Long Aimless Poems
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Had just turned age sixteen.
Hey, that was really keen.
But I was aimless in high school.
Which was not really cool.
In this pose, now I was stuck.
What will I be when I grow up?
Older siblings were college-bound.
Such a path I had not found.
I asked for help on what to do.
So, I'd have a future not so blue.
Be an architect or engineer?
Too far beyond me, I feared.
A pamphlet happened to come my way.
"Be a city planner," it did say.
So, I decided to read some more.
Suddenly opened, was a brand-new door!
With much excitement, I continued to read.
What's next? How to proceed?
I called City Hall for the right place to go.
"Try the planning office, if you want to know."
I made my plan to head downtown.
There, the planning office, I found.
The director gave me an office tour.
I began to feel, "This is for sure."
Maps on the wall were plain to see.
Planning books showing what a city could be.
I now knew exactly, I clearly perceived.
I was becoming a plan devotee.
I asked the director what school I needed.
State University, he completed.
I headed home with enthusiasm.
I was now lifted from my earlier chasm.
I experienced a rise in expectations.
Was accepted at college upon graduation.
Four years later, a graduate planner.
Whatever else could possibly matter.
Over the years, I held many positions.
I helped build cities with my planning decisions.
Now 40 years later, from myself, I can't hide.
Having fulfilled my dreams, I look back with pride.
The Epiphany that Changed Your Life contest, start date Aug. 8, 2022
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Poet: John Baie
POETRY OF ONENESS
The turbid river losing the innate channel
plunges the boat in the fated whirlpool
of gyrating agony of perpetual turmoil,
the aimless mind loses the life’s anchor.
That’s when in soul I let the wind of serenity
flow with the rippling rhyme of solace.
The hazy horizon of shrouded grandeur
engulfs the dawn with the mist of winter,
in the freezing sanctum of entrenched sorrow
the mangled mind sinks in the abyss of gloom.
That’s when I let the lost patina of hope
reflect on the lyrical mirror of joy.
When the sky falls on the ruins of times
my spirit crashes on the frayed edge of despair
I create then for my effervescent muse
a hermitage in the rainbow of expressed ecstasy.
That’s when I let my broken heart rise from debris,
find oneness between my poetry and me.
February 22, 2019
June 6 Scripture Meditations Based on Psalms 141-144
Key Verse – Psalm 143:11 Quicken me, O LORD, for thy name’s sake: for thy righteousness’ sake bring my soul out of trouble.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR QUICKENING ME
Thank You for quickening me against eternal barrenness
By Your salvation-graciousness
Letting me breathe Your everlasting life’s blissfulness…
Now, I glorify You with Your magnificent greatness.
Thank You for quickening me against evil influence
By Your holiness-affluence
Letting me enjoy Your ready forgiveness’ opulence…
Now, I seek You with Your righteous benevolence.
Thank You for quickening me against dead spirituality
By Your regeneration-divinity
Letting me arise thru Your redemption’s certainty…
Now, I abide in You with Your assured security.
Thank You for quickening me against haughty pride
By Your justification-stride
Letting me come to Your throne of supplication’s side…
Now, I call unto You with Your wise guide.
Thank You for quickening me against weakening mockery
By Your power-victory
Letting me please Your heart, devoid of worry…
Now, I beseech You with Your triumphant glory.
Thank You for quickening me against aimless desperation
By Your comfort-consolation
Letting me dwell in Your provisions’ protection…
Now, I live for You with Your upholding fortification.
June 6, 2022
"Why are there stars?" Just one look into God's vast universe prompts a thousand questions. Concerning the stars, I dare say that I can name that tune in one note or maybe two, but as a matter of fact, to tell you the truth, so much of life is boring with, 'just the facts'. My first note of fact would tell you that stars are made to shine and light up the universe. Perhaps you would agree even more if my second note resounded that 'beauty' is the reason. Sometimes, isn't it fun to get away from the status quo and simply flow with the emotions? Like last evening just before returning from a brief backyard stroll, a glance over my right shoulder revealed a star staring back at me. It was the quarter moon and the evening star. No rhyme or reason nor taste for inquisition did I require, but O what a feeling. To the poor and shattered lives of war, devastation, and woe, the stars offer them a sparkle of hope. To the lonely, abused, and rejected of our society, the stars provide a healing salve for their broken hearts and offer to them if but for a few moments, 'an incredible show of flash and burn' to remind them that 'this too shall pass'. The teardrops from the wounded lives of a million children are spotted by stars on a seemingly aimless path of millions of miles and untold light years. Those teardrops signal to the stars that their journey is finished and their last task is to wipe the tears of crying children. It's only then that those stars can fade joyfully into earth's atmosphere. To a world going, if not gone mad, the bright and morning star looks down and says, "I'm watching over you, and I got your back".
