My Poems

 
 
 
   I hope you enjoy.  
 
 
 In Justice

Is friendship just a passerby? 
Is God just watching from on high?
Has right been left by all the wrong?
Can words and tune still make a song?

Do mortals wait at Heaven’s gate
To find some love instead of hate?
And if that love will show her face,
Will death haste on to take her place?

Will sun and moon both fade away, 
And will the night replace the day?
Will stars be crushed into hard coal 
That adds more dark to man’s dead soul?

The piece of man that can’t transcend
Will bring about his mortal end.
With water once, and then the flame;
His sin will bring about the same.

The demons danced upon a grave
Of One Who claimed He came to save,
But sealed they were within their doom
When He, alive, stepped from the tomb.

Yes, God still guides us from above 
And with us as a God of love. 
So when you see the wealth of fools,
You just remember -- God still rules!
 
 

 

Ghost Land
 
Not sudden death unto your soul,
Not total death upon the whole;
A pale blanket wrapped 'round your head
As you retire to your grave-bed.
 
A million souls float through your skies;
Another added when another one dies.
Souls swirling in a mournful breeze
Plummet into the colorless seas.
 
Cold and dark your hoary tomb,
A respite from your sweltering doom.
Beneath the bare-armed sentinels lies
A haze from whence the spirits rise.
 
A spark of life turns all to red,
Renewing that which once was dead.
The pale blanket is burned away;
A translucent sheet beneath gives way.
 
Soon the sheet, too, fades in time;
Life-giving waters expunge the grime.
Dormant skeletons regain their skin,
And the cycle of life begins again.
 
 
 
. . . Time . . .
 
Relentlessly you haunt all of mankind,
With change and age and then on to the end.
The past, forgotten memories behind,
Lost family, old enemies and friends.
All human lives you hold in your tight grasp,
Your fingers closing dark over their minds.
Good-byes are said as tightened voices rasp.
A lonely heart and spirit someone finds.
A taciturn soul repents of his lack;
The butterfly spreads his wings and away!
You, O Time, lead on the life-long racetrack,
A man ever tries to keep you today.
A clock has arms that ever reach for me;
A face without eyes to see it must be . . .
 
The Slow Enduring Snail
 
The slow enduring snail,
I saw how on an endless trip it moved tirelessly,
Saw how it carried it small protective shell
It continued on ever, ever, ever in through life,
Never giving complaint, never needlessly wasting time.
 
And you O wise snail how you feel,
Burdened, ignored, through seamless moments of time,
Never complaining, wishing, wondering, asking the questions of all times,
When the questions you have asked be answered, when the forever wondering done,
When the infinite trip you take ends nowhere, O wise snail.
 
 

Stingless

Loosened from the mortal coil; 
Life’s last sunrise now has past. 
Casing hidden in the soil,
Sealed within its wooden cast.

Never waking, sleeping now,
Eternal rest in dreamless dark;
Life now keeps its only vow,
Stealing back its promised mark.

Empty, cold and bare again 
Does the body leave its soul --
Coming from a loving womb
And going to a hateful hole.

No more friendship, no more peace,
No more sunshine’s smiling face;
No more life, all thoughts cease,
No more love -- not in this place!

Coldness weighs like lead and stone
And pulls into the earth below,
But warmth creeps into soul alone --
Warmth from the blood shed long ago. 

From the ground into the sky,
Forgetting all earth’s pains and charms,
Wingless, weightless up I fly
Into His loving, waiting arms.

I stand within a holy place,
And ere a single thought’s begun,
My Father looks into my face
And, smiling, says, “Welcome home, son.” 



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