed away on slippered feet
Houses up and down the street are silhouttes
A garden looks white, washed in moonlight,
And the faint sound of a train whistles through the air
leaving a trail of melancholy longing, resounding in the dark.
A table had been cleared of all traces of dinner
and has now been set for breakfast
Doors are locked, and a
screen has been put across the glowing embers.
Two golden laboradors
in deep slumber, are curled in their baskets by the back door
The house settles
as the momentum of a busy day
winds itself down.
A mantel clock is ticking, and the refrigerator is humming with comfortable familiarity
The moon slowly makes a shadowy passage
through the windows of each room,
as it puts the house to bed...
And today becomes tomorrow...
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The rocks tripped me; I trod forward, upward to my lesson.
The winds choose not to make its presence felt, yet.
The sun bursts gloriously into the flat, baby-blue, sky.
The red brown earth held its moisture greedily.
The effort shows in pulse and perspiration,
a flush blooms on cheeks unused to color.
The house appears abruptly, from a froth of greenery.
The wind keeps its distance, as if sensing
its presence was not desired.
The golden sun valiantly
attempts to breach the houses gloom.
The guardians of house, home, and ether, leap forth.
as stone griffins, stern, etched by acid rain, stand;
earthly hounds dart wraithlike
through clusters of cluttering tomes,
and out the door to greet me.I enter.
The plaster shouts syllables, displayed in a military bent.
The house hungers for light, a broom,a feather duster fright.
The corner china cabinet displays a human skull.
Into this room walks the spirit of air, scared by storm.
God’s sacred light leaps.... only in the instructors eyes;
from crippled form, blue orbs full of mischief and the joy of flight,
reveling.... a wounded Aphrodite smiles.