Christ is still this season's reason of Hope;
Harps of angels tinkle with celebration -
Risen is our Savior, who is still
Interceding on everyone's behalf.
Satan is defeated, now and forever more.
Today is a gift, for it's always present;
Make room in your heart to share Love
And let the Joy of the Lord flow freely.
Saints, sinners arise... and be glad in Him!
Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays this 2009 season!
Friday, December 11, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Poem: The Dark Heretic
In diligent search of God
was the dark heretic,
a master of the natural world
and our father of modern physics.
In defiance of the Church
stood Sir Isaac Newton alone,
cloistered in his office, clinging…
To personal beliefs, of his own.
Interest in “The End Times”
was his lifelong, secret mission -
His papers were intentionally hidden,
from recognizing the gravity of his situation.
In the study of Divine Prophesy,
Newton poured incessantly over The Word,
convinced that his Doomsday calculations were…
Godly insights - that he alone had learned.
Indeed, we are seeing natural disasters and earthquakes;
however, God stated that “no man shall know the date”.
So in 2060, will Newton have the last laugh,
regarding his expected demise of all human fate?
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
was the dark heretic,
a master of the natural world
and our father of modern physics.
In defiance of the Church
stood Sir Isaac Newton alone,
cloistered in his office, clinging…
To personal beliefs, of his own.
Interest in “The End Times”
was his lifelong, secret mission -
His papers were intentionally hidden,
from recognizing the gravity of his situation.
In the study of Divine Prophesy,
Newton poured incessantly over The Word,
convinced that his Doomsday calculations were…
Godly insights - that he alone had learned.
Indeed, we are seeing natural disasters and earthquakes;
however, God stated that “no man shall know the date”.
So in 2060, will Newton have the last laugh,
regarding his expected demise of all human fate?
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Poem: When Will You Come?
Oh my Lord –
When will You come?
Will I be found, before my earthly life is done?
Will I experience Your Resurrection Power
and observe how sin You have conquered & devoured?
It’s a win-win scenario, for me, in any case –
As I long to see Your radiance, revealed at Heaven’s pace.
To enter Your gates with humble willingness
is real, knowing that I’m clothed by Your Righteousness.
When will You come?
Will I be found, before Death has finally succumbed?
Although Your timetable has not been uncovered,
thankfully, Your Grace I’ve discovered.
Oh my Lord, I’m standing in line -
To witness Your Return, within the span of Eternity’s time.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
When will You come?
Will I be found, before my earthly life is done?
Will I experience Your Resurrection Power
and observe how sin You have conquered & devoured?
It’s a win-win scenario, for me, in any case –
As I long to see Your radiance, revealed at Heaven’s pace.
To enter Your gates with humble willingness
is real, knowing that I’m clothed by Your Righteousness.
When will You come?
Will I be found, before Death has finally succumbed?
Although Your timetable has not been uncovered,
thankfully, Your Grace I’ve discovered.
Oh my Lord, I’m standing in line -
To witness Your Return, within the span of Eternity’s time.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Poem: Outside the Windy City
Outside the Windy City
lives the Lady Finnegan -
Carol dearly loves the Lord Jehovah
and is a part of His earthly plan.
Her heart has been pierced
by God's Holy Spirit;
for she placed her life before Him
and has chosen to submit.
Her adoration for the King
has burst forth with heart's joy,
from reading her great nephew's literature
within the borders of Illinois.
Now she's become God's messenger
via her gifts of Joe's Christian poetry -
For the fragrance of God's Love
envelopes her with scriptural potpourri.
Blessed to be a blessing,
her friendship has touched me -
For we have found common ground
between kinship and a love of poetry.
Dedicated to my Great Aunt Carol Finnegan,
the sister of my maternal Grandmother Marguerite Massa.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
lives the Lady Finnegan -
Carol dearly loves the Lord Jehovah
and is a part of His earthly plan.
Her heart has been pierced
by God's Holy Spirit;
for she placed her life before Him
and has chosen to submit.
Her adoration for the King
has burst forth with heart's joy,
from reading her great nephew's literature
within the borders of Illinois.
Now she's become God's messenger
via her gifts of Joe's Christian poetry -
For the fragrance of God's Love
envelopes her with scriptural potpourri.
Blessed to be a blessing,
her friendship has touched me -
For we have found common ground
between kinship and a love of poetry.
Dedicated to my Great Aunt Carol Finnegan,
the sister of my maternal Grandmother Marguerite Massa.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Poem: Outside the Windy City
Outside the Windy City
lives the Lady Finnegan -
Carol dearly loves the Lord Jehovah
and is a part of His earthly plan.
Her heart has been pierced
by God's Holy Spirit;
for she placed her life before Him
and has chosen to submit.
Her adoration for the King
has burst forth with heart's joy,
from reading her great nephew's literature
within the borders of Illinois.
Now she's become God's messenger
via her gifts of Joe's Christian poetry -
For the fragrance of God's Love
envelopes her with scriptural potpourri.
Blessed to be a blessing,
her friendship has touched me -
For we have found common ground
between kinship and a love of poetry.
Dedicated to my Great Aunt Carol Finnegan,
the sister of my maternal Grandmother Marguerite Massa.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
lives the Lady Finnegan -
Carol dearly loves the Lord Jehovah
and is a part of His earthly plan.
Her heart has been pierced
by God's Holy Spirit;
for she placed her life before Him
and has chosen to submit.
Her adoration for the King
has burst forth with heart's joy,
from reading her great nephew's literature
within the borders of Illinois.
Now she's become God's messenger
via her gifts of Joe's Christian poetry -
For the fragrance of God's Love
envelopes her with scriptural potpourri.
Blessed to be a blessing,
her friendship has touched me -
For we have found common ground
between kinship and a love of poetry.
Dedicated to my Great Aunt Carol Finnegan,
the sister of my maternal Grandmother Marguerite Massa.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Sunday, October 18, 2009
In Remembrance of Grandma - Poem & Background
Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I share the background and poem "In Remembrance of Grandma".
I recognize that most of you reading this article will not know much about my maternal Grandmother, other than what you're able to glean from this page. However, there are universal lessons that need to be shared. This poem was originally written for her funeral.
