Long Weepers Poems
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Sometimes, what you find in a study can only be expressed in the way that you walk it out. Occasionally, one can attempt to explain in words what his recent studies have revealed.
Many things that we have already learned are no longer fresh, and yield much-to-be-desired for a fulfilling life.
I must say that when I chose Him to be the one in whom
I would chose to put my faith, I did not discover him through
study or research. Nor yet was it a religion that I submitted to, but rather a relationship to which I was drawn. It was face-value acceptance and His words that both arrested and captured me.
This then is my feeble attempt at communicating the present freshness that I am finding in Jesus Christ.
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He's busy, but never harassed or hurried.
He is more gracious than I ever realized;
More forgiving than I ever understood;
More merciful than anyone can imagine.
He doesn’t mind washing the feet of his followers.
He delights in serving, not taking from, his disciples; He's so practical that he likes fixing their breakfast.
Sometimes, he answers before we even ask the question.
He's more patient with me than I am with myself. He
gives me more of everything when I have nothing left.
He weeps with the weepers and reveals himself to the seekers.
He gets amazed with our faith, and races to our rescue.
He marvels at our doubts, and loves us no less.
He sleeps in storms and awakes when we call him.
He loves to bring peace and security to me.
He commands everything to be still in me.
He offers love to me and takes away the fear.
He gives me calm and poise, wiping away every tear. He causes me to clearly see, and quiets the storms at sea.
He calls men and women to forsake all and follow him.
He demands first place in our hearts. Who does this!!!?
07102009; 080221PSCtest, Your Personal Favorite Poetry Contest. Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
Written: June 22, 2023
The hands of the clock are flinging faster,
Quicker than the Moon and Sun,
With each stroke, moments alter.
As the dance of life is spun.
Dreams and hopes, with whom they linger,
In the depths of midnight embrace,
O that alone and wretched singer,
Whose melody fills every space.
The hearts of people, full of sorrow,
Hold their dreams and fears within.
With the funerals of the shadows,
As life slowly wears thin.
Within the confines of the clock,
Midst of sorrow, the midst of fun,
We wait and linger, stagger and walk
Until their graves, they all start to run.
The clock of time, relentless keeper,
Ticking away with every breath,
Guiding us through joys and weepers,
In the dance of life until death.
But in the midst of this endless race,
There lies a beauty, a hidden grace,
As relentless as the time march may be,
An opportunity for us to foresee,
That life is not just around the end,
But times we cherish and the echoes we send
So let us dance in this fleeting time.
Embrace the joys and sorrows of the sublime.
Snapped in their prime,
hurried out of pains,
to join innumerable companies of angels.
death, a mighty remedy to allay their troubles,
their wants, groans, sorrows and agonies, carried to terrestrial plain.
earth Mourns, while angels welcomes one divinely ordained.
though born in Adam's filth,
But by grace transformed and through the cross escaped.
weepers, Your sorrows are but Joys en-masked
The seed is counted among the saints
Their maker bids their fears begone,
look through the vista of future Years,
Would you meet your seed again?
Then go in through the Door (John 10;9).
It’s the last of the snow
Spring finally arrived
Time to get ready for battle
Time to get my little hands
On my bag of marbles
Way up there since winter
Abandoned on my bookshelf
A droopy, limp blue velvet bag
But today a long lost friend
So proud, so bold and so bright
Protector of my priceless collection
Glass and steel weapons of rolling destruction
I undo the golden drawstring
Close my eyes and reach into the dark
Cloister of clicking clacking spheres
They run through my fingers
Feeling better than gold through a miser’s hands
Aggies, immies, cats eyes, steelies
and the most dangerous, mibs
Big fat bully marbles capable of
Knocking all of the competition
Johnnie had better watch out this year
Last year’s champ
Johnnie’d been lucky
A shark, wincing his good eye and
Whack, all the marbles dispersed
With brutal force they would fly
Like a big exploding rainbow
Fragments scattered on the ground
Crushing… yet really awesome
When he pulled out his mib
We knew we were done
But this year will be different
This year I’m more determined
Practiced each move in my head
Like a general devising his attack
Spit shined alleys, aggies,
Jumbos, glass ones ready for action
Aggies, my luckiest by far
Leaving for school full of schemes and ploys
On the way defiantly sizing up opponents
Eyeing the size of the enemies’ arsenal
Running fingers through mine
Challenging anyone carrying a loot
We had watched the yard for days
Barely contained our determination
The last of the snow clung stubbornly to school walls
Dry patches would proclaim the official opening day
Our first spring tournament could begin
And today is the day we all know it
Recess rings, doors open; “Hooray”
Is all we hear across the dried yard
As groups knuckle down to play for keepsies
Winners keepers, losers weepers
Hear that chittery clickety click clack melody
Johnnie is there full of snickering confidence
So sure he can perpetuate his reign
But he doesn't know how hard I’ve practiced
How much I want to earn his loot
Crush him and any other rival
Who dares to show off
Ready
Get set
Aim just perfectly right
Written collaboration with PATRICIA CRESSWELL
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
When I was one and twenty
a moral with a twist ...
They say I am the key
That will unlock the cell
Yet how can I get free
for I’m wrapped up so well
Don’t wrap me or cell me
just give me what THEY want
At first, they say they want to heal me
synonymous with 'heel', you see
rather, they wanted to fix me
like bones being picked by doggies
Puzzled to be taken apart
Scrabbled for letters to impart
I own lost and found cellular
call there again and nevermore
I am the finder's, the loser's
and the weepers, and the keepers
I am crammed in a vacant space
Can't catch my breath, chasing from mace
I speak, and lost in translation
I'm Brit, spoke French to a Russian
So here I am midst some unknowns
Vultures who'd like to pick my bones
The flower uprooted my weeds
Went skydiving wearing my tweeds
Doctors say that I'm a bit strange
Yet they study me...found that strange
I say I hear and see things
they say it's all in my head
... where else would it be
I passed all their test
reasons I am kept there
They say that I do not give the wrong answers
... just the correct mistakes
They go fishing
in a fishbowl
I am the hunted inferno
A moving target, home can't go
I'm out in the world, day and night
Come from the cold, say when I might
A marked calendar, on a wall
What marked calendar, me—that's all
Lamb in want of its lost shepherd
Last seen, eating 'lamb chops', I heard
Wheelchairs and psychiatric knees
Be ike the sounds of rubbing reeds
I'm the hushed one, who makes the noise
I picked one, no girls, and no boys
Who did you pick? I picked my mom
You did not pick your dad, how come
He's trying to be, sea master
Can't if the sea's calm forever
The doldrums' subtle current ends
We row till the sails fill with winds
A river does not rise for pleasure ...
Nor does a drowning soul
An eagle soars skies of azure ...
Mouse sans any control
I am a pearl
they lust ...
like a diamond
and rust.