Lord, I come to thee
with a broken heart and a contrite spirit
with a hope
You will never disown me.
Lord, I come to thee
with many wounds and bruises
with a faith
you will bind and heal me
Lord, I come to thee
with discouragements and disappoints
with a conviction
You will comfort and console me
Lord, I come to thee
with a load of care and burdens
with a credence
You will yoke and share with me
Lord, I come to thee
with a lost hope and path
with a belief
You will lead me and guide me
Prayer
Is His presence
where my wearied soul finds rest
and His will is fulfilled
Is Partnering with HIm
Where my burdens are lightened
and His plans are executed
Is Bringing joy to Him
where I run into His open arms
and rest assured of my eternity
If the clock is ticking, what will we write,
in as conjure a rhythm, a soft beat,
which resonates with childlike heart’s delight?
To do so fellow souls, is no mere feat.
Save by making mind in sync with our soul,
enabled only if we surrender,
can presence hope to succeed in this goal,
which we will later behold in wonder.
As we auto-write, partnering with space,
are we disqualified right from the start
or can it be deemed were favoured by grace,
which we claim openly, is a learnt art?
So here we are then, expressing ourself,
music of the spheres, that flows by itself.
TONIC
Gin, with its memory of juniper
That imbues a certain sweet tang
But needs a slightly bitter contrast
To be well-rounded on the tongue
Relieved to deliver its full promise
Tonic water, innocently sparkling
Knowing its partnering role so well
Offering quinine as a prophylactic
Originally for Malaria in the Empire
A complement to balance the heat
Ice, as cubes dropped into the glass
Their mission, ever eagerly accepted
A cool aperitif then turned into cold
With just a thin twist of lemon or lime
That clink, somehow a reinforcement
From me the wildest faculty,
Now quite normal,soon satanic
That should leave me the casualty
Of some End-Of-Time Titanic...
Not With Men on really Good Terms,
Indeed,partnering with his germs,
Satan strides in and its lent ears
For his pleading eyes: "Have no fears"
"Satan knows man makes a mistake
And has him tied to a big stake.
Note,for sure the difficulty
Of words finding in Britannic
To capture the Gross Novelty
Of what had become organic
Like in-the-rectum pricking worms
And scrotal-sac-domiciled sperms
I plan to self split into two,
Satan Lion share plus my right shoe:
Glad release of A Champion's three...
Man:One! Let him not hang on tree.
BE CAREFUL
Be careful what you ask for
One day life is simple, you ask
a female colleague at a partnering
organization not to call you “doctor”,
“professor” and such, then she says
your name the way a symphony orchestra
tears into the finale of a spirited overture
by Tchaikovsky or Rossini and suddenly
your feeling like the primus pilus, the
first violin, the anchor baton, the broad-
shouldered stroke in an eight-oared shell
or the seminal man with genes of genius
in his jeans: powerful, confident, perhaps
dangerously exposed – a burden you
don’t need
If you’re only doing business,
let formality play its role!
Lady Of The Evening
Former Godless Adulterous Nocturnal Friendly
Sizzling Engaging Freelancing Partnering
Releasing Opposing Negatives
Manifestation Person's Convictions Trial And Tribulation Act Of Contrition Conscience Of Mind
Esteem Repairing Refresh Appraising
Shattering Enslaving And Controlling
Extraordinary Conscientious Extremest Sanctimonious
Member Of The Nightingale Nurses Corp
Date: 06/10/2019
Once the Garden of Eden
We are but stewards
Of this earth
Desecration and devastation
Remorse and repentance
Our devotion should be
Nothing short of fanatical
Beyond begging for forgiveness
Every day should be Earth Day
Globally partnering
In focused collaboration
Healing and restoring
Honoring Mother Earth
In every way
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on October 23, 2020 for contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (32) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
Originally posted on February 26, 2019
Partnering with death, poverty
Of hunger and homelessness
Seek the equality of all—Vowing
Never to discriminate;
But their perpetrators
Continue to control the odds
Favoring a hued majority;
A hued majority remaining
A minority concern as their opioid
Conditions are not prescribed—
Just over the counter cash addictions;
So odd be the ways of mercy and equanimity
When it comes to the hued like you and me;
How odd.
