Jesus, The Bread of Life, have you tasted
His Spirit will complete you, come be filled
You'll be transformed, heaven's love foretasted
Taste of The Bread of Life, then you're fulfilled
Jesus will take away your yeaning thirst
Come to His river with its wast supply
You can be a spiritual person that's versed
There will be no need to ask God why
Replenishment of His Spirit fills holes
He'll give goals for life and learnings untold
Strength given will help you release controls
He'll comfort when you need to be consoled
Jesus, The Bread of Life, says to Him come
He'll accept you, feeding with more than crumbs
Yearning Hearts Souls!
Where is the love of hearts souls?
Is it for the saved?
God knows who?
5/18/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021 ©
QUINZAINE Poetry Type
So the dream is already real
At least the greater part of it
It’s now up to me
It’s time for me to show what I’m made of
The lights are on me
The audience of fate and opportunity are waiting
Will I put on a show
Or will I kill the show
Somehow I have to find a way
To bring all the best that I’ve got in me
Somehow I have to find a way
To bring out the best of me that I’ve always been dreaming to give
The audience is silent
The eyes of criticism are searching me
The eyes of appreciation are waiting to applaud me
Will I impress or will I fail
The anxiety is overwhelming
But still doesn’t change the fact that here I am
Live on the stage of life
Now I must act
…for all have paid to get their worth
I must throw all care to the wind and fit in the cast
The only care I should keep
…should be of the sequence in the script
So here I go
This is what I’ve been waiting for
This is what I’ve been yeaning for
This is what I’ve been practicing for
Now I shall perform for the applause I wish to own
I hope you enjoy the show
She flies and flies until twilight blazes,
A swallow returns to her motherland,
Only to see joy, dimming, in mid air.
Wings, tattered like old cloths,
Burgundy, tarnished like an old coin,
Never again with a youthful look.
She flies and flies until midnight glows,
A swallow, lost in the vortex of her evil,
Not longing to be separated from her family.
Eyes, with blurred vision, voice without melody,
Nest empty, a rosary without amber roses.
A swallow, yeaning to reunite with her loved ones...
A decade om foreign soil, she fights for her beloved nation.
Many have lived on this terrestial ball
Their landmarks we will never forget;
Many lived as heroes and men of war
And their victories were golden records broken and set.
Aged millionaires are no were to be found
Only shadows of their gold we find in our museum;
Their mansions and chariots could not abound
Only blueprint of their strength we find on the wall.
The wealth of old oneday faded away
And golden flowers became ugly and withered,
Silver sceptres were broken and burried; at the end of the day
Royal lanes became yeaning desert.
Our life: a country of many things
It's fondations are bundles of nothing
Kings have ruled and warriors fought to get everything
But they all ended up in the ditch of nothing.
Our world: a kingdom of princes and princesses of fame
A dungeon for those who lived in sorrow and shame ;
Alas! i have seen serfs and lords gone insane
Not catching the glimpse that our world is a circle of vain.
One drudge thru day after day
Thought pressed on all sides
By common and uncommon trails and tribulations
Oppression of many diversity and different things
Follow in the content of their hearts
Being driven by that inner sprit
That yeaning for the completion and the far fill meant
Of the content of the heart
Which comes with completion of all
Like a carrot golden and ripe
That caused you to presses on
And insure that you done fail
Surely, you press on
Hope in for things wished for
And things promises
Promises make thru the holy sprit
Promises that never disappoint.
Hope
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