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Susan Jackson Poem
When I feel a sense of upmost profoundment,
I know it is poetry.
When my heart yearns for words of creation,
I know I've created some poetry.
When my words come flowing fourth following
excitement, joy, pain, or sorrow then and
only then do I know it is poetry.
Most of all, I know it is poetry, if my heart
burns with thoughts of needing more words and
when out of my heart comes the deep impression
of a warm feeling of surety.
Copyright © Susan Jackson | Year Posted 2006
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Details |
Susan Jackson Poem
Fast not of thyself, but unto God;
do not give ourselves riches and pride.
When another soul is hurt and bled,
upon their head sits the beggars bread.
Lift up high, do not put down.
God loves sinners in this town.
Looking now the lost tribe
to be saved?
The lost soul to lead the way.
The fresh breath of air, the leap
of faith, forgiveness now the blood
has paved. In dire straits a life
now givn'. In heaven now the
souls are driven.
Copyright © Susan Jackson | Year Posted 2007
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