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Best Poems Written by Edith Doherty Eutsler

Below are the all-time best Edith Doherty Eutsler poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Edith Doherty Eutsler Poem

The Rose-The Thorn

A seed sprouted at the foot of the Cross, and was 
watered by the Blood of Jesus.  
Thorns had fallen from the brow of Christ and attached
themselves to the branches.
The petals opened to look upon the Son of Grace. 
A red rose the color of His blood stained face.

The thorns had sharpened to a point to prick the feet
of Jesus, but, didn't prevail. Jesus had the nail.
A rose was born near a thorn, just like you and me.
Both will live eternally.
The rose will always bloom, 
the thorn forever doomed.

The rose is a flower that one associates with love.
The beautiful delicate petals wrap around each
other as if to protect themselves from the thorns on 
the branches.The rose have a meaning of their own. 
On special occasions, to say," I love you so much,"
you will see the rose. They are the finishing touch.

Each petal sends out a fragrance that draws you near. 
Thorns are just the opposite. 
Flesh that gets in a thorn's path, feels thorn's wrath.
The rose,  the thorn, so close, yet the petal is
protected, like our soul, a boundary has been set
from the one who paid our debt.

In the spiritual realm there is also the Rose and the thorn.
The Rose of Sharon, Jesus Christ, the living God, who
speaks, "I love you," to all the world.
The thorn, the destroyer, has hatred unfurled. 
The Rose will always be the universal  flower of love. 
Jesus Christ is Love, sent from above.

Details | Edith Doherty Eutsler Poem

Cherish Your Friends

And be kind one to another, tender hearted.

There is a legend that's been told
of a spider who was pigeon-toed.
A weaver by craft and crafty he was.
Friendly to all, that was his cause.
He knew them by name,
life was serious, it wasn't a game.

"Lou Little, Lou Little,
Why do you do little?"
said the spider to the fly.
"Please tell me why.
Can't you see the web I spin, 
to let guest like you come in?" 
"Unique design, pigeon-toed friend,
but I must get home before day's end,"
he answered with glee,
whispering. "he won't catch me."
He opened his wings, rode on the breeze,
thinking next time Spider he'd tease.

Tired from standing, waiting 'til five,
watching, hoping for his guest to arrive. 
"I will rest a while," Spider sighed.
Broken, rejected, he cried.
Awakened by a knock on the door,
stumbling toes, he fell to the floor.
His guest heard the sound,
decided to come in and look around. 
The world of Spider was before his eyes. 
A table set, prepared for him, to his surprise.
Lou Little, bending over, was very sad,
a friend in Spider, the loss he had.

Details | Edith Doherty Eutsler Poem

Searching

Unlike the story  of the three wise men traveling the 
same path, searching for their newborn  king, 
three men, travelers were doing the same thing. 
Only in that path  three signs that changed their day.
A fork in the path and a right of way.

On one, 'Yesterday,' next 'Today,' last 'Tomorrow.'
Not knowing which path would lead to sorrow,
Looking for a  'king' to brighten their time given,
Give them direction, and a purpose for living.
They didn't take time to sit and be still,
each one wanted  to do their own will. 
 
The man who chose 'Yesterday' alone in despair,
met a man who offered to help get him there.
Signs also were on that  path, "Hatred,' 'Lies,'
'Unforgiveness,' and then mournful cries.
He had put his trust in the wrong king.
His god did nothing but torment bring.

The man who walked on,'Today,'  also met a man
who offered to help him find Today's great plan.
A King at last, to meet him before day was done.
A sign ,'Pleasures for a Season,' He thought he'd won.
Next 'Money.'  The signs, so pleasant to the eyes.'
He was following a god of great disguise.

The third man chose wisely his path, met the true King 
with nail scarred hands. He had found His everything.
who said," Let us travel  Tomorrow' together." Look above.
They saw signs , 'Eternal Life,' 'Peace' and 'Love.' 
There were trials and tribulations a long their walk, 
but they stayed together and had many a talk.

Details | Edith Doherty Eutsler Poem

He Was There All the Time

When young in grade school and hearing a thing new,
a prayer to a person, called "Father," up in the blue, 
I couldn't wait to see Him there in plain view,
Perhaps between the clouds peeking through. 

Going home from school on each good day,
I'd run in a field to search, not to play.
To sit on a rock, with my eyes upward they-
would try to look behind the clouds and I'd pray. 

I never found the "Father" He wasn't there. 
Later learned He had a Son with Him, but where? 
The clouds moved on- way up in the air. 
I had to change schools and He never was there.

Years later, in the exact spot where I lifted my face,
A Hospice building to serve others, God did place.
My son and my daughter had the option by grace 
to be helped by the staff in that life giving space. 

One morning upon waking, first  thought of mine 
was, the Father, "He Was there all the time."
In His Love and Mercy for He had planned in sublime
to show me .."He WAS there all the time."

Thank you Jesus. Praise the Lord!

Details | Edith Doherty Eutsler Poem

Stop, Cried the Man

"Stop," cried the man, "Can't you hear
screams so eerie to the ear?"
Following one another down the path,
some ears deaf to the wrath.
"Stop,"cried the man, "Can't you see
the flame of fire a head of thee?"

Weary souls kept moving on
hearing the cry of the man who warned.
Closer to the fire darkness crept in.
"Stop," he cried, " I have died for your sin."
"Believe in me," pleaded the man,
"Ignore my cry, you will be damned."

"Who are you?" shouted the crowd.
"Jesus Christ, God the Son," he cried a loud.
The path leads to Hell, souls torment,
forever the pain, no chance to repent.
Stop and listen to the cry of the man.
Before the world, that was God's plan.

Details | Edith Doherty Eutsler Poem

Today Is Here

Today is taking my hand into the unknown.
Dreams before my eyes, that I had called my own.
The box of Yesterday with it's treasures that are mine, 
longing to be opened one more time.
But Today urges me on and I gently lay it down.
My heart is crying, but I don't make a sound.
Before me is another, smaller and the ribbon is gold,
reminds me of heaven and it's riches untold. 
I lift it's cover, a tear diamond is what I see,
with the words of Jesus promises, meant for me.
I put the box of Yesterday on a shelf in my heart, 
with the ribbon of Today's. A brand new start.

Details | Edith Doherty Eutsler Poem

On a Chain

On a chain around my neck, the cross I seldom wear.
Not made of wood or bloodstained from Jesus bloody hair.
It doesn't show the holes from nails that pierced His hands,
nor the scrapes from being dragged on that dusty land.
I cannot hear the sound of Jesus when He cried for me and you,
"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do..." 
I took the shiny cross off, it doesn't suit my taste.
Put on the whole armour of God, Eph:6:11-18, in it's place.