Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Archive for April, 2014

What Is the Beauty?

What is the beauty in a flower?
What draws me to its fragrant bliss?
All I can think, and only this —
It praises Father every hour.

Why do the mountains call to me?
Why so majestic, bold, and grand?
They often tell me of His plan,
His might and power, His purpose grand.

Why does the ocean call to me?
Why crashing waves do beckon still?
Only because my Savior’s voice
Is hidden in their mighty power.

Why do I till and dig the earth?
Now planting seeds that will give birth?
Because the seed that once seemed dead
Will bring new life upon the earth.

Now every day He speaks to me
In seed and flower, in meadows bright.
Though blind and deaf I tend to be
His light and love will make me right.

Healing Rain

Rush of the rain,
In waves and showers.
Thirsty the earth,
Now will come flowers.

Like Holy Spirit
Comes the rain.
Watering soul
And life again.

Dry was the earth
And hard as iron.
Dead was my soul
‘Til caught on fire.

Spirit of God
Will now break forth.
Like little seedling,
Life brings hope.

Paralysis

If all the world is trouble,
And everywhere I step
Seems some poor soul is suff’ring —
These things I can’t forget.

Within me stirs compassion
And tears do often fall,
But better still if I knew how
To answer action’s call.

It seems sometimes I’m in a dream
Where body cannot move —
The spur to action paralyzed,
Though there is much to do.

How did I end up in this fog
Of thick pea soup — so still?
Can’t speak, can’t shout — I don’t know why,
But truth will conquer still.

The Bookworm

On my nightstand in a pile,
Lie twenty books or more.
Inside each one I’ve read a bit
And then found them a bore.

Yes, this is one I’ve read before,
And that one’s just too gross,
Another one’s too shallow,
The fourth one’s too morose.

Perhaps these lands of fantasy —
Where books my soul do bring,
Can they no longer satisfy —
Reality’s the thing?

But as a child I wandered,
Devoured every word.
One book a day I swallowed
And ate the printed word.

And still I’ll wander to those lands
For, yes, they help me dream
Of that which can, or yet will be,
Of worlds as yet unseen.

Confession

The wound of sin
Festers within,
Until God’s light
Can make it right.

Why try to hide
The pain inside?
The healing comes
When brought to light.

Neglected Child

Shattered by silence,
No words to express,
Mumbling and muted —
No words will caress.

No great approval,
No smiles of delight,
No healing laughter,
Or love at first sight.

Crippled emotions,
Frozen in fear,
Unfounded notions,
And buckets of tears.

Come out of the darkness,
Come into the light,
So wounds be acknowledged
And wrong be made right.

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