Tag Archives: night

Monday Poem – “Alive to dead to having life”

Alive to dead to having life

I shivered
Then quivered
Then ummmed and ahhhed,
I couldn’t find a way to start,
I didn’t have the words to say
But like a child asked something anyway-
“How do I remember this moment?
Lord, how do I own it?
Good sir, I want to know it-
How do I make life a friend, not an opponent?”

He replied
“My little child-
Death to pride,
Death to lies,
And death to self!
This moment’s ripples will be felt
Through all the generations-
Beyond all imagination
But you have to die first (death to self).
This moment’s offspring will be plentiful
But first you have to die.
You see,
A child must die to silly things
And rise to the changes happening,
Then a bachelor dies on his wedding night,
To become a husband to his wife.
Then as a husband put himself away
And serve his queen both night and day.
Each and every sacrifice
Is a rite of passage ordained by Christ.
And that is how to love your life
To give up your ‘needs’, your ‘wants’ and ‘rights’”

I wanted to cry,
My Lord said I had to die?
I wanted to argue, crow and fight
But of course I could see my Lord was right
And besides, He had died the first death for me
When His naked Son lay on that tree.
He has obliterated my debt,
He has died that first death.
He has taken me into Him, now I am blessed!
He has laid my arguments to rest.
And may they rest in pieces on the floor,
May this moment last forever more.
From boy to man to child,
From alive to dead to having life.
From the lowest lows to highest heights.
From dying to self to living for Christ.

Monday Poem- “Patchwork Quilt”

Patchwork Quilt

Not like clockwork but like patchwork
The old man pulls together
His last remaining
And fastly draining days.
Each stitch he’s sewing
Is quickly slowing
His rhythm and timing
But he keeps on stitching
(Keeps on shining)
Because he knows he ain’t got long
And who wants a tightly-wound-up old clock?
Isn’t that boring
Compared to this quilt?
Isn’t his story,
Patched from scraps that he’s been dealt,
Still imploring
An exchange of knowledge
For what can be experienced and felt?

So this old man
Will add patches
Thread by thread
By thread by thread
Until the clock runs out
And this patchwork-man is dead,
But the life he lives will keep going
Long after he stops sewing
Because the patchwork quilt gives warmth to all who know him.

Monday poem “Sneaky” (or “Unheard, unseen”)

Sneaky (or “Unheard, unseen”)

She couldn’t see or hear
When Death was near,
He just showed up
Then disappeared
With friends of hers
Each time he came.
Some left in peace,
Some left in pain,
Others asked for life
To intervene-
To stir things up
And cause a scene
But Death was nasty,
Mad and mean
And showed up often
Unheard but keen.

Monday Poem- “Odd Couple 6”

Odd Couple 6

His heart is thick as leather
And his mind is kind of weathered
But he opens up and has a chat to her.
She’s the kind of lady
Who just loves to call him baby
But then cuts him with the gaps between her words.
How can it be that these two strange foes
(Who looks like cane toads)
Can be on the same road?
How is it they’re alone
But in the darkness they’re at home
Like leather and pain,
They sever the chains,

An unlikely odd couple
Watched on from above
(Cheered on in love)
By angelic dances and sovereign glances
Whose eyes penetrate smokes and booze
As much as empty pews,
Looking for a chance
To commission romance
And paint a pretty picture,
They replaced elixirs with scriptures
When Cupids arrow hit them.

these fools leave stools.
These ghouls find jewels.
Their hearts awoken
(Three-corded strands
Cannot be broken).
Ugliness redeemed
When the odd couple teamed