Category Archives: poetry

Happy Hunting

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A shotgun or rifle, the choice is yours.  What are you trying to do?

Bundle a number of pens together, to write each word red to blue.

Infect all men with urgent notice, or to great strength save but a few.

If the former fits your hunting skills,  by all means give it a whirl.

If the latter is more your liking, then be careful with every swirl.

A writer for Christ is he who attempts, to add to the number of men.

It is not his duty to be in the trench, where His soldiers pray loud amens.

There is room for the net, the spear, and the hook.

But let God’s wordsmiths use careful look:

At where he is sent, and what purpose may be.

As he serves the Christ Jesus, “Eternal Majesty”.

By His Grace

The Son and the Moon

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Man cannot look at the Son without wincing.

But delight is found in the early morning moon.

For He was born in the fires of summer.

While the moon reflects His Glory forever.

Let the world find its place of shade.

Let His people bask in His majesty.

They can tear at reflection from their darkness of sleep.

But He they will never touch again!

By His Grace

The Sulking Slave

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My skin and flesh,

My brain, heart and home.

0′ meager, insufficient friend,

Where are you going

With your head hung so low?

What displaces your joy with trouble?

Is it I?

You pout with the tears

Of a teenage girl.

Yet I only ask you in taunting;

It is not as if I care, or dare,

To lift up your expectations.

You will serve me well,

Long past your desire.

You will rise to retrieve:

What gives my feet wings.

You do not provide me food or water,

Though I feed you and quench your thirst.

Your place you cannot accept.

There is no abandon in your chores.

There is no spring as you drag your feet.

For I will not give you

What you think is yours.

So then, where are you going,

My desperate, lonely friend?

To work with you,

And then the grave,

That is your mortal end.

You are not worthy to clothe me;

You are not prime for His Glory.

I’ve shown you your place,

I’ll demand your attendance.

Until your replacement is found.

By His Grace

Skittish, No More!

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The food is prepared.

Properly portioned;

Abundant in flavor and appeal.

_____

A trek is made down the mountain,

To the edge of the woods;

Where the spacious plains abide.

That place where,

Trees of potential wander about;

Without meaningful knowledge.

_____

With stealth before the dawn,

Loving hands deliver the gift.

Then quietly, invisibly,

I slink back to my place

Among the trees that Are.

_____

Watch and wait.

Wait and watch.

Will the fearful ones come to eat?

The breeze of the day

Comes down from the mountain,

Sending the scent their way.

How careful they are,

For they perceive;

This is not a natural food.

But hunger and curiosity win;

Shaky legs bring them near.

_____

“Eat, desired ones!”

This whisper finds no voice.

_____

Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Rise up and come join me.

Together we will Live,

On the mountain of His Hope.

There, we will, with unity, prepare:

Meals of Great delight.

We will, together, come;

To the place of “delivery”.

_____

Unspeakable joy shall be ours.

For the Giver, Himself,

Takes unspeakable joy at providing.

Let us provide then!

_____

Let Him add to His

Number of joyous cooks.

By His Grace

Afraid to DEATH

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Afraid to testify.

“Oh my!”

Afraid to be rejected.

(Afraid to be included,

By the only One who matters;

Afraid to be singled out,

Afraid of the label of Christian,

Afraid to be introduced to what is

Holy, lasting, pristine.

Afraid to take part with Christ

In this Holy war of will.)

Afraid to lose.

Afraid to win.

Afraid of hell.

Yet afraid to enter in.

SO BE IT!

Do you think you’ll go unnoticed,

When you stand with all the rest;

When God throws away the useless,

And blesses what is best?

May it be done as you have believed.

How much fear do you think you will own,

When your name is not found in the book?

For now you fear their perception.

Don’t you fear God’s contemptuous look?

If fear has held you hostage,

What will that moment be?

For now you fear what Man can do;

Who can only harm your body.

A man belongs to whom he serves.

Dishonor strives to keep what is his;

Not considering the honor of Christ.

Honorable love fears the One who IS.

Understanding that Holy, paid price.

SO BE IT!

Honorable love honors He who IS.

It says, “I will stop my cowering.

I will give myself to what is His”.

“SO BE IT!”

Weeping and gnashing of teeth belong

To the weak and faithless many.

Who hid among the rebellious throng,

Trying to save “life“,

As if pennies.

By His Grace

The Bridal Gown

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Wisdom, please come and take me,

Show me what I don’t know.

Come, Holy Spring Storm, and shake me,

Expose me from head to toe.

I must be dressed for a meeting.

And there I shall wear no tatters.

So, seamless a gown let’s start making.

Eternity’s thread is what matters.

By His Grace