TO BEING INNUMEROUS SHARERS
It has been written,
“The harvest is plentiful…”
But reapers are few:-
Be aware of God’s sown seeds—
And among His great reapers:-
Sown love seeds will sprout;
Germinating Godly fruits:-
Be in their reaping:
Numbered eaters and drinkers—
Well nourished and energized:-
Be ever mindful,
God’s garden is always full;
Many reapers sought:
His spiritual guidance,
Is in need of your sharing:-
In awe-
a red-haired soldier
takes in the view,
unknown of his future fate.
He comes to Elbe Sandstone Mountains
for reflection, spiritual guidance
to connect with the natural world.
He is unaware
of what lies beneath the fog,
the jagged peaks of mountain
and the unforeseen challenges they set.
He stands in solemn beauty
gathering his thoughts,
that seem to change
as the fogs intenseness does to.
He keeps looking farther,
but the hauntingly beautiful landscape
creates more mystery then answers.
For the moon, rocks and ocean
flow together
like a mirror mirage across the fog.
And he wonders-
will the fog ever lift
like the uncertainties in his life?
When your life is always a struggle,
You feel you have too much to juggle.
Not knowing what to lose or keep,
Spiritual guidance you should seek.
I hope you know where to find his word,
I am hoping by now all have heard.
There is only one you can give eternal life,
Just cut the ties that cut like a knife.
If your life was perfect every day,
I doubt you would care what I say.
I want you to seek me out,
You never need to scream or shout.
Just close your eyes and say a prayer,
Knowing I will be there.
For you are a child of mine.
You don't need any other sign.
You will find me at your door,
Asking you to shine brightly and soar.
All will be forgiven if you ask,
I really believe that's a simple task.
Where do you work, what is your career?
Well, I'm glad you asked, I have many titles it would appear.
I'm proud of these titles, non of which require a degree.
One of my favorite titles is mom of three.
I'm a homemaker, a cleaning lady, a chef, and a maid;
a run the monsters away when they are afraid.
I'm a librarian and teacher of every subject;
a cheer leader and manager of every school project.
A counselor, a therapist, both physical and mental;
a manager of any and all incidentals.
One may also call me a chauffeur.
Some days all this driving seems much like a blur.
I'm an event planner and activities director,
and I'm putting my years in for debt collector.
A private investigator, a hostage negotiator,
a disciplinary, and a mediator.
A soul protector, security, a body guard;
and a safe place to go when life gets too hard.
I'm a personal shopper, a stylist and a hairdresser;
a go-to for advice when they want to impress her.
I'm a wife to the most wonderful husband and father;
and a listening ear when something's a bother.
Last but not least, I am a spiritual guidance;
a child of God who will always follow in His abidance.
I climbed a high cliff
seeking spiritual guidance
for it is the culture of my native people to look to the Eagle
the master of the skies
the one who flies the highest and the closest to the creator
so, I looked up to Father Sky and prayed
then, I heard the Eagle calling me
and down came a feather into my open hands
it is said that an Eagle feather is never taken
but always given
and is a deeply spiritual gift
now, I do not fear the shadows
and I am free, strong, and proud
______________________________
September 19, 2020
Written for the contest, COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (13)
sponsor, Brian Strand
I sleep at night
I watch
head surrounded by many pillows
I toss
surrounded by my comforter laid atop a mattress
so natural
eye watch
floating in my dreams
falling from the skies
to the streams running from myself
without spiritual guidance
I watch
as my eyes move in the darkness
eye watch
as I run faster then my consent
I watch
as I am attacked
eye watch
for The habits blindly,
I run trip and fall off the cliff
falling, falling to stay alive
I cry
I fall through the clouds, yes
down through the skies
falling in my iWatch as I suddenly die
Awaken
Shaken...
Eye watch as you cry
eYe watch
3/20/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
It was deep dark, silence roaming outside
if I couldn't see and hear, it is myself to chide
the urge within pushed my fright aside
time to open the gates of my soul wide.
My journeys I used to have on my own
seeking sheer thrill in my serene zone
for what I painfully miss, I strive to atone
thriving when every ounce in me is full and grown.
The lure of a wonder seized my powers
breaking through my walls and towers
an ocean unearthing my grain and flowers
weeding out what is in my soil ugly and sour.
What reached my soul was so profound, so austere
it is beyond my feel, something I awe and fear
the mysteries in books were to me so clear
and in life, through deep darkness unable to steer.
To raw Nature I carried my tribulation
along with a torturing silence and lamentation
seeking spiritual guidance and revelation
Almighty God, help me not to succumb to temptation!
And here I am, with my words touching my solid earth
carving a clear voice of woe and mirth
aspiring to feed an inner sense of worth
as an avid reader accords my poetry a rebirth.
Where did our love go within a week?
What happened to all the empty promises you promised you would keep?
I apologize if I did something to push you back,
I guess open communication is still a skill we often lack,
Yea, it’s pretty obvious that we’re slowly diverging,
And the bitter feelings I thought were killed off are now emerging,
And the many smiles and laughs we once shared have turned to silence,
So I let the agony of this distance be my spiritual guidance,
You owe me nothing since we never even established a title,
Were all my “I love you’s” just a waste, is my existence still vital?
