In God’s Image – A poetic Rant
When you call out inclusion, I am insulted; I believe I am a part already.
When you want to lower standards for me, I am underrated; I have high standards.
How can there be equality when I am being set apart as being different or less than by the same policies that claim equity?
Your policies are intended to keep me down, but I have never seen myself as a victim.
I am made in the image of God, and in God I trust.
I have not been able to write a poem in so long. As I watched the evening news yesterday, this one came to me, as a prayer for our nation.
A Great Eagle’s Prayer
Through the dark clouds
an eagle soars
A ray of light
its wings restores.
Following the sun
wings spread, sublime it soars
Higher and higher its climb
for land and freedom implores.
High in the sky Great Eagle sees
darkness is gone, freedom restored
For God has seen its bloody wings
flapping in prayer, closer to heaven.
High in the sky Eagle can see
the fragile land that lies beneath
Its vision keen, its wings are strong
in God it trusts, its heart has healed.
Stronger than ever the Eagle stands
in Faith, in Freedom, in Holy Land
For it has conquered darkness of soul
the serpent crushed, in God it trusts.
Christmas is just around the corner. My favorite time of the year. The reason for the season is the best part of it, the most sublime gift – Jesus Christ, King of kings. Most years, I try to write a poem for this blog during this time. I know 2020 has not been a kind year for anyone, but we should welcome the season in our hearts and be thankful that we are still around, and for many other blessings that whether we realize or not, have happened throughout this dreadful year.
A Holy Night
On a cold December night,
outside I stepped, to see the stars.
The moon shone bright,
the air was crisp.
My heart too sad to think of Him.
*
A tear I felt, and many more.
A cloud passed by
the moon it cloaked.
A heart too tired,
A heavy load.
*
Far in the sky, a light above.
A twinkling star,
Its light bestowed.
Far down below
my heart just stopped.
*
A voice I heard
deep in my heart.
“My child I am here.”
“Of you I think,
your heart I hear.”
*
The star I saw
Announced His love,
his gift bestowed.
Born is the King,
Jesus, pure love.
I will be back in January. I am very grateful for every reader and visitor of this blog, and I wish everyone a beautiful season and many blessings for 2021. Lets hang in there; this too shall pass.
Listening to the news may trigger an emotional response. In this case, a poem.
The Zombie Wife
Shattered, dry, tired, weak
broken spirit, broken will.
He stole her life, he cut her wings
Leaving her dreamless,
no soul within.
*
Poisonous love,
Ivy of lies,
Ring of deceit.
From it she drank
becoming sick.
*
No strength, no will
No wants, no needs
To break the chains,
to feel, to dream,
impossible feat.
*
A zombie wife
the nymph became.
A lonely stare, unsteady step.
A living dead
No dreams, no quest.
*
The Zombie Wife no tears has left,
No heart, no soul,
no blood to shed.
Empty her days,
her body carcass became.
*
What will it take to pump her blood?
A ray of sun, a lightning bolt?
For she has searched a withered soul,
And there she found nothing but dust.
Her only hope comes from above.
*
Her empty stare searching the clouds,
Her breathless lungs gasping for air,
Her shriveled heart has turned to stone,
Voiceless she screams,
Sound barrier broke.
*
A storm slowly brews,
lightning is seen, thunder is heard.
Tears become rain, drops of despair.
A jolting bolt strikes out her pain,
Making the dead alive again.
Photo by M.A.D.
If you watch the news, you are probably aware of the turmoil in this country. Sometimes, I feel as if the core of its foundation is trembling. I have to admit that the state of its affairs has overwhelmed me and even influence my mood and disposition. I don’t know if it is my perception but seems to me as if everything we have believed in, honored, and even taken from granted in this country is being tested in many levels.
I understand that for change to happen there has to be turmoil first; what is hidden must come to light and be known in order to facilitate change and growth. There can’t be a future without a past, and the only pathway to it is the present. With a heavy heart and love for country these words I wrote.
Country Blues
Red, white and blue
stripes, colors, liberty and woes.
Inside my heart the colors run
Red, white and blue, a patriot’s blood.
Feeling the blues
the eagle soars
deep within me
its wings so broad.
With every flap I feel its pain
looking for justice, hope, not disdain.
A nation ready to overcome
A people ready, in God we trust.
Red, white, and blue
the eagle soars anew.
Faith, liberty, justice, for one and all.
A people ready to honor God.