For nearly forty years, I was blessed to have known my grandparents; blessed - because many people don't have the opportunity to know their family history personally from those who came before them. Within about one decade, mine were all gone - with my maternal grandmother being the last one to die. Of the four of them, I had spent the most time with her. My grandmother had moved to Portland, Maine; this came about as the result of two significant events in her life. First, her husband Al Massa died unexpectedly; second, her oldest daughter (and my mom) had gone through a divorce. So they decided to purchase a home jointly and move on with their lives. Also living with them was my aunt Tina, my mother's younger sister.
My grandmother was an intelligent woman; she was one of those people who completed the New York Times crossword puzzles - in ink and usually in under an hour. And she grew some of the most beautiful roses in her tiny backyard. It was wonderful to see the joy in her eyes when it came to her flowers. The problem was that she was heart-broken when Al passed away; for decades they would go dancing at night, just to hold one another more often. With him gone, she stopped living for herself. Less than a year from his retirement, her husband died on the picket line at work. Although I can only imagine her grief, it was difficult to see the affects of this tragedy slowly eat away at her soul. She rarely left her home, with the exception of going to Church, the grocery store or some of the neighbors' homes a few times during the month. She and Al were to go to Hawaii for a second honeymoon, but she could not bear to go there without him. In The Word, we are essentially reminded that "people without vision perish" (and yes, I know that there are variations of interpretation of this concept). Despite our ability to absorb pain, we must learn to move forward in life and not let the pain consume us.
For many years, she smoked cigarettes and was unwilling to give them up. She did so eventually; my mother moved out of their house, Tina got married; she and her husband lived with my grandma. Tina and husband Greg started their own family, raising three boys - thus giving her the incentive to quit. As most everyone knows, smoking increases one's risk of having cancer. My family were under the impression that she had managed to escape the misery of that disease. Less than two weeks from her death was when most of the family learned that she had contracted cancer and emphysema.
Although I understand and appreciate the need for privacy, it was selfish of my grandmother not to share the condition of her health. Her justification for not telling anyone, was that she had decided not to go through with the cancer treatment. By not telling us, she figured that no one would be given the opportunity to dissuade her from her decision. After all, it was her decision (and rightfully so). Before she died, Tina started quickly gathering information about cancer - to better learn about what to expect regarding the few remaining days of her mother's life. One cancer brochure shocked her; as a result of reading the material, she was now having to deal with guilt. This particular pamphlet laid out symptoms and patterns of human behavior of those suffering from this fatal disease - stuff that Tina had observed, but never realized the meaning of until it was too late. So in effect, my grandmother caused her family more pain by not sharing. In addition, not everyone who cared about her, had enough time to say good-bye (while she was alive).
Although I had time to compose this brief poem in her honor, I did not have enough time to process my grandmother's death fully (prior to the service). I was supposed to read the following poem and share a few words. To my surprise, I was choked up with immense grief, which kept me from delivering my eulogy; my wife kindly stepped in and presented the poem. One of my brothers was extremely upset for my inability to talk on behalf of my grandmother; so he spoke on my family's behalf. It's one of my few regrets in life; however, she was the only grandparent of mine that got to read my poetry manuscript. Less than two months before her death, she had taken time read my poetry and was pleasantly pleased with my efforts. During her appraisal of my work was the first time I learned that she wrote poetry - as of today, I've never gotten to read a line of poetry that she wrote. So it breaks my heart not to know what she composed, as well as not being able to share any more of my writing with her. And so here is my tribute for her...
In Remembrance of Grandma
A manicured garden
of colored, cultured roses
now goes untended.
For Marguerite has been freed
of all mortal constraint;
left behind
is a silver trowel
and dancing shoes,
as her spirit flies
to the Hawaiian shore
for pirouetting barefoot
on the seashell sand.
Goodbye Grandma Massa; I miss you already.
(18 June 2006)
I recognize that most of you reading this article will not know much about my maternal Grandmother, other than what you're able to glean from this page. However, there are universal lessons that need to be shared. This poem was originally written for her funeral.
For nearly forty years, I was blessed to have known my grandparents; blessed - because many people don't have the opportunity to know their family history personally from those who came before them. Within about one decade, mine were all gone - with my maternal grandmother being the last one to die. Of the four of them, I had spent the most time with her. My grandmother had moved to Portland, Maine; this came about as the result of two significant events in her life. First, her husband Al Massa died unexpectedly; second, her oldest daughter (and my mom) had gone through a divorce. So they decided to purchase a home jointly and move on with their lives. Also living with them was my aunt Tina, my mother's younger sister.
My grandmother was an intelligent woman; she was one of those people who completed the New York Times crossword puzzles - in ink and usually in under an hour. And she grew some of the most beautiful roses in her tiny backyard. It was wonderful to see the joy in her eyes when it came to her flowers. The problem was that she was heart-broken when Al passed away; for decades they would go dancing at night, just to hold one another more often. With him gone, she stopped living for herself. Less than a year from his retirement, her husband died on the picket line at work. Although I can only imagine her grief, it was difficult to see the affects of this tragedy slowly eat away at her soul. She rarely left her home, with the exception of going to Church, the grocery store or some of the neighbors' homes a few times during the month. She and Al were to go to Hawaii for a second honeymoon, but she could not bear to go there without him. In The Word, we are essentially reminded that "people without vision perish" (and yes, I know that there are variations of interpretation of this concept). Despite our ability to absorb pain, we must learn to move forward in life and not let the pain consume us.
For many years, she smoked cigarettes and was unwilling to give them up. She did so eventually; my mother moved out of their house, Tina got married; she and her husband lived with my grandma. Tina and husband Greg started their own family, raising three boys - thus giving her the incentive to quit. As most everyone knows, smoking increases one's risk of having cancer. My family were under the impression that she had managed to escape the misery of that disease. Less than two weeks from her death was when most of the family learned that she had contracted cancer and emphysema.
