Yahweh is good, A strong defense in the day of distress,
And He knows those who take refuge in Him.
Behold, on the mountains the feet of him who proclaims good news,
Who announces peace! Celebrate your feasts, O Judah;
Pay your vows. For never again will the vile one pass through you;
He is cut off completely.
Nahum 1:7, 15
I can hear.
Yahweh speaks the truth
forcefully
with mercy.
Understanding my distress
His words are perfect.
I can see.
Yahweh breaks darkness
with wisdom
and warnings.
Eternity in clear sight,
He is praiseworthy.
I can feel.
His love engulfs me.
Safekeeping
assures me
I trust Yahweh with my life.
His might perseveres.
I can sense.
He calls me to share
the good news -
Jesus Christ
whose death purchased my pardon,
peace and paradise.
petals burst out hope
golden hues of serene bliss---
prevailing midst storm*
*Nahum 1:3 The LORD is slow to anger, and great in power…: the LORD hath his way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet.
March 3, 2022
5th place, "Sunflower Haiku" Premier Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori; judged on 3/3/2022.
2nd place, "Your Best Ever Creative Haiku" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich; judged on 5/26/2025.
So conceal me
When troubles come
Soul conceal me
The horns and trombone come
Sounding in Symphony
My Lord will stand
And I will fall
I will not call nor would I were for my Father
Shall He oh will He conceal me
When Trouble Comes
He Stands Tall with his arms
With his hands He will conceal me
When Trouble Comes He's my God
My God will hide me in his sanctuary
He will place me on top above the Abyss
O'Holy Mountain Jeremiah Rock
You keep me up above all by concealing me
62/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020
Nahum 1:7
Woe to the city of blood,
full of lies,
full of plunder,
never without victims!
Nahum 3:1 NIV
FORGETTING JONAH
Nineveh suffers.
turn your back...don’t feel sorry.
how the mighty cry
in their evil-wicked ways.
mercy long, not forever…
11/8/2019
I am caught in a tortured sinful world
I believe I'm lost alone no one cares
There are bad choices I've made
Also bad choices you've made
There's troubles all around;
Troubles on the inside, on the out side;
Troubles all around;
I need more than a comfort zone;
I need a Savior true and sure;
a strong refuge when trouble comes;
and you feel so all alone;
The Lord is good;
He is close to those who trust in him;
Be at peace He's here;
You are NOT alone;
For He's here, He's everywhere;
a strong refuge when trouble comes;
and you feel so all alone;
Our Lord, Our God is ever here;
You are NOT alone;
5/21/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr©2019
Nahum 1:7
There are scanty men of tasty rhyme.
Shakespeare is dead and Marlow has gone with time,
Tennyson is under the soil and Holmes is no more;
Bunyan will never live again, and where is Poe?
I miss the verse of Nahum Tate,
A man stolen by the tides of fate.
I wish I could behold the mien of Coleridge,
Or see Longfellow musing upon a lonely bridge!
Now the uncoursed apprentices of this superior art
Have been left to dash hither and thither,
Knowing not which word to choose,
Chasing in vain some erratic Muse.
They say that little boats ought to keep the shore
And that larger ones may venture more.
I vote to labor on hot days and lonely nights,
I choose to rob myself of sleep and such basic rights
And attempt to fill these gaping gaps.
I seek no gain on this sorrowful earth,
I labour to earn some mystic mirth
When warmed by the blissful wings of death;
When its vanished the deceitful pride of breath.
Let no man recognize me for my plaintive works
While I'm on this earth of muddy murks!
There are scanty men of tasty rhyme.
Shakespeare is dead and Marlow has gone with time,
Tennyson is under the soil and Holmes is no more;
Bunyan will never live again, and where is Poe?
I miss the verse of Nahum Tate,
A man stolen by the tides of fate.
I wish I could behold the mien of Coleridge,
Or see Longfellow musing upon a lonely bridge!
Now the uncoursed apprentices of this superior art
Have been left to dash hither and thither,
Knowing not which word to choose,
Chasing in vain some erratic Muse.
They say that little boats ought to keep the shore
And that larger ones may venture more.
I vote to labor on hot days and lonely nights,
I choose to rob myself of sleep and such basic rights
And attempt to fill these gaping gaps.
I seek no gain on this sorrowful earth,
I labour to earn some mystic mirth
When warmed by the blissful wings of death;
When its vanished the deceitful pride of breath.
Let no man recognize me for my plaintive works
While I'm on this earth of muddy murks!
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