Tag Archives: nightshift

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: “Over and Over Again”

Over and Over Again

As black as two in the morning spawning hate,
Your heart is dry; your love is late-
A well untapped of better things. You wait
With eyes-wide-closed you stare and paint.
One glance from you leaves others bruised.

I saw the cloud hanging over you
Like a falling kite,
Like a shadow cast from hidden light,
Like a deranged and mangy angel of the rotten kind
Sent to trample on your wandering mind
(King-hit-you from behind),
In times like these you better hide
Over and over and
Over and over again.

I saw a hoax laid like Kauffman’s grave,
Your name was changed and made profane:
a shame to friends and family,
a simple parody of what you used to be.
You’re not a man to me
But a stationery
Adolescent filled with hate and greed.

As pale as a shade of grey,
You’re old but in another way
So young and dumb
You have succumbed
To the darts of the enemy,
To the things you used to do
And to the things they put you through.

But then you put away those childish things,
I saw it all change in you
then change back.

I saw the cloud lift from over you,
Just like Lazarus turned backwards
and away from what is hazardous,
When you met your Maker (who never forsakes you)
Then it changed your nature.
There’s only one requisite to be alive
And that one thing is: you have to die
Over and over and
Over and over again.

Monday poem- “The incident”

The coincidence

The incident was no coincidence
But a necessary lesson to pause,
To stop and consider his flaws-
The things that need to change
Be rearranged
Or left the same.

In the future years
He learned not to worry about perfection
Or gaining affection,
And to just focus on the pause.

The incident taught him to pray,
Not the words to say
But an honest way,
And the incident taught him to live
And the incident taught him to love.
What a blessing
That his unfortunate “coincidence” was
Another lesson from above.

Monday Poem- “Tent (Night II)″

Tent (Night II)

We left the tent and ventured out
Quiet at first, then hysterical and fast
Not wanting to get caught by noise or dark
Or by anyone else about.

With the tent that housed us not in sight
We each submitted to adventures dares,
Our whispers failed to mask our scare-
It is a foreign world at night.

Even the most mundane finds
Provide mystical and magical awe
And are different objects than before,
When we leave the tent behind.

We play games and just pretend
That we are adults and not just small boys
Until the bushes move and make a noise
Then we bolt back to the tent-
Willing night to end.

Monday Poem – “Sweet Morning, Come”

Sweet Morning, Come

Sweet Morning, come
Sweet Morning, come

Sweet Morning back me up
Give flight to sorrows
Sweet Morning help me out, come now
Allow new thoughts to follow

Whatever Night has
Let it be revealed
With haste give chase to
Sorry thoughts and change the way I feel

Sweet Morning, come
Sweet Morning stay with me
Sweet Morning bring your light and warmth
And let my mind go free.

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!

Monday Poem – “The darkness sings”

The darkness sings

When in the absence of light
I heard the darkness sing.
I listened close to hear the melody
And prophetic moments it would bring,
And it screamed to
Before it is too late,
And let
Be without hate.

For the darkness missed the light
And its longing gave me sight
To see
The needs
And be
The me
I am at day tonight,
Both in darkness and in light.