Theologians all euthanize miracle’s glow,
Like a child might dehydrate and pin butterflies,
Jaundiced eye longs to render them all party tricks,
Puts the best under glass just to marginalize!
Shouldn’t miracle God sends then serve greater cause
Might this not be a subject worth treating in kind?
If we search our Earth's history, thousands of years,
Won’t necessity lead us at last to God’s mind?
There are God taunting voices that cry, “Bible’s fake!
Written after the fact! Accounts pulled from the air!”
But where poetry lives, how can life be alone?
With Love's colors revealed, never naked and bare!
Yes, verse fleshes life out! Bone is not all that soft!
And the breath of life gives a new heartbeat to time,
Rhythms dancing, form floating, white light, no despair,
For God lives down the track in the tower of rhyme!
Explanations all languish if god is true GOD,
Even scientists fall back on "models of truth!"
Serve Him still, but in Love, not to earn your reward,
Trust His Grace and have faith in soul’s eternal youth.
Brian Johnston
April 26, 2017
Categories:
euthanizing, faith, love, miracle,
Form: Quatrain
Envy eats at my eager overtone.
Airing aspirations of me alone.
Resenting ruse, requiring need.
Festering famine, for you I feed.
Covet creation, I crave carelessly.
Desiring deeply, damn fearlessly.
Greedily grasping for others gain
Invidious intrusion, idly insane.
Spitefully starving, stalking prey.
Jealously jaunting, without delay.
Longing lust, loathing your term.
Craving prosperity, cash I affirm.
Rendition of riches, reasons resent.
In umbrage euthanizing my consent.
Tilling your toils, for me you taste –
Conceding to my monetary embrace.
Eagerly empowering an envied state.
Devouring dignity, a diligent debate.
Victoriously vigor, voicelessly vim.
Gluttony so gracious, greedily grim.
Categories:
euthanizing, angst, depression, introspection, life,
Form: Alliteration
After euthanizing Nancy,
I decided to forget,
all about that being fancy
and I think that I should quit
formulating other faces
in this factory
of mind,
no , I can't be in four places,
I must leave it all behind,
Yes my mentor told me Monday,
that this Sunday is the last,
anniversary of Done Day,
when I finished up the past,
threw away the key to making
molds of Mother and the guys,
though I have a way of baking
up a batch of sweet surprise
Disconcerting things keep waking,
in the cottage in my head
Such a sweet world I was faking
but I can't live there instead,
someone needs to do the laundry,
feed the dog and bake the bread,
so I guess it's just a quandary,
who I'll be until I'm dead.
Categories:
euthanizing, imagination, introspection, people, sweet,
Form: Couplet