Poetry

Words

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Our words divide. They rend each other’s souls.
The Word rends our division, offers peace
To war-torn hearts that long for true release
From slavery, from talk’s eternal tolls.
Our words deceive. They prove our father well.
The Word destroys deception in his wake
And takes e’en death’s ability to take
That souls may surely hope to ‘scape from hell.
Our words decay. They cannot help but fade.
The Word will never not be, shall endure
Should sea and sky be shaken. He is sure,
Salvation for the burdened and afraid.
Lord, teach our tongues, if e’er we speak, to be
Tamed by the Truth, to ever echo thee.

Photo by Alejandro Escamilla on Unsplash

Bitterness

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Bitterness inhabits me,
Burns within these weary bones,
Breaks the heart’s song, shifts the key —
Melodies to monotones.

Feelings fixate on frustrations,
Fast forgetting joy and peace.
Anger turns to accusations
As emotions seek release.

Father, temper this, my temper,
Tossed midst waves of woes and whims.
Devastate my vile distemper.
Heal my heart through holy hymns.

Christ has borne more suffering,
Bears me up in all I face.
Make of me an offering.
Let me ever sing of grace.

Photo by Alina Chupakhina on Unsplash

From Bossier to NOLA

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Down the forty-nine to ten we travel.
Feasts of kings and cakes, our destination.
Down we go, our worries to unravel.
Food and fellowship, our motivation.
Past the city’s lights and steel magnolias.
Past the airbase and the coliseum.
Past the capital after Angola.
Past the lakes and rivers and museums.
Standing still, undrowned through stormy seasons,
History endures through celebration.
All Louisiana knows her treasure.
So we travel for our varied reasons –
Stories, memories, anticipation –
Seeking carnival in greater measure.

Photo by NICO BHLR on Unsplash

Thanks to Dustin Hadley for providing the topic and title for today’s poem.

Little Windows

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Little windows show us shocking visions,
Tempt us to expect what is not fitting,
Make into our minds subtle incisions,
May be slyly twisting and remitting
Our convictions. Still, we give attention.
Still, we turn away from concentration.
Still, we stoop to savage condescension.
Still, we step into the conflagration.
Portals to such vast opportunities
May, in truth, be endless winding hallways.
Consider steps in these communities.
Keep perspective. Know that there is always
More to life than windows ever show us,
More to lose than windows ever show us.

Photo by ROBIN WORRALL on Unsplash

Give Me a Love for People

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Give me a love for people,
For runny noses and achy heads,
For homesick widows with empty beds,
For orphaned children who long for homes,
For refugees on a strange sea’s foams,
For unwashed sweaters and hole-filled shoes,
For ears weary with unhappy news,
For feeble bodies both young and old,
For hearts white-hot and for hearts now cold,
For neighbors nearby and far away,
For friends who go and for friends who stay,
For enemies who have not earned peace,
For captives awaiting their release,
For those who share my blood and my name,
For names I would prefer not to claim,
For fallen minds that think much like me,
For souls with whom I still disagree,
For happy voices singing their songs,
For those I fear because of their wrongs,
For tongues I do not now understand,
For both innocent and guilty hands,
For those remembered, those forgotten,
For both highborn and misbegotten,
For image bearers in ev’ry form,
For the lost, the fervent, the lukewarm.
Give me a love for people.

Photo by John Simitopoulos on Unsplash

The Misfit Syndicate – a group effort

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Six guys from college have kept in touch consistently over the last number of years. Cade, Dustin, Jeff, Kevin, Will, and myself have shared encouragement, accountability, and laughs through seasons of difficulty as well as seasons of joy. Last year, they challenged me to write a blog post or a poem on any subject of their choosing for each of their birthdays. This year, they collaborated on a poem for mine. I suggested they write about the brotherhood of believers, using our group as an example, and I’m excited to share their work with you below.

Thanks, guys!

Isolation.
Sequestration.
No man was meant for the hermit’s Operation

Accountability.
Brotherhood.
How some men will stand the opposition of wormwood

Emotionless.
Stoic.
No man was meant for the pure role of heroic.  

Scripture.
Games.
Binded by the Lamb’s blood running through our veins.

Gandalf.
The Doctor.
A fan of these, as well as soccer.

Jaime Vardy.
Leicester City.
Go hand in hand like Joe and witty.

Friend.
Brother.
A man like Joe, there could never be another.

How then must these truths be taken?
None other than creating mancation!

A dream to most
We created a weekend of chaos, I must boast

But in the Cross that is
For it is no credit of our own, this work is simply His.

The game playing,
coffee drinking and steak eating will fade.

But this brotherhood is fraternal.
It cannot be broken, for this bond is eternal.

•HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JOE THE WALLER•

Photo by Alex Holt on Unsplash