SUNDAY POEMS ACROSTIC #4

 

SEE THE FRUITS

Simple, subtle seeds of potent packaged pow'r 

Energies awaken, burst, grow forth, then flow'r

Every fruiting tree shall bear their seeded code

Tenets true thus said, you'll know them by what's sowed

Have you seen their fruits, man? Study them, believe

Ever how they grow shall help your soul perceive

Fickle fruits confound and sour your inside.

Rip their rakish husks reveal the pith they hide

Understand this truth to know his servants sure

Inside every act you'll see their intent pure

Trees that bear God's fruits will always grow the same 

Sweetly fill your soul, give reverence to His name.

SUNDAY POEMS ACROSTIC #3

 

STUDENT IN THE PEWS

Silently amid the congregation, 

   savor every word, I must!

Tucked I am among sagacious giants, 

   gleaning from the wise and just

Underneath the shade of wisdom's shadow, 

   reaping lessons in repose

Downward falls the tender trickling teachings, 

   much in spite of my depose

Everyone around me like a river, 

   feeds my roots now deeply grown

No one asking for a pound or penny 

   for the precious seed they've sown

Thoughtfully they tend these chutes and buddings, 

   never knowing if I've bloomed

In this fertile living soil growing 

   fruits of wisdom I've consumed

Nurture now for time is short and fleeting, 

   one day I'll be moving on

Time ticks on that universal treasure, 

   only lost and can't be won

Here amid this holy congregation, 

   I will take their torch in hand

Ensign burning bright with faith-filled stories 

   guides me through new paths unplanned

Putting all my faith in God who giveth, 

   trusting much like those who taught

Each inspired pray-filled talk or lesson, 

   theirs will never be for naught

Woe to such who let the Word lay idle 

   on the shelf and gather dust

Student in the pews among the giants, 

   savor every word. You must!

SUNDAY POEMS ACROSTIC #2

PARABLE OF THE ROSEBUSH

Roses framed the house with pride 

  upon a jumbled bush revered 

Opulent and full with red each rose 

  to my green eye appeared

So thus it seemed to me my wife 

  a sadist's act with sheers and knife

Ensnared the fragile bush for trim 

  and cut each branch from trunk to limb

Bareboned and thin to my lament 

  beyond its bounds the bush was rent.

Utterly gone this shrub I thought, 

  but had I missed the lesson taught?

Such the soul of man becomes 

  when striped of all his fettered fears

HE--grows stout with fuller faith 

  and blooms much wiser 'yond his years.

SUNDAY POEMS ACROSTIC #1

 

SONGBIRD

Sorrow, guilt and nested unresolved regret

Oh to my heart the songbird doth beget.

Not from her sweetened tones of deftly song
Gliding through the glades within my heart 
But from the sting that I remised was wrong
I let her fly away, and rise from me, depart
Return to me, oh songbird! That I may find relief,
Despair to hope, and find my peace from grief.

PRAYFUL BEGINNINGS

 

PRAYFUL BEGINNINGS

        Through humble prayer a boy conceived our creed 

        To know from where the truth of God was found

        Beholding James' own words and from that seed

        Grew forth a faithful tree in fertile ground

        This boy so young, mere fourteen years of youth

        In sacred forest grove went forth to plea

        To heaven's maker, knelt and asked for truth.

        Dispelled his doubts, and calmed his wav'ring sea.

        His mortal words pierced through eternal veil

        To touched the ears of those supernal Lords.

        Their glory shone, pure darkness did expel

        Appeared two beings as he looked heavenwards.

        "Behold, Dear Joseph," pointing to the One.

        "Give ear, to hear my sole begotten son."

HEED THE CALL

 

HEED THE CALL

Where doth the God of love and virtue send

His servant whom He cherished all the night

To mend the stalks, and drying roots to tend

Within His fields that blossom blooms of white?

To them who spin and toil thus apart

And walk a burdened path through whetted rain

God sends His man with tools in hand and heart

To smoothe the spoke and lift the ladened chain.

But as the brazen wheel so turns about

Support is lent from every tine inside

That no lone man be shamed to turn and rout

But stand afirm with saged grace for guide.

Let help and aid come soon to whom travail,

Let called men heed, and may the Lord prevail.

TO BE LOVED

TO BE LOVED

What does the soul when it is not loved?

What does the seed -- without the indulging embrace of cool wet dew upon her softened shell? 

What does the marigold -- without the kiss of the golden sun upon her golden brow? 

What does the meadow filled with wild heather -- without the gaze of one upon her beauty? 

What does the fields of fragrant lavender hyssops -- without a breath of one to breathe her in? 

What does a hill filled with trails lined of Indian-paintbrush -- without a foot to walk her paths?

What does the slopes of Camas lilies -- without a hand to run across her slender dew-filled petals?

What does a flower that is not cherished?

To be loved is to live; to fill and feel the measure of her creation.

To not be loved, is to wither slowly while she waits wishing and longing in silence for the sun to rise...

...But the sun remains unveiled.