All apologies required as of now,
Salvation's it's own at-ease respite.
A peace for that which we raise as we sow,
Thirst and hunger are the timed rows we tend.
The dawning accord, the day's whole hope,
To delight in night's tranquility.
This day 'mongst days, in these hours of 'mongst hours,
This coming together in joyous feast,
As our pasts' are always all forgiven,
And, future history, as yet unwrit.
We accept that time is our daily meat,
We sit ourselves down and pray our intent.
Our bounty is nothing if it's not shared,
Of promises kept, potential made whole,
For Truth is found by the Grace of the Lord.
Categories:
unwrit, bible, care, drink, god,
Form: Free verse
Oh Gentle Jesus on the Cross,
Your hands cold with heavy nails.
Your head bearing a crown of thorns.
What thoughts do you have of my sin.
Will you forgive me.
Come archangels by your side,
Come singing of the promise fulfilled.
Will you forgive my sin.
Oh God on high that made me as I am.
Will you prepare a place at my passing.
Will my sin be unwrit.
As the branches grow in the tree of my life,
And doubt wraps around me like a spider’s web,
Will this tiny universe forgive my sin.
Will the Sun the Moon and the stars forgive me.
Will the Angels forgive me when I’m dead,
Forgive me of the sin of Dread.
Categories:
unwrit, 10th grade,
Form: ABC
Notes put to page by mage intent
Attempt at acting sage pro temp
Unheard notes of songs and hymns
Unsung as yet unwrit
Using rythym of rhyming repeating
With rippling echoes reacting
Hanging ten while surfing brainwaves
On the sharpening edge of reason
Activating nodes in thinking patterns
Chiselling in stoned memories
Easily remembered by simple repetition
Pictures registered in singing words
Sunset clouds of changing color
Shaded hues of blue and red
Golden notes of symphonies
Counterpointing purple coastlines
Islands float in cloudy seas
Songs unheard but plainly written
In time to changing winds
Dancing silhouettes of sunlight hung
On shining stems of windblown waves
Of bending blending grasses
So many strings vibrate together
And in minor chord the brass is sung
By a thousand birds on cue
Crickets add a million cymbals
Until curtainfall is due
Categories:
unwrit, art, life, music, nature,
Form: I do not know?