Although I understand and appreciate the need for privacy, it was selfish of my grandmother not to share the condition of her health. Her justification for not telling anyone, was that she had decided not to go through with the cancer treatment. By not telling us, she figured that no one would be given the opportunity to dissuade her from her decision. After all, it was her decision (and rightfully so). Before she died, Tina started quickly gathering information about cancer - to better learn about what to expect regarding the few remaining days of her mother's life. One cancer brochure shocked her; as a result of reading the material, she was now having to deal with guilt. This particular pamphlet laid out symptoms and patterns of human behavior of those suffering from this fatal disease - stuff that Tina had observed, but never realized the meaning of until it was too late. So in effect, my grandmother caused her family more pain by not sharing. In addition, not everyone who cared about her, had enough time to say good-bye (while she was alive).
Although I had time to compose this brief poem in her honor, I did not have enough time to process my grandmother's death fully (prior to the service). I was supposed to read the following poem and share a few words. To my surprise, I was choked up with immense grief, which kept me from delivering my eulogy; my wife kindly stepped in and presented the poem. One of my brothers was extremely upset for my inability to talk on behalf of my grandmother; so he spoke on my family's behalf. It's one of my few regrets in life; however, she was the only grandparent of mine that got to read my poetry manuscript. Less than two months before her death, she had taken time read my poetry and was pleasantly pleased with my efforts. During her appraisal of my work was the first time I learned that she wrote poetry - as of today, I've never gotten to read a line of poetry that she wrote. So it breaks my heart not to know what she composed, as well as not being able to share any more of my writing with her. And so here is my tribute for her...
In Remembrance of Grandma
A manicured garden
of colored, cultured roses
now goes untended.
For Marguerite has been freed
of all mortal constraint;
left behind
is a silver trowel
and dancing shoes,
as her spirit flies
to the Hawaiian shore
for pirouetting barefoot
on the seashell sand.
Goodbye Grandma Massa; I miss you already.
(18 June 2006)
Behind the Poem: Enjoy This Season
Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I share a blurb regarding my poem "Enjoy This Season".
Lots of people like to surmise about the idea of living in a different period of recorded humanity, such as: Italy's Renaissance (circa 1400-1600 ad), the building of the Greek or Roman Empires, the time of Christ and so forth. However, not me. Being an I.T. (Information Technology) professional in this "Age of Information" with available technologies - specifically "Personal Computers" and the Internet allowing me access to gobs of data - can be a real and surreal "head trip". For I've learned how to glean concepts from the experience of others; such an ability is helping me to learn to dream and redefine my personal journey. After all, we are instructed in the Bible that "we're to be more than conquerors" and thus live a Christian lifestyle successfully. Hence the rub...
Like everyone else, I'm uniquely defined. So expect that your results will also vary. In the Scriptures, one of the many analogies to describe mankind is "withering grass". When compared to the centuries of mankind, one's existence is brief; however, it doesn't need to be invisible. With the tools and information presently at our fingertips, we can learn to develop vision and ultimately uncover the "unseen things of God". So in my desire to want more of Jehovah's presence in my life, I became more vulnerable - in a spiritual sense. As a result, I lost my joy; I lost it because I didn't recognize how important a commodity joy is. It took years to recognize what had transpired. And it took more years of internal fighting (with myself) and prayer to get it back. While attending Church for decades, I was familar with the idiom "The joy of the Lord is my strength."; its importance was only revealed once it was gone. Feel free to learn from my mistake and avoid the associated pain.
It had never been my life's desire to publish a book, as with some people. Writing poetry became my personal therapy sessions for reclaiming my joy; an insight that was realized once I reviewed my accomplishment in retrospect. Although a portion of my joy has been restored, I still have more work ahead of me. And more serious challenges are now in view.
One of my dearest friends, Norman J. Richard Jr., died earlier this year (August 19th). One of his favorite quotes was: "Do something, even if it's wrong!". As some of you may guess, he was unquestionably a man of action. In addition, he fiercely loved life, his family, and friends - and he did so with an overflowing river of joy. Not only was he a member of "my inner circle", but he was one of the few who truly encouraged me to pursue the goal of getting my poetry published. By the way he lived, he also showed me that I would be able to ultimately recapture my joy completely. So back in August of 2008, after spending quality time with Norman, I wrote this simple poem of encouragement for myself. And it's my desire that others can also find encouragement for themselves, during their times of difficulty.
Lots of people like to surmise about the idea of living in a different period of recorded humanity, such as: Italy's Renaissance (circa 1400-1600 ad), the building of the Greek or Roman Empires, the time of Christ and so forth. However, not me. Being an I.T. (Information Technology) professional in this "Age of Information" with available technologies - specifically "Personal Computers" and the Internet allowing me access to gobs of data - can be a real and surreal "head trip". For I've learned how to glean concepts from the experience of others; such an ability is helping me to learn to dream and redefine my personal journey. After all, we are instructed in the Bible that "we're to be more than conquerors" and thus live a Christian lifestyle successfully. Hence the rub...
Like everyone else, I'm uniquely defined. So expect that your results will also vary. In the Scriptures, one of the many analogies to describe mankind is "withering grass". When compared to the centuries of mankind, one's existence is brief; however, it doesn't need to be invisible. With the tools and information presently at our fingertips, we can learn to develop vision and ultimately uncover the "unseen things of God". So in my desire to want more of Jehovah's presence in my life, I became more vulnerable - in a spiritual sense. As a result, I lost my joy; I lost it because I didn't recognize how important a commodity joy is. It took years to recognize what had transpired. And it took more years of internal fighting (with myself) and prayer to get it back. While attending Church for decades, I was familar with the idiom "The joy of the Lord is my strength."; its importance was only revealed once it was gone. Feel free to learn from my mistake and avoid the associated pain.
It had never been my life's desire to publish a book, as with some people. Writing poetry became my personal therapy sessions for reclaiming my joy; an insight that was realized once I reviewed my accomplishment in retrospect. Although a portion of my joy has been restored, I still have more work ahead of me. And more serious challenges are now in view.
