Browsing: poetry

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104. Ballad for Gloom. Ezra Pound. Modern American Poetry “For God, our God is a gallant foe that playeth behind the veil. Whom God deigns not to overthrow hath need of triple mail.”

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Concert

It smells of beer and suntan lotion Not too thick, and the press of people Strangers brushing up against you Attentions paying more heed to the man on stage He sings of love and heart break Joking with the crowd A distant intimacy shared briefly Among complete strangers.

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Fasting

for what cause should we forsake and willingly refuse to slake our hunger and our thirst? do we see the pain and urgent need of those in bondage and would be freed to start to walk with God?

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Chat

there is exuberance in conversationher *smile*, her quick responsean intimate connection of words,expressions made plain by type and nimble fingers.electrodes speed pithy wordsold and newly coined through air and over land, rendering space meaninglessbrought to you by: huggles and confuzzeled

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Selfish Pain

i found myself thinking today perhaps i finally understand how sin hurts. maybe this time i wont forget, letting go of reason, taking a plunge and giving up, wasting love and precious blood on selfish pain.

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Rhesagirl – “He cheated death that day…” How very real. Though the last two lines confuse me a little.

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The Depth of Mercy and the Breadth

How does one express, the depth of mercy and the breadth and width of His great love? For I have descended to such great heights of proud and selfish gain. And the weight of sin is a dark and lonely pain. Yet Christ above on God’s right hand intercedes for…

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First Passion: Poetry: The New Yorker How lovely, how melancholy, how melodic.

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Yellow

flee the oppressive warmth of yellow hot and close, a room full of ichor bright lights, harsh, glaring down and ease into twilight. close your eyes in the half light a cool expanse, an oasis of calm and feel the murmur of solitude alone in a quiet room.

Poetry
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Mother

I remember waking up, and in the morning hours Walking to my mothers room, to see her still in bed Her bible propped up on one knee, her head was bowed in prayer Seeking God to start the day, before the morning fled

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Devotions

On a mid winters eve In a small country town My thoughts drift and float As my eyes fluttered down And I listen while I sit To the soft gentle sound Of my fathers rich voice While he’s reading out loud From the Bible thats sheltered And compassed around The…

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Fragments: Pieces of Life

Its Fall here in the midwest and I’ve been feeling more lately. Things always feel more saturated in the Fall, as though the richness of the colors bleeds into life. ;)Mostly its my over active emotional personality. I’ve not been posting much, and the photos have trickled to a halt.…

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Love Suffers Love, and Endless Hoping

day suffers day, and emptiness a pervasive feeling in the back of the soul and frustration, crying out, but not completely, to proud to let go of ruined things familiar self suffers self, and resignation a comfortable pain that is perversely loved defying logic to pour energy into an object…

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66. My Lady’s Tears. Anonymous. The Oxford Book of English Verse In those fair eyes where all perfections keep. Her face was full of woe; But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts.

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