Tag Archives: creation

Monday Poem- “Origin or sin”

Origin or sin

“Let there be something”
Said no one to nothing
But no sound was found-
There were no words to be heard,
Or ears to hear
Or speaking lips
Or a medium which
Sound could exist.
Nothing.
No thing.
Not a thing,
But then it exploded.
A likely story
That although boring
Helps us sleep at night.

Matter splattered,
Protons, atoms,
Suddenly happened
And arranged themselves in order.
Primal chaos reigned
And then became
More complex
But I confess
That it’s insane for me
To just believe
A theory as fact-
The big bang of the gaps
Doesn’t tell me crap.

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Monday Poem: “Quiver”

Quiver

Not by reason
Or by thinking
Does one deny the supernatural.

When did we assume to be grander
Than the mysterious?
To be not quivering in our boots
But instead be smug and serious
Enough to smile in denial?
Doesn’t nature demand
More than a second glance
And get her well-earned chance
To speak to those who seek?
Or do we drown out its lessons
With pride-filled transgressions
And self-focused sessions-
A million and one excuses
And opinion-filled abuses
Of scientific jargon
and science-fiction pardons?

For just as man screams “I exist”,
Nature demands that we just sit
Still to listen to her sermon,
She is passionately determined
To point us to her God
Who has no obligations
To His creations
Except to be Himself.

Monday Poem – “Night time” (or “The early bird catches the worm but the late mouse gets the cheese.”)

Night time
(or “The early bird catches the worm but it’s the late mice that get the cheese.”)

How is it that birds know bedtime?
Where do they go?
How do they know?
Is it in their beaks?
Do their wings grow weak?
Did they evolve all at once on a global level?
Or was it Gods plan or just mans or the devils?

Are they afraid of the dark
Or is it just the stark
Reality that there really is no reason to
Stay up for most birds?
Perhaps they just all heard
Clichés about who gets the worm.

Well they can have their rest
And their little nests
Because I like the night the best,
When the worms roam free.
It’s the late mice who get the cheese…
The late mice, the night-worms and me!