One of my dearest friends, Norman J. Richard Jr., died earlier this year (August 19th). One of his favorite quotes was: "Do something, even if it's wrong!". As some of you may guess, he was unquestionably a man of action. In addition, he fiercely loved life, his family, and friends - and he did so with an overflowing river of joy. Not only was he a member of "my inner circle", but he was one of the few who truly encouraged me to pursue the goal of getting my poetry published. By the way he lived, he also showed me that I would be able to ultimately recapture my joy completely. So back in August of 2008, after spending quality time with Norman, I wrote this simple poem of encouragement for myself. And it's my desire that others can also find encouragement for themselves, during their times of difficulty.
Behind the Poem: Enoch
Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I speak to a poem that ends in a direction, not initially considered...
I've attended Church services for more than 3.5 decades; as a youth, I was raised in a Baptist Church (in southern Maine). For those unfamiliar with this division of Christianity, there's nothing more important than studying "The Word of God". And hear me - there is nothing inherently wrong with studying the Bible; it's one of those necessities as a Christian. And for me personally, it just wasn't enough. As much as I love The Word, having a real and personal relationship with Jehovah became more obvious and critical for my spiritual growth. Eventually, I found my way into the Pentecostal Church, got filled with the Holy Spirit and learned to speak in tongues. Accepting this gift (of tongues) raised my ability to build my relationship with Christ. In effect, it significantly improved the way I'm able to give praises to God and to talk with Him. I share this background information to give a flavor of my thought process (that influences my spiritual writings) - and not as a criticism for those who have not accepted this gift from God. (People who have read my poetry should readily agree that it's fairly evident that my writing is based on the Scriptures and does not contradict the basic tenets of the Christian faith.)
In order to remain within my profession of I.T. (Information Technology), I've had to relocate to different U.S. states on the east coast. So I found myself living in southern Connecticut for about a decade. For more than three years, I attended this popular Church in Milford. Despite my own "baggage", I was a productive Christian, giving my time, talent, tithe and offerings to the Church freely and whole-heartedly. As a result, I started to dream of how I could give more of myself to Him - to be able to give my entire life for God's purposes (as He intends for everyone). My poetry manuscript was completed and blindly rejected by the Church - the clergy was not interested or curious about the "Christian poetry" I had written. Undeterred, I had already started working on additional poetry manuscripts. Wanting more of Christ in my life, fascination with Enoch began to grow at this time; very little about him is shared in the Bible and I never thought to research him on the Internet. The pages of my Bible are written upon with notes, concepts and ideas as I studied The Word and listened to sermons throughout the years. And yet, I noticed how little commentary about Enoch was known to me in my notes. What did Enoch know that the rest of us fail to understand? At the beginning of the Wednesday evening service, parishoners are allowed to submit questions - to be addressed directly by the bishop, prior to the evening service. I had begun assembling my poem fragments and phrases, but had not started the construction of the poem itself. So one night I submitted a simple question: "Why don't we know more about Enoch's life?"
I've come to learn that preachers are fickle creatures; they claim to be "dead men" - people who are unoffendable when interacting with less knowledgeable individuals in spiritual matters. And yet, with my analytical brain and decades of Church experience, I naturally rub minsters against their grain. After all, "iron sharpens iron" and my words catch on their spiritual burrs - which is something that ministers typically don't fully appreciate when dealing with me. My innocent submission uncovered an overly sensitive nerve, quickly made apparent by the bishop's unrighteous reaction to my inquiry. Instead of answering my question in a positive and forthright manner, he exploded into a contrite diatribe "of how I suffered from an escapist's mentality". Naturally I was unimpressed with his carnal response and came to the immediate conclusion that he didn't have a viable response. I'm fairly sure that this event wasn't lost on the congregation either; for when someone avoids answering a direct question, people can easily draw their own conclusions. When the time came for me to compose this poem, the minister's words were still grinding on my spirit - thus setting the tone of this work. Although different from my other poems, I can't say that I'm disappointed with the ending of my poem, given the actions of Christ's dealings with the Pharisees and Saducees. If anything, I've followed His earthly example. This poem is my reaction to the bishop's inability to provide me with a solution that I had sought.
P.S. Although there are other people who never experienced death, such as Elijah, who was taken to heavenly in a fiery chariot, Enoch was essentially snatched away by the "Hand of God", so that "he was no more". No other documentation exists, that details those who prevented their physical death in this particular way.
I've attended Church services for more than 3.5 decades; as a youth, I was raised in a Baptist Church (in southern Maine). For those unfamiliar with this division of Christianity, there's nothing more important than studying "The Word of God". And hear me - there is nothing inherently wrong with studying the Bible; it's one of those necessities as a Christian. And for me personally, it just wasn't enough. As much as I love The Word, having a real and personal relationship with Jehovah became more obvious and critical for my spiritual growth. Eventually, I found my way into the Pentecostal Church, got filled with the Holy Spirit and learned to speak in tongues. Accepting this gift (of tongues) raised my ability to build my relationship with Christ. In effect, it significantly improved the way I'm able to give praises to God and to talk with Him. I share this background information to give a flavor of my thought process (that influences my spiritual writings) - and not as a criticism for those who have not accepted this gift from God. (People who have read my poetry should readily agree that it's fairly evident that my writing is based on the Scriptures and does not contradict the basic tenets of the Christian faith.)
In order to remain within my profession of I.T. (Information Technology), I've had to relocate to different U.S. states on the east coast. So I found myself living in southern Connecticut for about a decade. For more than three years, I attended this popular Church in Milford. Despite my own "baggage", I was a productive Christian, giving my time, talent, tithe and offerings to the Church freely and whole-heartedly. As a result, I started to dream of how I could give more of myself to Him - to be able to give my entire life for God's purposes (as He intends for everyone). My poetry manuscript was completed and blindly rejected by the Church - the clergy was not interested or curious about the "Christian poetry" I had written. Undeterred, I had already started working on additional poetry manuscripts. Wanting more of Christ in my life, fascination with Enoch began to grow at this time; very little about him is shared in the Bible and I never thought to research him on the Internet. The pages of my Bible are written upon with notes, concepts and ideas as I studied The Word and listened to sermons throughout the years. And yet, I noticed how little commentary about Enoch was known to me in my notes. What did Enoch know that the rest of us fail to understand? At the beginning of the Wednesday evening service, parishoners are allowed to submit questions - to be addressed directly by the bishop, prior to the evening service. I had begun assembling my poem fragments and phrases, but had not started the construction of the poem itself. So one night I submitted a simple question: "Why don't we know more about Enoch's life?"