I’m not your average ghetto schmo,
I’m better than that
Much sharper than those dull D.C. politicos,
me just stating a fact
Another urban legend tidbit,
impo info you should know
Got laid back suburban wit,
I'm ghetto good to go
How do you talk to this Judeo-Africano
in Latin Esperanto?
Ask any of my Hispanic homies,
and head click how I flow
Partnering up with my Asian crew,
they like things going karma kismet
This is what no border brothers do,
from northern Inuit to southern Aztec,
Maybe you still think I’m not legit,
obviously you really don’t know
I got cool hip urban wit,
Me always ghetto good to go
Island ladies and Caucasian cuties,
they touch my heart on the down low
African queens and princess Aborigines,
give me love, not too fast or too slow
Arabic laughter and Jewish smiles,
my twin Pole dwellers are so mellow
Me be a singing cosmopolitan child,
Mr. Harmony be my road good fellow
Did I leave any of my global friends on omit,
holla back, yo ... let this adopted Native Americano know
This soul brotha always gotta come correct,
stay humble ghetto good to go
Underground rivers unsettle thoughts,
feelings on stable ground.
Real estate doesn't sound as real
with thoughts of hyporheic flow
beneath our feet,
out of sight and sound.
Rivers are meant to have light on top,
transparency.
Underground flow must look more like a furtive capillary
than an upfront tributary,
bringing salvific moisture
down into and across and through
deep ecological roots of fertility.
Hypostatic unions
are contrasts between understory backgrounds
emerging into focal foreground,
like darkness of night's flowing complexities
from which light emerges each day
then fades again,
like Yang creation stories
emerging from Yin
hypostatic partnering,
hyporheic flow
deep down within ecological consciousness,
subterranean channels
feeding timeless roots
of healthy real estates,
cooperative becoming.
Sisters, by far, are the closest of friends.
Though, at times, their bond may need mends,
they have been together from the start.
Nothing will ever tare them apart!
Whether it be death or life,
gladness or strife,
or war or peace,
their love for one another will never cease.
The memories, the memories, endlessly they flow!
Of times good, bad, or just for them to know.
Sharing struggles, partnering in pain,
laughing, encouraging, singing in the rain.
Constantly, to each other, love they send,
for sisters, truly, are the best of friends.
Easter 2008
What A Savior
Written: by Tom Wright
3-16-2008
I sought forgiveness for my sordid past
A past, that God alone, knew the whole
Bits & pieces that with others were cast
Had no bearing on a young man’s soul
Like a three-act play that cast one man
Depression, was partnering with my being
I had drifted long within the Devil’s plan
Eyes opened wide but without really seeing
The world had caused my heart to harden
I could barely utter audible sounds that day
Instead of a parole Jesus granted a pardon
Transforming my heart unto one of clay
This one called Jesus whom I’d just found
From my fears released He on that day
Hurtful memories that long had me bound
Gave way to insight and His perfect way
When God Forgives He Forgets
It is hard to forget our past the way God does
But we must forgive ourselves and move on.
Tom
Wafting on the summer breezes,
Intoxicating scent of rose.
Stills me just to breathe the fragrance,
Admiring how my garden grows.
In my many years of living
I have watched the ebb and flow
Of variety of passions,
Flirting briefly, letting go.
I found a love to last forever
When first I stirred the fertile sod.
This loved labor brings such splendor
I know I'm partnering with God.
Won 2nd in Brian's contest
Wafting on the summer breezes,
Intoxicating scent of rose
Stills me just to breathe the fragrance,
Admiring how my garden grows.
Time has dimmed some of my passions
And that I know is just as well.
Of those youthful, full blown feelings,
I've not the words nor will to tell.
In my many years of living
I have watched the ebb and flow
Of variety of passions
Flirting briefly and letting go.
I found a love to last forever
When Nature left her calling card,
With my hoe and spade and clippers,
Created beauty in my yard.
Gardening has been my passion,
Since first I stirred the fertile sod.
This loved labor brings such splendor,
I know I'm partnering with God.
For Amy Green's "My Deepest Passion" contest. 4th place