Our tongues are instruments of power
it has a mind of it's own
just like our hearts
the words from our tongues
can make us or break us too
before the sight of the Lord Jesus Christ
even though we believe no one is listening to us
we always have one invisible witness
available in every conversation
Our tongues can be saturated
with encouraging words of love
prayer and psalms of thanksgiving
like a bright flower in a garden
which glorifies our God
but at the same time
it maybe saturated
with bitterness, profanity, backbite
slander, criticism, gossip, lies and insults
where it become less like a flower
but more like a sword
which glorifies the Devil
flowers and swords cannot
be forced to share a room together
Our tongues should be saturated
with more things like flowers
and less things like swords
Fading flames of fervour have extinguished my once fervent fight for fulfilment and a bright future.
My future lies ahead dead, stone cold dead and lifeless, no chance for a revival- yes you heard what I said.
Waning wishes have worn down my willpower, leaving me lost in a weary wasteland.
No direction home, no guiding star from above, only a dark, perilous void filled with bitterness and regret.
Stripped of my spirit, devoid of hope- this lost soul cannot float.
I'm drowning, while you only describe the water to me.
Watching my former self silently suffer, as soulless serpents slither by.
Ignoring my cries, drifting further from my dire circumstances.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the following poem was written as part of an online poetry class; responding to the image above
We tuned the dish to static,
listening for God’s cough~
a blip, a hiccup in the cosmic hum.
The night shift drank coffee
thick as engine grease,
the kind that left your tongue
tattooed with bitterness.
We waited…
and still, the stars
bled silence.
You said, Maybe we're dialing
the wrong frequency.
I said, Maybe God’s just shy.
Then the power died.
The dish froze mid-sweep,
like a man catching
his own ghost in the mirror.
We stood there, necks craned,
waiting…hoping…
for the dark to whisper
its secrets to us.
HEARTS
of gold
will melt in
the heat of scorn
n'pride, where greed is born.
hearts of stone feel no pain,
loss, nor happiness again.
numb to sorrow but also peace...
imprisoned in stone with no release.
a heart of lead, so heavy with poison,
with bitterness, regret, weighing you down
into the dark~ into depths to drown.
a heart of clay will grow stronger
in the oven of hot lust...
but shatter when it’s hit,
fragile, it will bust.
when flesh and blood,
love's sharp darts...
find true
HEARTS.
We went once, then thrice again,
Pushed through struggles all in vain.
A mountain of trust came crashing down,
By jealousy small, it wore the crown.
We went once, then five times near,
Yet still too late, it was clear.
Regret consumed for futile tries,
While memories lingered, and hopes would rise.
We went once, then ten times more,
Took on tasks we couldn’t restore.
"Next time, we’ll succeed," we’d say,
Dreaming idly, wasting the day.
We went once, then a hundred rounds,
Through winter, spring, and autumn grounds.
Envy burned for others’ gift,
While hearts with bitterness did drift.
We went once, then a thousand ways,
Madness met us in the haze.
Chasing dreams that weren’t to be,
We lost it all, our destiny.
What am I to feel now
That my tears have dried up
And my sorrow is in a deep sleep
Wrapped in a blanket
Soaked heavy with bitterness and doubt
I lie on the floor and it invites my weight
It's chill offered solace
For a heart that is now weary
And lying flat where grief has consumed
What haunts me is the decision
To shatter this porcelain bond
Or cling to this mask , tightly
In a play with no audience
Where vows hang like ghosts
And desires endlessly echo
Through our abandoned halls of love
Meanwhile the truth
Raw and hideous
Whisper secrets too hard to hold
Filling silences with dread
The way nightmares come true
And each of your breaths a reminder
Of empty spaces that are left
Where passion once did linger
But since has fled from our lives
What am I supposed to do now
When walking feels like sleeping
Reaching out for you leads me
To only nothingness
And dreams unravel, frayed
In the dark corners of my mind
Where I search for remnants
But only find shards of pain
Victory to the champ, who perseveres through it all
One smelted and refined through life's red-hot furnace
Who was all beaten down and yet clawed his way back each and every time.
Cheers to our friends who battled internal demons in secret.
And yet sought not the "easy way out."
For they held on to life through all travails.
Cheers to the villains who cursed at us with bitterness.
For they only propelled us to greater plains.
Though we passed through the eye of the needle
We yet cherished the precious, priceless gift of life.
For life's a path fraught with despair at each and every turn, but we sought a greater tomorrow.
Ever telling ourselves, "Things can only get better."
No matter how scared we were, it was our mantra.
Seeking out green pastures in pestilence and drought
Cheers to the ones who blessed us with their fellowship at each phase of our lives.
They taught us life's integral lessons.
The evil nocturnal creature called Lilith
silently slithers into the realm of man at night
seeking the sycophantic pleasure of pain
as she drinks from a wormwood draught
of hate-filled spew
that pulsates into her veins to fill a vacuous space
where a heart should be
her maniacal demented darkness of psychotic black
colors the embroidery of her flesh of sensual illusion
where her web is woven to invite the innocent heart
into her demonic lair of witchcraft and cauldrons
of poisonous death
to be devoured and then spit out into a slimy glutinous
hellish world of abomination
where Lilith lays naked, covered in blood-soaked skin
of revulsion
laced with bitterness from her cup of loathing
from her sense of not being equal
when the one who gave life to dust gave her breath
and she felt indignant when finding she would lay
beneath the first man giving birth to her hate
Heart of Gold
A heart of gold
Will melt in the fervent heat
Of scorn…in the fires
Of pride, where greed is born.
