Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Posts tagged ‘heaven’

Final Destination

Four lanes of traffic —
Morning commute.
Lord, let there be more than this.
Lord, let Your will be done.

Where are they going?
Mothers and fathers,
Students and singles.
Lord, let Your will be done.

Faces in cars;
We’re in this together.
Where are they going?
Lord, let Your will be done.

By highways and byways,
Twists and turns,
Detours and accidents,
Lord, let Your will be done.

There’s a Final Destination,
A place that we must choose —
A heaven or a hell.
Lord, let Your will be done.

Home

A place where you can hang your hat,
And say “Good morning” to your cat,
To drink your coffee in pajamas,
Or raise a herd of lovely llamas.

A place where you can be a king,
Or queen, if that’s your hankering.
A place where you can be a fool,
Or spend some time beside the pool.

A place where you can get some rest,
A place to be your very best.
A place where you’re so much encouraged,
A place where you can freely flourish.

A place of many smells and voices,
A place where you have made some choices.
A place where people tend to greet you,
And say that they are glad to see you.

Or maybe you can be your worst;
Growl at the dog, and sadly, curse.
You wake up grumpy; you’re a bear,
But still the people love you there.

You say, it’s not at all like that?
Your home, does it these senses lack?
No domicile is truly perfect;
In fact, at home, you feel a reject.

Our real home’s in heaven above,
A place of everlasting love.
And there, you’ll meet with all your dreams,
You’ll live by living, flowing streams.

God has for you a mansion great,
With rooms that for your soul await.
And good or bad, your home on earth?
For that new home, to wait it’s worth.

And Thus in Heaven

How small I am
In Your immensity;
How ignorant
In Your luminosity.

Who am I
That You should care for me?
A wretched creature —
Yet destined for eternity.

How tiny I am
In Your vast universe;
And yet, invited,
With Your Heart to converse.

Participating
In Your joy and sorrow —
Through present, past
And all tomorrows.

In Your crosses, trials,
I can partake.
And thus in heaven
Your face will contemplate.

Carry Me

Holy Spirit, carry me –
I cannot walk alone.
Son of God, deliver me
Unto my heav’nly home.
Father God, create in me
Love that for sin atones.

Saints in heaven, pray for me
For graces needed here.
Saints on earth, please do the same
Else I will fall, I fear.
Holy ones, in heav’n, on earth –
Help me love Jesus dear.

The road is long, the way so hard,
With sin and strife replete.
Yet, Jesus does a work in me,
A work He will complete.

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

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.

For the Joy

I had my head down for so long,
It takes training for me to lift it up.
My focus is off; My heart’s eyes myopic.
Learning from God is my only cure.

“For the joy set before him he endured,”
“He considered the fact that God is able,”
“Our light and momentary troubles,”
“Our slight afflictions,”
“The sufferings of this present time,”
“Not worth comparing with the glory.”

I don’t know how abuse, torture, rape, crucifixion,
Ridicule, mockery, calumny,
Beatings, shipwrecks, imprisonments and more,
Suffered by some,
Can be called “slight –”
But the glory, the joy, of heaven,
Must be far greater than anyone can imagine.

Heaven, My Real Home

The earth is not my home,
Nor any special land.
Though my heart beats strong
In many places,
In lands where I know many faces —
Still, none can I call home.

Heaven is my home,
Though it I’ve never seen,
Except, when the Creator set
My soul upon earth’s scene.

Heaven is my home,
Seen only in my dreams,
Through mists of time,
Through clouds sublime,
In half-heard tunes
Under bright-lit moons,
In sideways glances
And angels’ dances.

And so, when I go home,
I hope you’ll soon come, too;
On angels’ wings, as choirs sing —
We’ll all be finally home.

The Wilds of Truman Avenue

In the wilds of Truman Avenue
Grow rampant weeds
And many seeds
Of wild and untamed flowers

In quiet suburban streets
Some types of weeds
Push through the cracks
No strength they lack

We like to tame and formalize
But sometimes wildness is a prize
That we can learn to cultivate —
But then it isn’t wild

————

There was a Garden once
Where man and woman roamed
And wild things lived in harmony
With man and his sweet destiny

————

In the wilds of Truman Avenue
I’ll dig and hoe
While Heaven’s vision
Slowly grows

Time Ticking On

TIME TICKING ON

 

Are you the clay,
Formed by His loving hands?
Are you the stone,
Taking life as it stands?

Does now His loving will
Flow through You, keeping still?
Does saying “Yes” to Him
Give you the biggest thrill?

Are you the canvas now,
Letting His colors run?
Are you the tapestry
His weaving has begun?

Are you now in the boat
Tossed on the storm-swept sea?
But with Him in your boat
Sure that still safe you’ll be?

Time keeps on ticking on;
One day we’ll all be gone.
Be sure you’ll ready be
For heaven’s ecstasy.

Tag Cloud