Is my embrace still your comfort? Are my kisses still wanted?
Are the dreams of our uncertain future life still undaunted?
Does my voice still excite you? Do you still treasure my smile?
Or am I now faced with the bitter truth that I’ve gone out of style....
Either way I’m signaling for you, waving my heart up to the sky,
Hoping you see my S.O.S. without turning a blind eye.
Soldier boy
Soldier girl
Don't ask
Don't tell
Indifferent
Tolerance
Died service
For country
No one
Someone
Somewhere
Was scared
Seldom promise
Seldom tranished
Spiritual Guidance
Reciprocal cadance
Reminds me
Combines me
Died for
Us All
3/3/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018©
My soul yearns for thee,
Thou art the hope of my salvation,
My mind sees thy love,
And longs for your grace and support,
I am nothing without your love and guidance,
The holy spirit is vital oil,
For my veins and limbs,
The temptations and charms of this world,
Lures me away from the paths of righteousness,
It's your spiritual guidance,
That can guard me from the wiles of this world,
It is a joy to serve you, love you and praise you,
And the springs of my heart are alighted!!,
My soul sings you mighty songs of adoration.
As a child, broken and forlorn I climbed a high cliff seeking spiritual guidance,
it is the culture of my native people to look to the Eagle- the master of the skies;
the one who flies the highest and the closest to the creator and back to Earth,
with beauty, dignity, grace, courage and strength, there is much to be revered;
so I looked up to Father Sky and prayed for the Eagles protection and bravery.
I heard the Eagle calling me and down came a feather into my open hands,
an Eagle feather is never taken but always given, a deeply spiritual gift;
it was on that day that the Eagle became my protector and guide in this life,
he has taught me to love the shadows and the light, and to protect all creatures;
to be free, strong, and brave in all that I do and to never, ever give in to fear.
_____________________________
July 23, 2017
Narrative/Spirit of The Eagle
Copyright Protected, ID 922653
Written for the contest, 1-10 Lines
sponsor, Rick Parise
Seventh Place
Inner child, forever confused?
Puzzled by alcohol misused.
His angry dad when so infused,
Did with hand, belt and bat abused.
Inner child, cruelly accused,
With arms and hips then deeply bruised.
His ‘self’ reduced and made diffused,
Mental pain left talents unused.
Inner child, who was once enthused,
Broken by violence, excused.
Mind distorted by truth refused,
Shrouded by lies mum circumfused.
Inner child is with hope transfused
And, by sound help, self-love infused.
Where visceral doubt, once oozed,
This inner child now disabused.
(Disabuse: To persuade someone that a belief is mistaken)
Dedicated to the Rev. Antony Barraclough, whose spiritual guidance and humanity, enabled me to find hope and peace among the living.
Within music, there are two things
The bright lights in the sky at night time
and completely losing it
We keep keep abusing it
Its not that we are choosing it
Its the beat
Its the Bass, beneath our feet
All these people eradicating heat
We admit defeat
Here we will always dance
There's always that one last chance
to let go of the ultimate plan
Our fate, is in our hands
We refuse to openly realize,
These disguises
This is timeless
We need spiritual guidance
If we say no?
Would it let us go?
Our hearts made of snow
Cold inside, Its where we are home
We dont know where to go
Theres a million things we cannot see
Theres a million thoughts, we cannot think
All our souls want to be free
been stuck here, for all eternity...
hello river you've beckoned
my soul again to the sullen
null of a sacrificial lust
mangling my minds heavenly glow
shattering my understanding
of pure mirth the cravings beyond
my living source hindered so
beneath spiritual guidance
while gentle natures are clawing
to the surface of sheer redemption
as i remembered you i remembered us
that dance that way that cold calm
dreary day lucifer sat so very still
why not even making a peep
mastering forgetting
what one has sown
one must also reap
Hear across my native soil,
The calling,
Echoes ancient voices,
Raised in prayers ritual.
A forgotten people, leaving,
Their mark upon histories
Legacy.
Mysteries great questioning,
Lain outward for generations,
To wonder why?
Beneath the heavens vastness,
Behold gray monoliths reaching,
Upward.
In the circle of life and death,
As a continuing sphere ever,
Winding within it's self.
A seasonal calendar timed by,
Natures rhythm.
An inner heartbeat, pulsating,
From the earths core.
Springs awakening warming
Breath,
Or winters chilling hand of death.
To plaint and harvest, or lay at rest,
The tools of trade.
The beasts of burden are released
From heavy yokes harness.
Pagan Gods demand tributes sacrifice,
Lain upon the sacred altars fire.
Druid priests carrying wisdom's staff,
Praying for enlightenment’s spiritual guidance.
Sung in Gallic tongue, they chant.
Asking for natures bounty,
A good years passing and
Healings curing power.
An ancient religion seeking,
Answers to humanities quest to know.
Lost to times relentless pass,
Our ancestral heritage is remembered,
I'm myths and legends,
Mystical circle of stone,
Known as Stone Hedge.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.