A Photosynthesis of Conversion
David J Walker
The tender plants bow under the
Sun and dance to the voices of
Indecisive winds in
A compliance of survival
Confessions of sins of omission
And confusion of missions
Pay for admission to the
Summer Social
And when called upon
Singing the sacrament of
Dissonance in words that
They can and cannot remember
The tender plants mature
Denying they are what they are
In a deception of plausible
Disinformation where
Such lies are the hiding places
Of obvious truths
It's been a long road my friend,
Don't know where to begin,
The nautical miles we sailed,
Amazing where we've been,
You became a Pagan boy,
Leaving a rumble from your wheels,
Nobody heard you're dying words,
A numb touch without feels,
Reaching high for some help,
Second chance has begun,
A cross became imprinted,
Small battle has been won,
Journey way down south,
Your life now a holy cascade,
Looking deep inside yourself,
Past life begins to fade,
Who had you become,
On a chair an answer rung,
A voice rattled in your head,
A path of Love had been hung
Life's path begins to unfold,
More Christ-like from this day,
Deep you dive into His word,
The path you take, Yahweh.
Here we are at separate
Sanctions no longer equal
A level could not make this right
An enemy is your sequel
Not scorned or wrong
But simply lost
Hurt so deep
All love is lost
And what of you
My tranquil soul
No longer full
But no longer whole
A floating ghost
In natures quest
I thought you loved
But not your best
And now I float
Among the lost
No penance for
Or monetary cost
A helpless being
Surviving less
Forgotten by all
A lovers mess
the well intended but deluded soul
took on itself to spread God’s word
the fixation soon became its mission
to rescue those deemed wayward
the vulnerable who suffer on earth
tottering on the very edge of despair
clutch at wisps of straw so proffered
but of absolute truth remain unaware
there is no solace in words and symbols
scriptures merely point out direction
we each need to walk on the path alone
paving way for our soul’s resurrection
the entity who seeks must drop away
God cannot be caged in conditioned belief
the light eternal is loftier than mind thinks
in vibrancy of staid stillness turn a new leaf
Reluctant Rogue Redo?
By Mark Stucky
If Jonah, reluctant rogue of a prophet,
had desired to visit Ninevah,
instead of fleeing the other direction,
how different would his story have been?
More succinct but less interesting?
No stormy maritime mishap?
No hard-to-swallow fish story?
No prayer in the belly of the beast?
Just marching through streets,
preaching his pithy prediction?
Would Ninevah still have repented?
Or did the whale-of-a-tale
add conviction to his message?
Jonah was not unlike me,
a spiritual rogue of today,
refusing to answer my call,
enduring intolerable storms,
crying in the belly of my beast.
Like Jonah, reversing direction,
might I yet find my path
and emerge from the depths?
(First published in Poetica Magazine, 3 March 2022. See also my poem “Whale Wayfarers,” telling two cautionary whale tales about hazardous opposite extremes in following one’s “calling.”)
(Image by anonymous on Pixabay.com.)
A Gregory Green was reached
And to him Christ's Gospels preached.
Gregory saw what he'd breached
And how trusted doors had creaked...
Some verses Green had to chew,
Reading many, not a few:
The rapid growth of a Jew
To soon offer up a ewe...
Now, Greg knows you don't say "!"
You've been in my life a hitch...
"For a I'd meet a witch,
For her death witch's purse enrich!"
It was for full repentance:
Green's grant of God's acceptance
To one give back full substance
And cite as shinning instance.
Saint Patrick died on March 17th.
So we celebrate the day with green and drink.
Patrick, was kidnapped to Ireland as a slave,
a condition he never fully forgot or forgave.
Patty (as he was known by his friends)
was a sober, relentless, devout Christian.
As a missionary, he gallivanted methodically, converting heathens
and if he failed to convert you, you weren’t left breathin’.
He could burn you at the steak for ignoring ‘reason’.
To show Christ’s power, he ‘banished’ the snakes,
It’s amazing, the difference a miracle can make.