I've come to learn that preachers are fickle creatures; they claim to be "dead men" - people who are unoffendable when interacting with less knowledgeable individuals in spiritual matters. And yet, with my analytical brain and decades of Church experience, I naturally rub minsters against their grain. After all, "iron sharpens iron" and my words catch on their spiritual burrs - which is something that ministers typically don't fully appreciate when dealing with me. My innocent submission uncovered an overly sensitive nerve, quickly made apparent by the bishop's unrighteous reaction to my inquiry. Instead of answering my question in a positive and forthright manner, he exploded into a contrite diatribe "of how I suffered from an escapist's mentality". Naturally I was unimpressed with his carnal response and came to the immediate conclusion that he didn't have a viable response. I'm fairly sure that this event wasn't lost on the congregation either; for when someone avoids answering a direct question, people can easily draw their own conclusions. When the time came for me to compose this poem, the minister's words were still grinding on my spirit - thus setting the tone of this work. Although different from my other poems, I can't say that I'm disappointed with the ending of my poem, given the actions of Christ's dealings with the Pharisees and Saducees. If anything, I've followed His earthly example. This poem is my reaction to the bishop's inability to provide me with a solution that I had sought.
P.S. Although there are other people who never experienced death, such as Elijah, who was taken to heavenly in a fiery chariot, Enoch was essentially snatched away by the "Hand of God", so that "he was no more". No other documentation exists, that details those who prevented their physical death in this particular way.
Behind the Poem: Evening Sky
Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. One never knows exactly when the Spirit of God will move on your soul; fortunately I was paying a little bit of attention, one cold winter night...
I've been a member of the IT (Information Technology) community since June of 1981, a profession that constantly tries to turn you into a slave from an employee. Rarely did I ever bring home work; sometimes it was unavoidable, given arbitrary deadlines and poor managerial planning. After dinner on this particular night, I had spread out the pages of computer 'source code' across the entire kitchen table, while attempting to solve a logic problem. ('Source Code' is the logic written by a computer programmer, in a given computer language, that addresses a specific business function. The term is equivalent to a computer 'program'.)
Once I had spent roughly 90 minutes struggling to solve the issue at hand, I treated myself to a mental break. I noticed the gentle reflection of moonlight on the window and decided that I would step outside onto my breezeway for some fresh air. The evening sky that night was a magnificient sight, like many other times. Absent were the visible presence of clouds and the stars seemed noticeably brighter. Taking in this grand view, I let my mind wander, temporarily forgetting about the thousand lines of computer code awaiting me. Gazing upwards, I was quietly reminded of God's promise to Abraham - that his offspring would be as numerous as the stars. I also contemplated why God had designed the heavens to demonstrate His existence.
When the coldness of the winter night started to permeate my body, it was time to terminate my break. Stepping back into my warm home, my brain was re-energized and thankful for the brief, mental hiatus. Trying to re-focus on my work became difficult, as phrases of poem snippets bombarded my soul as "shooting stars". I had been writing haikus and senryus for several years, but not 'traditional' poetry. So to move on, I grabbed a blank piece of paper and started writing, capturing the poem's concept. At the time, I did not recognize or fully appreciate what had transpired. This was my first non-haiku poem written by me; it would be over a year later before I thought to publish my first book.
Having taken the time to compose this poem, I was blessed by God, for taking time to honor Him. Less than ten minutes later, I solved the problem and enjoyed immense relief; plus I got to spend quality time for the rest of the night with my wife. In addition, I completed my project deadline to my boss' delight and surprise.
I've been a member of the IT (Information Technology) community since June of 1981, a profession that constantly tries to turn you into a slave from an employee. Rarely did I ever bring home work; sometimes it was unavoidable, given arbitrary deadlines and poor managerial planning. After dinner on this particular night, I had spread out the pages of computer 'source code' across the entire kitchen table, while attempting to solve a logic problem. ('Source Code' is the logic written by a computer programmer, in a given computer language, that addresses a specific business function. The term is equivalent to a computer 'program'.)
Once I had spent roughly 90 minutes struggling to solve the issue at hand, I treated myself to a mental break. I noticed the gentle reflection of moonlight on the window and decided that I would step outside onto my breezeway for some fresh air. The evening sky that night was a magnificient sight, like many other times. Absent were the visible presence of clouds and the stars seemed noticeably brighter. Taking in this grand view, I let my mind wander, temporarily forgetting about the thousand lines of computer code awaiting me. Gazing upwards, I was quietly reminded of God's promise to Abraham - that his offspring would be as numerous as the stars. I also contemplated why God had designed the heavens to demonstrate His existence.
When the coldness of the winter night started to permeate my body, it was time to terminate my break. Stepping back into my warm home, my brain was re-energized and thankful for the brief, mental hiatus. Trying to re-focus on my work became difficult, as phrases of poem snippets bombarded my soul as "shooting stars". I had been writing haikus and senryus for several years, but not 'traditional' poetry. So to move on, I grabbed a blank piece of paper and started writing, capturing the poem's concept. At the time, I did not recognize or fully appreciate what had transpired. This was my first non-haiku poem written by me; it would be over a year later before I thought to publish my first book.
Having taken the time to compose this poem, I was blessed by God, for taking time to honor Him. Less than ten minutes later, I solved the problem and enjoyed immense relief; plus I got to spend quality time for the rest of the night with my wife. In addition, I completed my project deadline to my boss' delight and surprise.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Poem: Human Matrix
Forcing an alignment of corporate resources
for some theory of best fit correlation
doesn't work on Kingdom People
when using an unspoken method of tabulation.
If Life is about true spiritual growth,
then why do ministries attempt to pigeon-hole
not making any allowances for us
to develop, expand and break our current mold?
Despite multitudes of outcome possibilities
the Church seems to suffer bouts of paralysis
from the continued mashing of talents and gifts
resulting from unexplained Presbyterian analysis.
