Sin’s Deceit and The Place of Princes
In first it creeps Not with a jolt, But pin-like fingers Of assault, It scurries round Rather than linger, Awakens feelings Of pleasure; But danger. I opened up the door a crack It seemed harmless looking back. Should I close it For a passing prickle? Or to withstand And not
On Decorating (For Our Wedding)
Here’s part 2 on “The Wedding Chronicles,” which is basically just a bit of fun I’m having reminiscing. You can see the first poem “On Our Engagement” here. On Decorating (For Our Wedding) We pulled into the church The evening before And I couldn’t open Up the car door. “I
On Our Engagement
I’ve been remembering our engagement and wedding day lately. Close friends of ours are getting married soon, and last time we got together they came prepared without about 30 questions on marriage. I think that got my memory rolling. It also helps that I’ve been doing a bible study on
Mankind In Heaven
In Heaven joy will be so great That here it hurts to taste it, Where all our walls come crumbling down No friendship will be wasted. Bitter envy and jealous strife No more to come between us, Sisters who had once “cut their ties” Greet again with glowing eyes. A
Passing By
A broken globe, Around it goes, My view is thin But all within Still skylines bring delight, As faithful ’round we go, Each day the sun to raise And set in painted blaze. The mountains ever stand And trees with lifted hands Blotch them all in yellow Patches, then the
Poetry Is – A Spoken Word on Poetry
Listen to “Poetry Is” Poetry is For those with rich emotion Or still- where impassive hearts Start commotion. Poetry is A steam engine in motion Where pressure mounts and chugs through You- a piston. Poetry is Sublime communication Minds bend, hearts break, and spirits Find elation. Poetry is Plummeting in
On Dying With Dignity, a poem.
They say “Stage four, There’s not much more To do for you.” “A pack of pills Prolong your ills, We’ll numb the pain, But not much gain Under the sun Is left. Just run… Your best.” “My best?” you say, “Is this the way All sputtering To go? Say No.”
Store Up The Light
Doubtful hours Proved by wilted flowers When they scattered Petals, like hopes shattered Hours lasting Years, too many, stashing Up with fears too Heavy, petals that grew. There is a face That darkness can’t erase, Though rain obscure, But always it is pure. Stems stark and bare Stand brave, remember
Grace for Peter
“Satan has asked” (May it be abhorred!) “Satan has asked,” Now draws his sword. “To sift.” What does he seek To keep? And what to throw away? “As wheat.” Cast to the threshing floor Or to with flail beat. “But I have prayed,” (May that be weighed!) This must mean
On Entrapment In a Media Age
Ours is a world of gorging Half blind. Looks alright, take a bite, Leave it behind. Fast paced, So little time to taste, Seeking sustenance- “Was that a crumb That fed me well? But with no permanence…” Gnawing- (How did we get here?) On a pig’s ear. Satiated- (Are we
