Deborah Poems | Examples

Deborah

 In days of old, she stood proud and tall 
 Blessed among women who heard the call 
 Held the Scales of Justice in each hand 
 Prophetess of Israel's threatened land 
 Stood above the high status of men 
 Led Barak's fierce battle there and then 
 Triumph by a woman was declared 
 No other person's feat has compared 
 Passed judgements beneath a date palm tree  Woman of status, men bent the knee 
 Hear songs of wisdom that bear her name  Scribed in the biblical hall of fame

Deborah

Deborah

Mother in Israel, clothed in armor
Hill country courtroom ‘neath her lush palm tree,
Judges disputes between landlords and farmers
Judgements, like sweet dates, God's chosen agree.

Clothed by prophecy, Daughter of the Lord
Feeds Israel on God’s bread of mercy
A hunger for fairness – justice restored -
Lappidoth’s wife, resolves controversies.

Hears on the wide plain, iron chariots thunder
To end pagan rule, her wisdom now taught; 
Song of praise rises, sung from her wonder,
Victory comes from God’s plan that she sought.

Deborah Et Al

DEBORAH &CO
Women of the world may
lead,teach and oversee.
Deborah a leader upon God’s
call with Miriam & Esther ,
females to name the famou three.

In later times these four
Anna,Phoebe,Priscilla
& Junia and many more
all freed by Jesus’
from  patriarchal law.

In Him we see neither Greek
Gentile male female or the unfree.

Inspired by Gal 2:28 and Gen 2:18

Debra Or Deborah

Is she Debra or Deborah?
Debra suits her best
Although she has an aura
Her name could be Deborah.

Debra sounds sweeter,
I'd like to meet her,
Debra or Deborah,
You can't ignore her

She is a poet,
That's how we met.
She will go far in writing poetry,
I bet.

She has a knack,
By putting things right,
Pages and pages
Of words that delight.

I enjoy reading her poetry,
I try most days
Her foresight and understanding,
It blows me away.

If I could see into the future,
After taking a long look
I am confident I would see
The name Deb M on the cover of a book.

Ode To Deborah

Her hair would fan out in the wind
She would laugh, running her fingers through it
Her eyes would sparkle seeing a friend
With all my buddies, she was a big hit.

But it was her heart that captured me
She was sweet and good, tried and true
Principled, she valued the finer things in life
She said, “I’ll gladly share my life with you!”

For thirty-five years she was my soulmate
Never being selfish, uncaring, or unkind
From our first exciting adventure together
She always had our well-being in mind.

She was special in the best kinds of ways
Our lives moved along smoothly together,
She worked hard to make our marriage great
I’ll love my Deborah for ever and ever.

Written April 2, 2022
[Read on BlogTalkRadio/Late Night Poets
by the poet on April 18, 2022]

Deborah Rozeboom - Favorite Teacher

During one year of my high school (I can’t remember which),
Everything was beautiful in one particular class.
Books were not required.
Only imagination and creativity were
Revered!
An outstanding teacher fresh out of college
Held me enraptured that one entire semester.

Rather than drone on with lectures, she inspired us to
Own our uniqueness!
Zestfully she approached
Each “teaching” moment with interesting lessons.
By having us sit in a circle really listening to one another, she
Opened up our minds, allowing us to voice
Our opinions and then express them through descriptive writing.
Much appreciation I have for the amazing teaching of Ms. Rozeboom.

Oct. 20, 2019 
for Chantelle Anne Cooke's "Favorite Teacher or Professor" Poetry Contest

Deborah

De bor' ah is her Congo name,
To mispronounce it such a shame,
For few would read and say it right,
I asked: a sweet smile brought to light!
My travels though suggested in,
But butterflies? To trap's a sin! 

'Swahili' countries (1) borders share
With what was Congo, now Zaire,
With language prone to flit about
No border's safe for the devout,
And love roams free to find its match,
My guess! She would be quite a catch!

Sweet stranger, met in stranger land,
My poetry extends its hand,
All poems, garlands at your feet:
Who dreamed that old and young would meet?
Now simple verse marks simple cause,
A serendipitous life pause!


Brian Johnston
20th of January 2019

Poet's Notes:
(1) I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Tanzania
from 1964-1966 and still speak some Swahili
though I have little chance to use it usually. 
Deborah, it turns out, knows some too! What 
fun life is!

Deborah

I love you, and I will bend to satisfy you. But to be a plant when I am a tree, that I can never be.

The Song of Deborah

Formed from the seed of love their feelings prime,
a girl child was woven heroine,
biblical prophetess in time;
Deborah was such, the name chosen, mine.