The year 461 pre-dated laptops and even the Internet,
so, I think it’s time we finally forgive and even forget
the sad, sordid history of Catholic conversion “therapy”
because today we need a reason to drink until we’re green.
.
.
Webster: Gallivant: “travel for pleasure.”
My roommates and I went to Doublin, Ireland last summer.
In casual conversation we asked how they celebrated Saint Patrick's day and their celebrations are like ours, more or less - a secular overindulgence. But on a deeper level, this holiday, they say, is dedicated to the patron saint of heathen genocide.
Where there had been laughter, sparkling tears
Kissing naked hearts with shadows, clinging fears
Dreams silenced by the darkness, quiet despair
Erasing all the light within, doubt beyond compare
Echoes of grace and mercy, breathlessly listening
Lifting the obscurity, inspirations flowing, glistening
Whispers pleading for new beginnings, the unveiling
Satisfaction rubbing away the worries, belief prevailing
Serenity sighs through the spirit, jubilantly singing
Dispelling the tears and fears, reprieve is ringing
Where there had been uncertainty and misgiving
His sweet grace dispels skepticism with thanksgiving
When Jesus colors hearts in hues of dancing praise
He reminds the worshiper that His love will amaze
Listen to the breath of hope pouring out on those
Who know He is the One who from death arose!
Punctures the mind with thorns of Truth,
draws forth an inferno from a smoldering ember.
Erupts a Kingdom from a mustard seed
embraces abandonment upon its knees.
Slices open your heart, reorients Truth,
galvanizes purpose and awakens identity.
It pierces your hands, straightens your feet
engulfs your will, takes up its Cross.
All so God may...
Re-knit your soul in the Image of Glory and
Torch your life with the Light of Christ.
Brian's Select F, Any Form, Any Theme
Entered June 13, 2020
My television is now in the trash because it became to much ,
the constant sound of selfishness and lack of human touch .
That one eyed monster is finally gone and good riddance too all it’s lies.
As I slammed that lid and I’m glad I did I could only feel despise.
Goodbye too your incessant drone ,
And good bye to the disinformation , goodbye too that hypnotic‘I have too buy,
I’m now enjoying conversation .
Your time was had and you took to much
‘of that I am completely sure ,
But I thank the lessons you’ve taught me ,
too Have you around no more !
HEAR the quiet sea
SEE the man looking for me
ME hiding from him
HIM with simple eye
AYE his words I hear
HEAR the quiet sea
THINK the time has come
COME take life's water free
FREE yourself from sin's grip
GRIP hold of the real life
LIFE everlasting at last
LAST days require us to think
THINK the time has come
LISTEN to words inspired and true
TRUE faith follows the thing heard
HEARD faith without works is dead
DEAD we are to our former sins
SINS forgiven by means of Christ
CHRIST one to whom we must listen
LISTEN to words inspired and true
February 20, 2020
Poetry form: Lyric echo
(In Law and Spirit)
To take one’s heart,
And meld it with another,
Is the perfect place to start,
When sharing with a brother.
To break one’s heart,
In the service of each other,
Is to perfect the hidden part,
Which cries out for a Father.
No one has the trust of any,
Like a father and son,
For in the eyes of many,
This world would be undone.
If not for mentors now,
On our earthly home abode,
We would never humbly bow,
But be strangers to our load.
But to find in us ourselves,
And carry what we cross,
We must know as do the Twelve,
And ever count the cost.
Oh Lord we love the ones we hold,
While on our journey home,
And long to be as in days of old,
When before on earth to roam.
But lightened on a brighter path,
For hence our pathway trod,
We'll receive all that our Father hath,
And never depart the iron rod.
(Iron rod depicts the Word of God)
Conversion
Leopard, jugular eyed, silent,
did you pause to rest too long?
See how she pulls you about her throat
how lightly you rest upon her shoulders.
Upon what missionary did you feed
that you should be so converted?
How did you get to know
God
By reading the
Bible
Related Poems