Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Archive for May, 2018

Identity

We all have gifts and talents that are uniquely ours.

——

So glad I’m not you
And you are not me
If such were the case
It would be misery

Trapped in a body
Signals are crossed
Feeling psychotic
Feeling damaged and lost

Trying to be
What I’m certainly not
Playing a role —
I’ve been put on the spot

Trying to be
What you think will gain love
Pretending and posing
Just to get human love

We must have an anchor
That shows us the truth
God’s word and His teaching
Is no trivial pursuit

I’m back to my own place
I am who I am
When we let go and let God
Life is gloriously grand

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Ridin’ on the Wave

Ridin’ on the wave of God’s love —
It can be precarious,
It’s sometimes hilarious,
But don’t be nefarious —
Just ride it, ride on.

As we ride the wave of God’s love —
Our balance let’s keep,
His truth and love seek,
Be humble and meek —
Keep ridin’, keep on.

To ride on the wave of God’s love —
Let go and surrender,
Receive His love tender,
His grace do not hinder —
Let go and ride on.

… And if you should fall —
Attend to His call;
Get up and stand tall …

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Mundane Melody

In movies and in fairy tales,
In books and dreams and wishes,
There’s one thing people rarely do —
They rarely wash the dishes.

In tales of pirates, princes, pow’r,
It’s easy to avoid it —
You’ll seldom see this in a tale —
Someone who cleans a toilet.

These mundane things don’t hold the mind —
Those things we see with turned-up nose.
You won’t see in a tale, I fear,
A climax shown by washing clothes.

So never think a fiction book
Or solemn tale of history,
Is anything like real life —
We’d rather read of luxury.

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Leaning

With failure stamped across my brow,
In mercy I must trust somehow.
With guilt and sorrow so forlorn,
My trust in God must be reborn.

On only Him must I depend,
Else tragedy my soul will rend.
With Jesus I must place my fate,
His righteousness, His justice great.

If on myself I lean too hard,
Perhaps I’ll fall, like house of cards.
In Jesus will I now believe —
My soul to save, my angst relieve.

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Resurrection Nearing

It’s really not your fault –
Perhaps my fated cross.
Some days I live in clinging fog;
I swim as if in thickest bog.

And yet I see a Light
That keeps me in the fight.
Won’t God His precious promise keep?
He’ll surely make my soul complete.

Poor thinking got me here –
Poor thinking, and much fear.
Must reconstruct my mind;
New truths I need to find.

And here’s were God comes in –
His life must grow within.
His Word I must digest
And of my fear divest.

The past I must let go;
The lies and fears forego.
The resurrection nears –
Let there be joyful tears!

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Or Did the Devil?

How to know
If I’m at fault?
Or would this person
Unremittingly
Find fault again?

O broken heart,
How many failings
Did I impart?

How many breakings
Were caused by me? —
Or did the devil
Stealthily deceive?

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A Voice to Speak

I cannot live in frozen fear
And yet, I often do
Fear of what you think of me
And what I think of you

I need the Savior’s loving grace
His wisdom, bright and true
His love for sinners and for saints
His love for me and you

That He would give my being
A voice to speak His love
His wisdom, truth, and mercy free
His view from heaven above

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God’s Providence

If You did not my soul inflame,
If You did not fill lungs with breath,
If You did not my mind engage,
Sure, that would be my sorry death.

Without Your spirit, none can live,
E’en those who do not yet believe.
It’s by Your providence, I know,
There’s reason to rejoice, or grieve.

We cannot understand Your ways;
We grope about, sometimes in ruin.
Or graced, find better ways of life —
But death, the whys will then illumine.

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Remote

I’ve rarely been in frozen snow;
Those icy winds I do not know.
Nor traveled in the desert sands,
As hot winds blow ‘cross dried-out lands.

I never crossed the sea by boat,
Or walked in jungles lush, remote.
I’ve never seen the northern lights,
Or watched as geese took southern flight.

I never knew a grandpa’s smile,
Nor heard one say, “Just sit a while.”
Nor sat upon my daddy’s lap,
Laid down my head, and took a nap.

At least, I don’t recall that time
Of knowing father’s love sublime.
He seemed so distant, far, remote —
While sitting in his chair, he spoke …

Of intellected things, refined —
Of politics, and words sublime.
I did not understand his heart —
Perhaps in heaven, we will start.

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Scattered Dreams

Why, in scattered dreams do I
Remember childhood fantasies,
Of growing up, of painful times —
And also happiness and ease.
Who can give the why, wherefore?
Who can know why life is spent
On fruitless searches, till the time
God’s grace on other road does send?
Am I to blame for all those years
In ignorance and darkness spent?
Or must the drama take its course
For story to have happy end?

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