(Wrote this out of experience. This is one of my first attempts at poetry. Do let me know what you think, about the style, meter, rhyming, theme, readability, do you agree with the contents, etc.)


Shivering, he crawls
Trembling, groveling, groping, weeping
Down on his knees, face to the ground
All dignity gone…
Grasping, groping, out stretched arms
Pleading, racked with cruel addiction
He crawls, prostrate before his idol
The once proud soldier, bright eyed
Warrior of the Most High
Now humbled, racked with cruel addiction
Oppression, seduction, addiction!
Sweat and tears harass his eyes
Unshaven, unkempt, undone, he kneels
His back to the lamb, on he crawls
Forwards, backwards, groping, so blind
Addiction firmly gripping his mind
Darkest deepest black where evil reigns
All light shut out, willfully
All pleadings fall on closed ears
His eyes on the idol, on he crawls
The blood on the cross has left his mind,
The face of the Savior blocked out of his mind
On he crawls…

(The demon speaks)
Shriek! Wail! Shiver
You sniveling cur!
Worthless miry scum, my wrath incur!
Disdain, distaste, disgust
For nothing more than a shell, a crust!
A crust, a shadow, a semblance of you
A throw-away pawn in His majesty’s crew
Kneel, dog!

Face to the ground, weeping, racked with cruel addiction
Matted hair mixing with salty tears, depression
All hope blotted out, all blackness in the sky
Something noble inside him begins to die
And then bucks and strains
No! Resist! Get up! His soul begins to cry
Up! King’s man! Courage, be strong!
Something noble inside him breaks
A flash of brightness!
Begone, foul dwimmerlaik!
His arms awake!
Light returns to his dimmed eyes
Awaking as from a dream
Strength returns to the feeble sinews
His hand rests upon his brand
Logos.
The carrion-beast blanches
Teeth bared, claws out
Logos flies out!
A flash, a head rolls
Up he stands
The proud warrior once more
Eyes clear, brand in hand
Something noble inside him cheers
He looks behind him
His eyes rest upon the Prince
His sheath is empty
So is the Prince’s
He was there the whole time!
Whence did the brand come?
Whence did the flash come?
Whence?

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord ,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord watches over you—
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

My lovely kit arrangement in Shalom Hall. Ain't it pretty? Shinyyyy...:p

Me and me momma!

The Prayer

My heart and flesh cry out to you, O God my strength and hope.
Search my innermost motives,
Delve into my deepest being,
Light the fire of refining,
Place my heart in your crucible,
I submit to your hand,
I open my heart to you,
Search me, try my reins,
Burn, burn the fire of refining,
My motives, my desires, my emotions,
Burn, burn the fire of refining,
The dross of my iniquity,
Burn away,
The dross of my sins,
Burn away,
Impure thoughts, impure motives,
Burn away,
Lies, deception, hurt, guilt,
Burn away,
The dross from the silver,
Burn away,
Till you come to the core of my being,
The true self, the part of me that yearns for you,

Peel back the layers of sin and guilt,
Cut away repression, depression, transgression,
Reach into my heart, burn,
Shine, shine your light,
Turn your face toward me,
Shine the light of your face,
Into my heart, through the opaque waste of its sinful exterior,
Right through, strike through,
Clean into the very core of me,
There plant a seed,
A seed of desire,
Desire for the courts of the Living God,
Desire for the smile of the Highest Mirth,
Desire for the crown from the Highest Crown,
Desire for you,

That my heart may be perfect before you,
Ever striving for you, beating for you,
Longing for your touch, your smile, your face,
Yearning for your name to be lifted up,
Into your hands I commit myself,
Laying my life into the palm of your hand,
I trust you,
Burn, burn away,
Till the silver emerges from the dross,
Till the crucible brings forth pure,
Unadulterated, clean,
Silver fit for use,
Ready to be shaped, formed, fashioned,
Under the hand of the Master Smith.

Ode to Man

Influenced by C.S. Lewis d...:p Sorry if it's a bit deep or obtuse...enjoy!

The first thing that strikes me is his voice, before his face or hands or hair or garb: that sing-song voice that ebbs and falls and tickles my ears like the tinkle of rain on the windowsill; that earthy, sincere voice that forcibly transports me to the days when, contented and secure, I leaned against my father’s strong chest after a quiet bedtime story. His voice rings with confidence and makes me smile. It is possessed of that melodic quality peculiar to the Indian dialects and has an effect on me not unlike that of strong, stirring music, of pulsating drums and rhythm and piercing strains of woodwind. My lips involuntarily curl into a smile, and my heart seems to be unaccountably lightened. His presence seems to fill the cold room with the warmth of the sun, the song of the birds, the coolness of the sea-breeze, the brilliance of colorful flowers, and the laughter of children all at once. It is as if the very air, that dead and stifling air that occupies the room, is quite suddenly sucked out from the room and replaced with Real Air, Air that God intended us to breathe, that fills one’s lungs and lends vigor to the limbs and mind. A profound freshness and earthiness seems to hang about him.

And then his head: it sways and bobs and cocks with the music of his voice, accentuating the rhythm, pronouncing the melodies of his words, alien though they may be to me. His kindly eyes grab hold of your gaze. Guileless they are; for only those whose hearts have been cleansed of deception can withstand the fire of holding the gaze of another human being beyond a fleeting glance. When he speaks to you, he speaks to you with his voice, his head, his heart, his hands, his eyes…all of him goes into every word.

Presently, he raises his right hand in a salute to me. I observe the energy and reliability that rests in that arm, quite certainly accustomed to hard work, its sinews hardened by years of toil. The skin of his palms have a sort of leathery, rough character about them. They inspire confidence and invite one to trust them, to trust the owner of those hands, to rest assured in their reliability and safety.

I raise my right hand in reply, and my eyes meet his as my face lights up with a smile much larger and brighter than I intended, as if he, by his mere presence, makes one laugh deeper and more heartily and smile with more heart. His face! It shines with peculiar beauty! And those eyes! Deep, fathomless eyes; eyes that pour forth rivers of tears in times of sorrow, that laugh and flash and dance in delight when Joy is entertained as a guest, eyes that have seen so much, and that look upon others with love.

Some have spoken of how the spirit shines forth through the thin veil of our fleshly bodies, for good or for ill. Those who choose the paths of Darkness and the servitude of the Powers of this Realm emanate a deathly, sickly air that stifles and suffocates and excites dormant battle instincts. In their presence one is hard pressed to suppress one’s revulsion, repugnance and disgust and has to keep one’s fists firmly pinned to one’s side for fear of losing control of it, yielding to their repeated entreaties to batter his face into a jelly. But those who submit themselves under the Hand of the Master Craftsman, who live in obedience and love toward the Highest Good, whether they wit it or no, cannot but imbue serenity, good-will and life into the air that surrounds them. Such is the manner of this man. Looking into his eyes, I see the image of God, for the Creator said before he fashioned us from the dust of the earth, “Let us make man in our own image”. I catch a glimpse of a shadow of the beauty of the Lord: his faithfulness, his grace, his perfect justice, and above all, his all-encompassing, all-conquering, all-consuming Love. If I had lost confidence in the words of God at the end of the Genesis of this earth: “It is good”, I find it again in this man.