There are many ministry leaders who speak of vision -
Their tone indicates that the laity is completely blind and numb;
their message is clear - the Body is not interested
to reach the Earth before Kingdom Come.
We are souls with great, untapped potential
and not just elements of an array.
Despite our abilities and life experiences,
our dreams and desires we're not allowed to convey.
For a failure of Church motivational tricks
comes from cramming God's People into a human matrix.
From the book: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
The ISBN is: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
for some theory of best fit correlation
doesn't work on Kingdom People
when using an unspoken method of tabulation.
If Life is about true spiritual growth,
then why do ministries attempt to pigeon-hole
not making any allowances for us
to develop, expand and break our current mold?
Despite multitudes of outcome possibilities
the Church seems to suffer bouts of paralysis
from the continued mashing of talents and gifts
resulting from unexplained Presbyterian analysis.
There are many ministry leaders who speak of vision -
Their tone indicates that the laity is completely blind and numb;
their message is clear - the Body is not interested
to reach the Earth before Kingdom Come.
We are souls with great, untapped potential
and not just elements of an array.
Despite our abilities and life experiences,
our dreams and desires we're not allowed to convey.
For a failure of Church motivational tricks
comes from cramming God's People into a human matrix.
From the book: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
The ISBN is: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Poem: Eternal Wellspring
Wellspring of spiritual water,
It's bubbling inside me.
Gently soothes my bruised soul -
Covering Life's pain of mystery.
Unseen surging river,
Courses through body mortal -
Renewing my energy,
Forced through this open portal.
Full to overflowing,
Come stand next to me,
Let the excess splash on you -
To prime your own jubilee.
This internal source,
Never shall run dry;
For Hope springs eternal,
Keeping this flood in full supply.
From the book: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
The ISBN is: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
It's bubbling inside me.
Gently soothes my bruised soul -
Covering Life's pain of mystery.
Unseen surging river,
Courses through body mortal -
Renewing my energy,
Forced through this open portal.
Full to overflowing,
Come stand next to me,
Let the excess splash on you -
To prime your own jubilee.
This internal source,
Never shall run dry;
For Hope springs eternal,
Keeping this flood in full supply.
From the book: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
The ISBN is: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Poem: Experiencing God
Experiencing God directly, is the way to go –
Be submerged in His Spirit, under His heavenly flow.
The lighted path to absolute freedom and peace
is accomplished from following Jehovah’s method of release.
The keys to Life’s issues are written in The Word;
open up your soul so the message can be heard.
God’s plan for your life will be ultimately revealed,
provided to Him you submit and your life you yield.
Demonstrate unwavering faith and be His witness
and others through you shall see His greatness.
From the book: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
The ISBN is: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Be submerged in His Spirit, under His heavenly flow.
The lighted path to absolute freedom and peace
is accomplished from following Jehovah’s method of release.
The keys to Life’s issues are written in The Word;
open up your soul so the message can be heard.
God’s plan for your life will be ultimately revealed,
provided to Him you submit and your life you yield.
Demonstrate unwavering faith and be His witness
and others through you shall see His greatness.
From the book: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
The ISBN is: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Poem: No Elaborate Pretense
Please forgive the simplicity of rhyme,
for I wish to be clear and take my time.
It’s never been “pc” to be Christian in any century,
out of step with the World, in what ones does or sees.
Having ideals may make me seem pompous,
even though I have no desire to impress.
I’m attempting to follow a Heavenly Plan,
by being a godly steward and serving fellow Man.
What I write from the heart, for me is real;
although as a guy, I’m not supposed to feel.
For some, the Principles of God make no sense –
However, my Faith is… no elaborate pretense.
From the book: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
The ISBN is: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
for I wish to be clear and take my time.
It’s never been “pc” to be Christian in any century,
out of step with the World, in what ones does or sees.
Having ideals may make me seem pompous,
even though I have no desire to impress.
I’m attempting to follow a Heavenly Plan,
by being a godly steward and serving fellow Man.
What I write from the heart, for me is real;
although as a guy, I’m not supposed to feel.
For some, the Principles of God make no sense –
However, my Faith is… no elaborate pretense.
From the book: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory
The ISBN is: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Matthew 19:26 (A Senryu)
Impossible tasks -
Can not be achieved by Man,
but by God Himself!
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Can not be achieved by Man,
but by God Himself!
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Poem: Enoch
Enoch was a dynamic soul
who truly sought God’s heart;
as a result of revelation knowledge
being imparted unto him,
God plucked him from the earth
so that he was “no more.”
Since Jehovah is no respecter of persons
and there is “nothing new under the sun”,
then why do we know only of a single individual
who was transported to heaven in the same manner
without experiencing an earthly demise?
How many “other” Enochs were there
whose names are unknown?
Did Enoch’s life story inspire God
to put His Word into print
with the intention of history repeating itself?
Why do ministers neglect Enoch’s story?
Perhaps by contrast it would reflect
poorly on themselves,
seeing they are still with us.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
who truly sought God’s heart;
as a result of revelation knowledge
being imparted unto him,
God plucked him from the earth
so that he was “no more.”
Since Jehovah is no respecter of persons
and there is “nothing new under the sun”,
then why do we know only of a single individual
who was transported to heaven in the same manner
without experiencing an earthly demise?
How many “other” Enochs were there
whose names are unknown?
Did Enoch’s life story inspire God
to put His Word into print
with the intention of history repeating itself?
Why do ministers neglect Enoch’s story?
Perhaps by contrast it would reflect
poorly on themselves,
seeing they are still with us.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Poem: Chained to Myself
To Nature's old self I cling,
although I should be a new creation
and enjoy the blessings that it brings.
I'm bound as a passive prisoner
wholly contained within my soul,
while personal chains constrict even tighter.
Jacob Marley would have been proud,
as I've forged my own binding links
that strangle the life force, which is continually cast down.
The freedom that I crave
won't be obtained by my own strength,
for only the Cross' power does truly save.
The might of the Living Word
with its reproducing, Dunamis power
enlightens my spirit with Truth that's been heard.
