“-MO! And here we are! Oh look!
A thing! And stuff! And words to read,
The poet’s pen upon the page
With purpose, like in Pond’s old book.
Oh Pond… But wait! Oi! You right there!
You placed a call to me in need
Of inspiration in this age.
Well here I am with fez and hair!
… No, that’s a rubbish entrance. So!
You need a poem topic, eh?
Have you considered space and time?
Just pick a place you’d like to go.
The universe is out my door,
A new horizon ev’ry day,
Enough to fill your ev’ry rhyme.
See what the TARDIS has in store…”
. . .
Sometime, somewhere, in the future:
“Psychic paper text:
‘WRITER SEEKING DOCTOR’S NOTE’
“Well then… GERONI-”
Here’s the setting: You’re sitting in a restaurant with your friends enjoying dinner. This is one of those restaurants that offers complimentary ice cream cones after every meal, and the ice cream machine has been getting a steady stream of traffic since you sat down. As you watch, kids all across the building scarf down their food with enthusiasm before turning (with mouths still full of their last bites) to their parents to get permission to go get ice cream. The kids can hardly stay in their chairs, hopping down and running to the ice cream machine as soon as they get the go ahead. You watch as little boys and girls figure out just how high they can get their soft serve to go on their little cones, and you laugh as the once clean faces are now being painted with vanilla. But then you notice one little boy crying.
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O Pain, the voice that must be heard,
The sound that will not be ignored-
It calls for us to further gird
Our souls with clothing of the Lord.
For we cannot afford to live
Assuming life is only ease.
The sandy ground beneath must give
If we would God’s salvation seize.
And as the dark illusion falls
And we see our mortality,
We find our rest in Kingly halls
With Life for all eternity.
To think a parchment marked by nib and ink
Contain the cautions of a holy curse
And riches rivaled by no ruler’s purse.
The scratches of the quill upon the page
Tell stories of the only perfect sage.
Come to the flowing fountain then and drink,
And find the firm foundation from the flood.
Be buried by the bounty of the blood.
The crossroad of your life is at the cross.
Be brought to life, and lose the life of loss.
The Message of the Maker is the Man.
Find pardon, peace, and purpose in his plan.
Dreams came true at Comic Con. I watched as fans were literally so star struck before their favorite actress that they couldn’t form coherent sentences. I saw multitudes stand in line to take pictures with big name actors after paying quite a sum of money for the privilege. I got my picture taken with a Dalek (for free) and was able to try on some Wolverine claws after attending a Doctor Who “Q&A” session featuring a celebrity guest. And, to top it all off, General Mills was giving away boxes of Batman and Superman breakfast cereals. Day seized.
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What God has spoken then
Seems lost before the now,
The call to enter in
Eclipsed before the how.
The weight of life doth wear
Upon the focused brow,
But God knows ev’ry care.
He ever keeps his vow.
So trust we now our King
And hope in his command
And with the angels sing,
For he has made us stand.
We do not face his wrath-
For we now walk his path,
The purpose he hath planned.
Though circumstances prod,
Fulfilment we shall see,
In spite of shield or sword
Or strong desire to flee.
Thus says the Lord our God,
And thus it comes to be.
The promise of the Lord-
I probably like a good journal and pen a bit too much. I get excited about stationery and fine paper. And when my friends want to walk around a massive mall and take in the sights, my first stop is the store with the really expensive writing utensils. Call me crazy, but there’s something about the feel of a good pen on fine paper that stirs my affections for the Lord.
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The days increase that make up time behind,
And days unknown to us now lie before
Our feet, whose steps we never can rewind,
But must advance through this now open door.
The times around us change with each new day
Regardless of our feelings for the change.
Unsteady is the ground we wish would stay;
Our lives seem always set to rearrange.
But steady and unshakeable is truth,
And most dependable is God above.
For all the elderly and all the youth,
The constant in the universe is Love.
So hope as this new year begins to dawn,
And trust the Lord whose reign goes ever on.