If I was to answer the question – What is the meaning of life? – I would answer it with one word, Love. Love is a main theme in my novels. I truly think that we are here to practice love, experience love, see love, give love, and eventually, become Love; all to be closer to our Creator. When I think about this, each one of us is a Love story in this universe. I think that animals and all nature exist as a portal to Love, so we don’t feel so removed from it. To truly love is not easy, but it is our deepest nature. Although some people might describe me as a loving person, in general, I think love doesn’t come easy to me. I’m a bit reserved and I don’t trust easily. I sincerely admire people who do, and seem to be heartily open to anyone. Some people seem to love so easily. I have to admit that through the years, after experiencing life – backstabbing, lies, people trying to use me, and seeing how humans turn against each other for the most frivolous and materialistic reasons, my trust diminished and my love is cautious.
One easy way to fall out of love a bit at a time is to watch the news everyday. It truly discourages any hope and faith we might have left, as far as the human race. Sometimes, it feels as if “the bad guys are winning,” to put it in simple words. Sometimes, love feels far away; other times, I wake up feeling as if the whole world hurts inside me. On other days, I wake up feeling the deepest love towards this planet and the people in it. It is puzzling to me. However I might feel in a particular day, one thing is very clear to me, and that is that Love is all there is, the universal truth, language, and reason. That, in itself, is reason enough to understand a bit of my existence. Love might or might not come easy to me or you, but we know that it is the purest expression, and something to cherish as well as to give away. If I could only say one prayer to my Creator it would be – Let me be love.
My next novel, which title I have not decide on yet, deals exclusively with the theme of love. I leave you with a few lines of poetry I wrote after thinking about this.
Where is the Love?
North, South, East, West
In search of love,
the Earth I swept.
*
Nothing I found, empty my quest
buried my heart,
deep in my chest.
*
To God I asked, feeling unrest
How can I love,
when there’s none left?
*
His voice I heard, Love in itself.
You did not see,
you only searched.
*
Didn’t you see Love everywhere?
Amongst the thorns, a flower bloomed
Asleep the seed under the moon?
*
For you, a bird sang,
the night gently cried,
diamonds for you, the morning dew.
*
The sun, the moon
the sea, the stars,
and the beat of your heart.
*
The song of creation, man, woman, and child
The seed deeply grows,
in everyone’s heart.
*
The newly born
A mother’s smile,
The hungry eating from another’s hand.
*
The tired old man on his death-bed sang,
the homecoming song,
ready to depart.
*
A man and his wife rebuilding a life,
A pastor at dawn,
Praying for his flock.
*
Infinite prayers from Earth fly above,
night and day I receive this love.
If you care to see, my child, you will see only Love.
While thinking about a novel I may (or may not) write, this poem made its way into my mind. I had to pen it down as soon as it showed up, and decided to include it as today’s post. I am working on two ideas for future novels, and I am unsure of what will be next (usually the loudest idea wins), while I continue to work on the current novel, which I almost lost, hence why it has taken so long to publish. I hope you enjoy this little piece of imperfect poetry.
Earth is Round No More
Earth is round no more
it has turned into a box
a square of criticism
the righteous chant of all.
Boxed in it rests our humanity,
understanding, and our love.
The lid so tightly closed
The air, stale down below.
A planet of diversity
turned into one of selfies
quick to shout geometric words
slow to think beyond the box.
Earth is round no more
Crucify the next cyber post
Messiah, of gigabytes born
The Beast claimed the throne.
Earth is round no more
Hearts are wired, brains are stoned
Earth is round no more
Heaven’s stars, fallen short.
Fallen – A Thanksgiving Poem
Rust, yellow, brown
Life becomes death
Fallen leaves, withering trees
Spirit sleeps within.
The earth sleeps countless dreams
The heart beats a million thanks
To live to die, to die to live
Spirit lives within.
A thankful heart
Fallen to Earth
Asleep in rusts
Alive, still, rests.
Spirit blesses the earth below
Awakes the heart
the sleeping soul
from dusk till dawn.
Photo by M.A.D.
Crimson Miracle
Shriveled leaf, sunrise gone
Shriveled life, blue moon shone
Risen anew, ashes to dust
Wind gentle blows, caressing soul.
Cycle of perfect harmony
A thankful heart beats on
Season of crimson miracles
To live, to die, and be reborn.
Photo by MAD
Today I share an inspirational image of a cluster of roses among thorns. I took this picture one summer. Sometimes an image inspires a poem. This picture inspired this one. I hope you become inspired by the image as well.
Miracles Abound
Lonely soul, scattered dreams
tears of sorrow, never seen.
Cast the shadows in the mist
dark of hours, felt within.
Search for light, where not seen
look for love, deep within.
Sorrow blasts a creation act
Miracles abound in your backyard.
Nestled by thorns, shade, and morass
your light awaits, to bloom, to shine.
Pure white flower, fragrant soul
Miracles abound, right by your side.
Covered by thorns, beauty asleep
ready to sprout the seed within
Atlantis lost, Eden bestow
Where there is hope a bloom will show.