As long as I continue to believe,
I'll stand victorious (for the battle's already won),
overcoming false doubts and having fears relieved.
From my book "Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory"
ISBN: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
although I should be a new creation
and enjoy the blessings that it brings.
I'm bound as a passive prisoner
wholly contained within my soul,
while personal chains constrict even tighter.
Jacob Marley would have been proud,
as I've forged my own binding links
that strangle the life force, which is continually cast down.
The freedom that I crave
won't be obtained by my own strength,
for only the Cross' power does truly save.
The might of the Living Word
with its reproducing, Dunamis power
enlightens my spirit with Truth that's been heard.
As long as I continue to believe,
I'll stand victorious (for the battle's already won),
overcoming false doubts and having fears relieved.
From my book "Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory"
ISBN: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Poem: Losing Myself
Cuddling with my beloved
under the warmth of satin sheets,
I gently sense the merging of souls
as our bodies become one flesh.
Fingertip sensations reflect the excitement
that are already stirred within my spirit.
During these sweet times of intimacy,
I'm losing myself as a fading light
in the ultimate desire of Love,
as the moments are embedded
softly into our memories.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Author Note:
A wife is a gift from God.
under the warmth of satin sheets,
I gently sense the merging of souls
as our bodies become one flesh.
Fingertip sensations reflect the excitement
that are already stirred within my spirit.
During these sweet times of intimacy,
I'm losing myself as a fading light
in the ultimate desire of Love,
as the moments are embedded
softly into our memories.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Author Note:
A wife is a gift from God.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Poem: Lot's Wife
Not wanting to be rescued
from the twin, sin cities,
she's unwillingly led away
by a man she barely loves and pities.
Unable to follow God's direction
and her husband's leadership,
she succumbs to her heart's lust
for a final look, as the horizon dips.
Governed by Jezebel's spirit,
having forgotten that Jehovah honors His Word,
she's transformed into a pillar of salt
for a life no longer preserved.
Fighting tears from losing his wife
Lot takes careful steps backwards,
to gaze on her form one last time
before with a new life going forward.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
from the twin, sin cities,
she's unwillingly led away
by a man she barely loves and pities.
Unable to follow God's direction
and her husband's leadership,
she succumbs to her heart's lust
for a final look, as the horizon dips.
Governed by Jezebel's spirit,
having forgotten that Jehovah honors His Word,
she's transformed into a pillar of salt
for a life no longer preserved.
Fighting tears from losing his wife
Lot takes careful steps backwards,
to gaze on her form one last time
before with a new life going forward.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Poem: Lord, You Are...
Lord, You are my strength,
whenever I'm completely weak.
You are the spiritual delight
in Whom I only seek.
Lord, You are my morning light
that's shining above the mountain peaks.
You are my hungering desire -
For each day of every week.
Lord, You are my vigilant Father
over earthly trials through which I eke.
Please keep me mindful of Your Word,
so my attitude remains... humble and meek.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
whenever I'm completely weak.
You are the spiritual delight
in Whom I only seek.
Lord, You are my morning light
that's shining above the mountain peaks.
You are my hungering desire -
For each day of every week.
Lord, You are my vigilant Father
over earthly trials through which I eke.
Please keep me mindful of Your Word,
so my attitude remains... humble and meek.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Poem: And Yet His Hand...
Despite the trials of this earthly world
and the continued foolishness of men,
God wants His Principles completely unfurled -
For He loves His Children, while hating sin.
His anger is not turned away
and yet His Hand is outstretched still.
Our Salvation awaits its appointed day
with the meshing of our spirits to His Will.
As long as we continue to breathe,
there's Hope for us to loving cleave;
He's promised that His Spirit will never leave -
So open your heart now... and simply believe.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
and the continued foolishness of men,
God wants His Principles completely unfurled -
For He loves His Children, while hating sin.
His anger is not turned away
and yet His Hand is outstretched still.
Our Salvation awaits its appointed day
with the meshing of our spirits to His Will.
As long as we continue to breathe,
there's Hope for us to loving cleave;
He's promised that His Spirit will never leave -
So open your heart now... and simply believe.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Poem: Prism to our Past
A humbling profession is
Biblical archaeology,
where people are found prostrate -
Searching for glimpses of Man’s history.
Forgotten souls and evidence have been
covered by layers of earthly dust,
as recent discoveries now include…
The decoding of Israel’s “Exodus”.
An eclectic collection of artifacts
of the “Hyksos Expulsion” have been laid bare
by Simcha, the “Naked Archaeologist”,
on TV’s “The History Channel” everywhere.
Proposed is a brilliant theory,
that spans a labyrinth of time,
while he employs computer graphics
to capture believers’ hearts and minds.
An unending excavation
of God’s Truth will forever last,
while we focus our attention
and gaze through… His prism to our past.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Biblical archaeology,
where people are found prostrate -
Searching for glimpses of Man’s history.
Forgotten souls and evidence have been
covered by layers of earthly dust,
as recent discoveries now include…
The decoding of Israel’s “Exodus”.
An eclectic collection of artifacts
of the “Hyksos Expulsion” have been laid bare
by Simcha, the “Naked Archaeologist”,
on TV’s “The History Channel” everywhere.
Proposed is a brilliant theory,
that spans a labyrinth of time,
while he employs computer graphics
to capture believers’ hearts and minds.
An unending excavation
of God’s Truth will forever last,
while we focus our attention
and gaze through… His prism to our past.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Poem: Original Sins
Those multitudes of sin are
variations on a theme -
A reflection of the heart’s wickedness
and all the evil that Satan deems.
He himself, suffering from hatefulness and hurt,
does exploit physicality’s weakness in Man.
For Satan’s attacks continue from his being -
Eternally condemned and forever damned.
In a false semblance of our God,
the count of unique sins is three
in a twisted parallel of…
The sacred number of Trinity.
Opposing the Christ in wilderness’ testing
he perceived the Lord’s flesh failing,
but not the Spirit’s strength in handling
a confrontation with the Kingdom without ending.