06172018PSoupContest, Why Are There Stars, Julia Ward
The Christian life is no easy task
it requires you to be considered last
to give yourself to serve others
moving on forward forget the past
When one comes to know Christ
life changes in so many ways
one wants to worship the living God
listening much to what God says
God's purpose in His word preached
is always for people to change
never is His will to stay the same
for those that do God thinks it strange
So what's the point of attending church
to just drive home again just the same
then to rise as you are on Monday morn
surely that can't be your lifelong aim
The world itself is lost in its sin
you don't want to be like them
aimless, powerless, and with no purpose
rather be consistent in step with His holy anthem
("But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing.")
James 1: 22-25
(Quote:
" Why dedicate every Sunday morning of your life to going to church to hear God's word preached only to drive home and live like the rest of the world the rest of the week" -Anon.)
An aimless man, cast into the world,
I have never been truly alive,
Yet I’ll hang by the fragile threads of life,
Knowing that, in the end, I will rot.
I’m a man bearing a nameless seal,
Created with a body made of clay,
Placed in a world where people weep
When a human breath fades away.
Heavy words etched upon my skin,
With a pen crafted from the universe,
And an amalgam of burden and pain
That are inscribed upon my fate.
Discouraged from the first day of life,
When the limits were imposed on me:
A sky, a heart, countless tears in my eyes,
And a death that will come to bury me.
I am the man destined to perish
When my heavenly soul runs away,
Into a place that I cannot see or feel
From the clay tomb where I’ll be laid.
Dear me,
You were carved for glory—not your own, but God’s.
Each breath is a gift of mercy’s fragrant grace,
Each dawn, a call to revel in His face.
You are not your own—blood-bought, a jewel redeemed at boundless cost,
To magnify the Christ who sought and won the lost.
Your days are not a drift of aimless chance;
They weave the tapestry of God’s romance.
Each trial is a chisel shaping Christ within,
Each sorrow kindles hope that conquers sin.
Dear me,
Flee the fleeting shadows of this world’s delight.
Your joy was forged to brim—complete, divine—
In Him, the everlasting vine.
He shines most bright when you in Him abide;
Your heart’s a flame where heaven’s treasures hide.
Dear me,
Cherish Him—
Above all fleeting ease,
Above the praise of men,
Above earth’s gilded dreams.
Christ is the pearl, the gem of matchless worth,
The hidden wealth that hallows all the earth.
Dear me,
You are blessed—not by life’s calm or fleeting gain,
But by a name inscribed where joys remain.
Christ is your righteousness, your steadfast tower;
God is your portion now and every hour.
Dear me,
Revival wakes not by your might or art,
But through ablaze hearts lit with holy spark.
You are no flame, but grace’s tender wick,
To burn for Him where darkness gathers thick.
Dear me,
Proclaim the Lord's name! Risk all for joy that never fades away.
Dream vast—the nations wait His sovereign sway.
God’s glory calls from every tribe and tongue,
A vast, eternal anthem, yet unsung.
Dear me,
Soon faith shall bloom to sight, with no veil between—
The Lamb, our Light, in radiance serene.
Till then—run swift,
Suffer well,
Rejoice through all,
And live to make His greatness rise, enthralled.
For He is all.
Oh mighty wind you taunt, neigh awaken
while you boldly ride the vibrant surf
beyond massive strikes upon the shore.
A breath which is sweet, so soothing
after each rudimentary crash of the tide
announces your arrival to the shore.
I feel you consider your entrance, a calling
entangled with each approaching wave
as aimless clues of life beyond the shore.
I dare to question the purpose, your spirit
casting a heavenly sigh defined only by
Love's Eye who susurrates by the shore.
But duty suggests my leave, as always
I reach for one last tone as we yearn
and vow to meet again near the shore.
...........................................................
Form: Free Verse
Written: 10/03/2016
Contest: Landscapes Poetry
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Results: 3rd Place
what if a sonnet had a face
and hands aimless beard coarse
as scouring pads licking off food grime
high-heat stains that shadow pans
almond eyes lusty
but wise-looking
choppy meters
to meet
expectations
surpassed by the
you-ness of you soundly
tangential cadences and quaint
flirtations
drawing me into your world perfectly
what if a sonnet bore arms and plump lips
enveloping previous lovelorn lives
arms that carry like bird's arias drift dripping
ease straining fragile peace from strife
could it be a sonnet with clumsy
feet
distressed emphasis
and bent rhymes
my sweet
My infantile eye left me crying in my spiritual cradle.
I was a baby in desperate need of the divine hand and a nutritious ladle.
With divine guidance and nutrition, I started to grow.
My legs got stronger, and I started walking. Then I started to know.
But somewhere, somewhere during my maturation, I walked away because I thought I was grown.
I felt I could go it alone, do it all by myself, all on my own.
Soon during my sole walk, I found myself constantly tripping, slipping, and falling.
With so many bumps, cuts, scrapes, and bruises, my legs grew weary, and soon I was back to crawling.
An aimless, petulant child crying out for help,
But oh, when "Jesus Wept."
The bumps, cuts, scrapes, and bruises did not cease.
But somehow, somewhere through the pain and toil, I felt a sense of peace.
Grow me through the pain, oh Lord, mature me.
Prepare me to walk upright, strong, and free.