A heart of lead
Will be Heavy with poison,
With bitterness and regret.
Weighing you down in the dark, to drown
In its depths.
A heart of stone
Feels no more pain...no hurt,no loss
Nor happiness again. Numb to sorrow but also to peace, imprisoned In stone with no release.
A heart of clay
Grows stronger
In the oven of Love
But shatters when Hit
with one careless shove.
A heart of flesh and blood
Will beat on and on when filled
With the unconditional love of God.
Letting go of past hurt, forgiving and meek,
Healing our hearts 'til Death's final defeat.
?
Hate will always stamp out peace.
right along with joy and life .
Hate is an ugly tormentor of the hearts
of humankind.
All it can do is spew out anger
and violence
and catastrophe,
filling the cup to the brim,
with bitterness.
Today
we can seek out hate,
the hate in our own hearts.
We can call it out,
look at it with wise eyes
rebuke it,
do one kind thing
for the object of our hate.
It is our only hope.
The world cannot
survive, my friend,
if hate exterminates
love.
Joy mixed with bitterness
Hope laced with scoops of mud
This journey unseen
On the way to the holy matrimony
Love is blind
So they said without holding back
Till reality set itself to their face.
"Iwalewa", golden a watchword in our clan.
Imprison it. It will free it itself.
Get along and the signs are mere.
He's a cheat, woman beater, lazy and what you can see. . .
Oh let me breathe!
Shut it up.
My ears ache.
You've made your lashes and acquiescence
Enslaved your equitable rights
You need not cry
Fighting is never the best
With faith hold to fate.
You like to quit? Do!
Pick up your pieces and refresh.
It's a green start. But not your stars too thank too early.
Something different or similar to come.
All pretend to get results
And thereafter let loose of self.
Die not in depression
Die not in the hand of a demon
You have the right to Life
Please live it to the fullest - and not as the foolest.
©? olorunleke Olorode.
The Promised Land
poem
Lionel Derbyshire
In the dark I glance a silhouette I see..
A formation in arrangement from neck to toe I see.
A face creation in mask I cannot makeout constructed with neck and toe.
Like a whispering it politely comes to fetching me.
A silhouette so devine I fully see.
In neck and toe and stretched out arms.
It is white and lights up the dark.
Moving close to me..
Floating on neck and toe.
The angel arch bending over me
Starts to pamper me.
I am divine goods to be returned to my heaven's master.
In a precious life I have lived...
There was no pre-arrangement deal and
No longevity guaranteed.
A silhouette whispers me ..
God is calling thee.
Woe I verve with bitterness and trouble I foresee.
I see a angel's gleaming face in radiant animation.
Coming from a land in all it's enduring eternity ..
It rapture's with elation.
It is Elysium.
Without protest and to glee I see the guarantee ..
My act on earth is done.
Aboard I obtain a place
Just before breakfast I go
And see..
The Promised Land.
It was then in awe
I saw GOD
And wordless
Understood all my fears
In the presence of
LORD JESUS CHRIST
my saviour ...
The day was tainted with bitterness.
fueled by concealed emotions of wrath
apprehensive over social rejection.
afraid of enduring the same fate.
The bedrock is utterly stained with blood.
No one likes to face this conundrum.
the most noxious fallacy to mankind
ethics-based feelings of guilt or shame.
Tonight, there's a tense vibe.
a foreboding of impending violence
Children have been bred to be harsh.
given that nobody seems to care.
Tonight, I'm going to rest my head.
However, tension is present and active.
pounding away at mental stability
as it seems, I'm bold with getting nailed.
I shall rise soon with renewed vigor.
and thriving considering people's faith
since I've been using subpar tools
to keep my hopes alive for my dreams.
Written: November 21, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Drawn with anger,
Drawn with bitterness,
To attack, hurt and possibly kill,
He doesn't want to play the second fiddle,
He wants to be at the helm of affairs,
To be unseated is to be irrelevant,
To have a rival is to be partly significant,
All eyes must look up to him,
All obeisance must be accrued to him,
He is ready to hew
any tree that stands beside,
He is ready to fight and restrain,
Forgetting that his end lies in wait,
His fall, like a crashing cymbal.
June 3, 2022.
Dumb people hear rumours and go all out attack
Clever folk hear them and want extra facts
The Dumb come at you firing accusations
The Clever come at you asking questions
So quick to jump to a full gone conclusion
when only one outcome is there for the choosing
When you hear gossip you allow its digestion
It gives you the knowledge and you’re now interesting
Getting involved to be apart of the drama
who cares about those you are causing trauma
just for this moment you can chitter chatter
feeling most flattered that you finally matter
Dumb people hear rumours and want to believe them
the version of you their desperately needing
a story of failure so far from succeeding
it tells you that they live with bitterness breeding
Maybe they’re no one and never get notice
and it leaves them feeling forever hopeless
this is their victory your failure their focus
their still bloody nobody living life hopeless
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