Like a lightening bolt was she conceived,
a joining of aspirant souls,
seeking other primal roles,
into controversy; she was received.

This fiery woman, a rousing Queen Bee
Debbie was raised, the mothering maid.
A leader, biblical judge conveyed
hers the responsibility to creed.

Matriarch of Jews, she, from the tribe Ephraim,
A mother of Israel was she.
The equal of every he,
This, the burden given me, by name branded. 

Upon the shoulders of such a frail form
this ancestral burden was laid.
The unknown outcome heaven made
all of life is tested when Deb "bees" are born.

date 4/17/15

Happy Birthday Deborah Shiells

It’s Deborah’s birthday today -  I think she’s twenty one
I’m lucky to have found her, she shines like the morning sun

She’s always here to leave a lovely comment on our work
It’s something she enjoys not a task she will ever shirk

She is fantastic friend to me in keeping my spirits high
Saying wonderful words to me and my confidence does fly

Deborah you truly are a special friend
We will be friends to the very end

Hugs as ever Jan xxxxxxx

Jan Allison
31st May 2014

The Nemesis of Deborah

She saw the face of Judas in him.
The bearded kiss festered no truth
and the metallic breath
exhaled putrid faithfulness.
The trampled petals spoor no lusting stares, 
redolent no more
even as the tongue creeps by the shoulders.

The razors have summoned from the stinking room!
A slit in the neck 
could rhythmically go by the thrusts unnoticed
But the chorus of the beasts
as shrill as the gongs of hell
maimed vengeance yet
not in the loss of blood will you die.
Not in my hands.

His demonic pleasures went on as the voodoo doll
resurrected in the beat of my own gongs.
Keep stirring as this spindle rouses my anathema!
his chest hairs
pint of blood
vulture’s beak
stallion’s tails
bobcat’s eye
dead evergreen
Deborah’s tears.
Stir and stir and stir!
Murmur satan’s prayer
mana mana mana boo!
ruba ruba ruba hoo!
Count the sands of the transient hourglass
expiring ‘fore tic tac sound.
Now her man froze,
bulging eyes, blackened pulse!


‘tis freedom, Deborah!

Free.

Doomed.



©03-06-13

Deborah

Deborah:  the name I’ve grown into.

I am also called seeker, dreamer, believer, ever hopeful;
	For I am all these things.

Helen and John, grandparents extraordinaire, 
	Their imprint strong upon me as though they truly were my parents.

Deborah:  lover of words, of ideals, of the beautiful and the profound.

Truth, honor and integrity - these are my touchstones.

Cowardice, dishonor and mendacity - these are my fears.

Someday you may see standing in the bow of a boat, 
	Facing Kalvoy, Norway, island of my ancestors.

Someday you may see me walking a beach in Greece, 
	Barefoot, bare face turned up to the sky, daring the sun. 

Someday you may see me striding the moors, 
	Unpretentiously holding a walking stick and wearing English wool.
 
Deborah:  resident of St. Paul, Minnesota,
	Land of 10,000 lakes, northern lights, frozen winters, hot summer nights.

Radke:  the name I chose.

For Deborah Guzzi (A Poet and a True Friend)

My mind like a hand turned up before the eye
Palm bare, empty as a desert air
Found no words, for every fresh brook was dry
And I was left brimmed with care

But then I read a love note to man in absence
Where the flowers bloom wild
And felt a sprout quicken on a dew of evidence
So with the drought I reconciled

And for your love I scrape the page with my pen
And tell my soul to wring a memory
And make love flock to you, my sister, friend
For every frfiendhsip tells a history.

Deborah

.
A 
Wife
Dwelt
Under the
Palm Tree of Deborah
Prophetess who called Barak come
Ask why he had not obeyed God's command...for she knew
He said he would obey if she Deborah would go with him to fight the fierce battle

Sometimes (Revised For Deborah Guzzi)

Sometimes all it takes is an ideal.
Something in my mind 
spins the wheel.
Then words on paper
wait for more words.
Speaking with my mouth
more words to be heard.
Are they rhyming?
Are they absurd?
I bow my head 
and to God I pray.
"What would you have me to say?"
I think of the humble,
those who have not.
I think of the government,
that does'nt do squat.
I think of the churchs,
who preach of goodness
but don't believe in miracles
as one of it's uses.
I think about the falseness
of fairy tales.
And how deep inside
we still believe them to be true.
And i think about tomarrow
what will it bring me and you.
Yesterday is gone
but it's has found a place in my mind.
On the paper I tell my memory
and it gets them every time.

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