These concepts –the Earthly Pride of Life
coupled with the Lust of the Flesh and of the Eyes—
maintain our separation from God
as the Devil manipulates, through deceiving lies.
The boldness of the Savior’s Truth
and the Christ’s everlasting victory
(as demonstrated by Him at Calvary)
provide True Life, when you just believe.
From my book "Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory"
ISBN: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
variations on a theme -
A reflection of the heart’s wickedness
and all the evil that Satan deems.
He himself, suffering from hatefulness and hurt,
does exploit physicality’s weakness in Man.
For Satan’s attacks continue from his being -
Eternally condemned and forever damned.
In a false semblance of our God,
the count of unique sins is three
in a twisted parallel of…
The sacred number of Trinity.
Opposing the Christ in wilderness’ testing
he perceived the Lord’s flesh failing,
but not the Spirit’s strength in handling
a confrontation with the Kingdom without ending.
These concepts –the Earthly Pride of Life
coupled with the Lust of the Flesh and of the Eyes—
maintain our separation from God
as the Devil manipulates, through deceiving lies.
The boldness of the Savior’s Truth
and the Christ’s everlasting victory
(as demonstrated by Him at Calvary)
provide True Life, when you just believe.
From my book "Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory"
ISBN: 1-4196-5051-3
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Poem: For Your Review
Once my earthly journey is complete,
humbly I’ll stand before Your judgment seat.
So in advance I faithfully pray to have
a positive ruling for you to mete.
Grace and mercy carried me;
Your covering on my life you should see.
Hopefully You’ll remember that I
promoted Your Kingdom for eternity.
Despite flaws and failures absurd,
hidden in my heart is Your Holy Word.
An attitude of lifelong praise I’ve spoken
based on what I’ve learned and heard.
With an inkling of spiritual clues,
I’m thankful for knowing You
and looking forward to that fateful day
when my life will be ready, for Your Review.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
humbly I’ll stand before Your judgment seat.
So in advance I faithfully pray to have
a positive ruling for you to mete.
Grace and mercy carried me;
Your covering on my life you should see.
Hopefully You’ll remember that I
promoted Your Kingdom for eternity.
Despite flaws and failures absurd,
hidden in my heart is Your Holy Word.
An attitude of lifelong praise I’ve spoken
based on what I’ve learned and heard.
With an inkling of spiritual clues,
I’m thankful for knowing You
and looking forward to that fateful day
when my life will be ready, for Your Review.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Daily Bread
Beyond the lost days of manna,
all nutrition I’ll ever need
was given to me at birth
with the implantation of spiritual seed.
An enabling inner spark,
combined with soul’s hungering emptiness,
allowed me to find divine connection
and a path towards your Holiness.
Thank You Lord for your Daily Bread
that feeds my spirit and sustains my soul;
for feasting on your Word everyday
is the best way to be kept whole.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
all nutrition I’ll ever need
was given to me at birth
with the implantation of spiritual seed.
An enabling inner spark,
combined with soul’s hungering emptiness,
allowed me to find divine connection
and a path towards your Holiness.
Thank You Lord for your Daily Bread
that feeds my spirit and sustains my soul;
for feasting on your Word everyday
is the best way to be kept whole.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Poem: Show of Hands
Despite the differences of skin color
and our cultural upbringings,
we're more than brothers of Mankind -
Technically, we're kin.
Go to the mountain
preserved by ice and snow
where the revelation of Ararat's secret
is available for everyone to know.
For the ark's existence
proves the global flood story is true
and being our brother's keeper...
Is still a right thing to do.
Descended from Noah
are the many races of Man;
see our palms have the same tint -
By a show of hands.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
and our cultural upbringings,
we're more than brothers of Mankind -
Technically, we're kin.
Go to the mountain
preserved by ice and snow
where the revelation of Ararat's secret
is available for everyone to know.
For the ark's existence
proves the global flood story is true
and being our brother's keeper...
Is still a right thing to do.
Descended from Noah
are the many races of Man;
see our palms have the same tint -
By a show of hands.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Poem: The Cross Stark and Still
Into the depths of untold depravity,
a perfect creation had fallen away;
unimagined grace poured out from our God above -
As His Hand of wrath was firmly stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
subtly calls for the World's attention.
Since the dawn of everlasting time,
our Savior awaited His appointed day;
despite humanity's race to certain doom -
His Hand of wrath was intentionally stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
continues to demonstrate His gift of Salvation.
The twinkling stars danced across the midnight blue
as songs arose from the angelic array;
quietly the Messianic babe in a manger lay -
As His Hand of wrath was lovingly stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
serves as a testament of Love's perfection.
A carpenter's son? He's just a man!
His godly claim on earth displayed
had believers searching for purest faith -
His Hand of wrath was securely stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
reminds that our debt was paid for sin's violation.
In the face of false accusations,
Christ held His tongue to Pilate's dismay,
for God's plan played out for all to see -
As His Hand of wrath was purposely stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
is a backdrop for a risen Lord calling us with adoration.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Author Notes:
This is a collaboration piece with Mr. Jeffrey Jordan of Wichita Falls, Texas.
a perfect creation had fallen away;
unimagined grace poured out from our God above -
As His Hand of wrath was firmly stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
subtly calls for the World's attention.
Since the dawn of everlasting time,
our Savior awaited His appointed day;
despite humanity's race to certain doom -
His Hand of wrath was intentionally stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
continues to demonstrate His gift of Salvation.
The twinkling stars danced across the midnight blue
as songs arose from the angelic array;
quietly the Messianic babe in a manger lay -
As His Hand of wrath was lovingly stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
serves as a testament of Love's perfection.
A carpenter's son? He's just a man!
His godly claim on earth displayed
had believers searching for purest faith -
His Hand of wrath was securely stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
reminds that our debt was paid for sin's violation.
In the face of false accusations,
Christ held His tongue to Pilate's dismay,
for God's plan played out for all to see -
As His Hand of wrath was purposely stayed.
The Cross, stark and still, standing upon a naked hill...
is a backdrop for a risen Lord calling us with adoration.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Author Notes:
This is a collaboration piece with Mr. Jeffrey Jordan of Wichita Falls, Texas.
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