Thursday, November 21

Browsing: Poetry

she was strongbrooking no obstacleas a woman and a daughtera sister, a wife, and a mothershe loved her familygiving without sparingwise, determined, deeply caringby breath and unshaking faithshe was my grandmotherloving and deeply proudleaving a legacy of gracehope born of faith and love

I am cut to the quick, I am stricken,Undeserving of the mercy that You have givenHow can I make for my life a demandWhen all that I am is Yours to commandI grasp in my heart for what I deserveI forget that my life is here only to serveAnd I’m caught in between desire and loveLoosing sight of what waits for me above

Blood, fire and vapourSigns above and belowWonders in heaven and earthDarkness, and a blood moonHis Spirit poured outHis servants declaringThe great and notable dayHis day, the day He comesThe day we are savedIf we call upon His name– acts 2:18-21

i am a song written in minor keythe rise and fall, the dance beside the deepthe melancholy surge, the tantalizing leapthe bright and bittersweet relationa life of rhyme and reason

the scent of spring was on the air this morningbreathing deep a sigh after the rainwhite blossoms on the dogwood are breakingand the indigo tinge of magnoliassignal the last breath of winter

snow lies laden on the groundsalt ringing the treesmaking patterns on wet roadslonging for life and evidenceseeking resurrectionthree days like three monthsan eternity of waitingfor a promise of hopehis voice and my name–adapted from I practice my spanish grammer

lilacs and daffodils,on a grassy dell,in the mid day sun.on a day in spring,when the weathers cool,to sit and dwell,on the nearness of you.

she teases mesoft breath, moist, like a kiss on your cheekand the wind blows, so sweet in the morningand she says she’s sorry for taking so longthat she’ll be back soonand i believe herbecause i’m smitten

who are You Lord,to pursue me with Your love?who made the wind and the rain?who made the mountains danceand the very earth tremble.who are You Lord,to invest Yourself in me?I who merit naught but judgment?I who have spurned the sweetest giftsof your deep and merciful heart.

Give me the broken, those in pain.The wise, made wise by suffering.Who can know compassion,Who can know Love,Who hasn’t hurt, felt anguish,Known sorrow, and known loss?Precious is the fellowship of sufferingHumble are those who are brokenAnd Sweet is the consolation of His Love.

1) Far to the east, with the glowing sun bathing A battleground strewn with many knights dying A battle is fought, with the morning sun rising Fought for fair Avalon, for the High Kings calling2) Great are the knights, they are noble in bearing Loyal and true, their fel swords are swinging They fought against darkness, to see the sweet morning Fought for fair Avalon, for the High Kings calling3) But the knights of fair Avalon, their high banners flapping Are sorely besieged, their courage is dwindling They fight to the full, their whole hearts there giving Fought for fair Avalon, for the High Kings calling Knights look to the…

Observe the lark, who flies from twig to branchHow he gaily lifts his head and wingObserve his twinkling eyes and hear his chirpHow he proudly lifts his voice to singSing sweet your song, O morning larkSing of the Creator and creatureLet peal your laughing jubilant harkAnd greet the rays of the rising sun

my little girl, i loved you so much. i had such hopes, sweet dreams of holding you, playing with you, watching you grow. i felt you grow inside. God had taken part of me, and fashioned something precious, something lovely, exquisitely beautiful, embodied of hope and love but i lost you. you were my little girl, not to hold, never to see unable to watch you stretch your arms for the first time, never to see you experience this wide wide world. you were taken too early, a life, my life, so short, so tenuous. my stolen child, my heart…

Sway to the rhythm of deep vibrationPulsating waves of palpable motionMove to the beat of a pounding drumThe resonant thrill of a strident thrumLoose yourself in an aching voiceFind yourself in the loss of choiceThe quiet surrender of mans volitionTo beauty, song, and exposition

I desire to express an invocation an elocution most profound But my words escape me The ephemeral nature of my heart cannot grasp the discarnate theme ethereal, mystical, divine Cry out, Cry out, inarticulate tongue insensate instrument of mans desiring Let the heart give forth praise indescribable

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