Category Archives: Life

Hate Never Wins

Cain killed his brother Abel
with a rock because of hate
But in the end
Cain didn’t win

Hate never wins

Pontius Pilate killed Jesus
had him crucified and buried
But in the end
Pilate didn’t win

Hate never wins

Caligula killed for pleasure
was a truly evil emperor
But in the end
Caligula didn’t win

Hate never wins

Ivan the Terrible killed his own son
in a fit of characteristic rage
But in the end
Ivan didn’t win

Hate never wins

Hitler killed the Jews and more
in gas chambers and by firing squad
But in the end
Hitler didn’t win

Hate never wins

Saddam Hussein killed all opposition
reigning terror on the nation he led
But in the end
Hussein didn’t win

Hate never wins

Pol Pot killed a million Cambodians
by starvation, imprisonment, and murder
But in the end
Pol Pot didn’t win

Hate never wins

Francois Duvalier terrorized Haiti
assassinating many, leaving them poor
But in the end
Duvalier didn’t win

Hate never wins

Idi Amin killed fellow Ugandans
by torture and executions
But in the end
Amin didn’t win

Hate never wins

Islamic extremists kill Christians,
Hindus, Muslims who don’t agree with them
But in the end
They won’t win

Hate never wins

Even when the battle is lost
Hate never wins its war against love

 

The prompt over at dVerse Poets Pub today is to write a poem against terrorism. Head over and check out the other offerings by poets standing up for what is right.

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My Schedule

I wrote this poem last Saturday during a poetry workshop at the Oregon Christian Writers’ 1-day winter conference. The assignment, if you will, was to write a poem similar to one titled “Holiday Concert” by Maryann Corbett. This is what I came up with. And when I read it to the group, it made me cry.

My Schedule

He needs my help; I don’t have time
I’m too busy with Bible study lessons,
calling all my ladies, leaving voicemails
They don’t want to talk
But he does, he needs me

He needs my help, my love, my advice
But there’s laundry to do, poems to write
Groceries to buy—milk, eggs, more canned goods
just like the ones already in the pantry
I’m just too busy, it never ends

He needs my help; I promise “tomorrow”
or the next day, but there’s a conference
I simply must attend, and a poem to write
and a funeral to drive to in another state,
and then work. Still he waits, patiently

But I wonder, does he know how much
I love him so, I want to help him
to listen to his woes, to encourage him
Once I’m done paying the bills and
doing the taxes and sorting the mail

One day I’ll look back and wonder why
he wasn’t a bigger part of the endless
schedule of less important things

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Filed under Family, Life, Poetry, Service, Women

Gathered

To his people God has gathered him
Those who love him mourn our loss
But sing in praise a joyful hymn
Thankful for the cross

Life will never be the same
Without his mirth, his smiling face
We’ll join him someday at Heaven’s ballgame
Thankful for God’s grace

In memory of Uncle Eddie Shane.

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The Cost

We’re jousting over at dVerse Poets Pub today as the tournament continues. The challenge is to take one line from either Brian’s or Claudia’s poem, posted there, and write a new poem with that one line included. I cheated a little and took the last two lines of Brian’s poem to create this one.

The Cost

I need no reminder
the cost.

I see it in the grieving faces
of the mourners as his funeral.

I see it in the furrowed brow
of a mother whose child is behind bars.

I see it on the network news
night after bloody night.

I see it in the mirror
looking at a life that could have been
but was delayed, hindered by disobedience and fear.

The cost of disobedience,
of “freedom” that isn’t truly free,
but a prison, as we become slaves to sin.

I need no reminder
the cost.
Still I’m reminded every day.

And then I recall the cost
He paid
to redeem what is lost.

To us the cost is consequences;
to Him the cost was to give His all
to save us from the ultimate cost.

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The Honor of the King

I’m jousting for His honor
I’m jousting for my King
I willingly wear His armor

As bride I wear His ring
It is He who defends
Of His great love I sing

To the throne He ascends
The vict’ry isn’t mine
When the enemy offends

With my King I’ll dine
Once He has won the fight
We’ll feast on bread and wine

All hail His strength and might
All hail His grace and light

 

The prompt at dVerse Poets Pub today was revealed a day early. We’re having a medieval tournament to celebrate the passing of the Pub keys from Brian and Claudia to Bjorn. So I’ve taken the tournament theme and written a terza rima sonnet of sorts about jousting.

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Pruning

The Twist and Shout — Meeting at the Bar prompt today at dVerse Poets Pub focuses on the volta at the end of a poem. I’ll let you check out Bjorn’s excellent description if you want to know more about it. I looked back over some old lessons at dVerse for a sonnet form to use and settled on the Terza Rima Sonnet from way back in May 2013. As usual, I probably didn’t get the meter right, but I liked the rhyme scheme for this prompt and the poem that I had already started earlier today.

Pruning

Jesus, intercede for me when I sin
If I loudly protest, make me mute
I must survive the Father’s discipline

Oh, Jesus, intercede when I bear fruit
Prune away enough of what is dead
But never my whole being to uproot

For my greater good I know You bled
To save me from a sinful wasted life
That I might bear abundant fruit instead

Seasons come filled with trials and strife
I cry out to You my God above
And still I must endure Your Pruner’s knife

Your pruning is a true act of love
As on my branches rests Your holy dove

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Nemesis

The Faith and Culture Writers Conference word for the day on Facebook today was Nemesis. And I saw this poem.

Nemesis

Fear, my nemesis
my arch-enemy
my long-time rival

Fear tries relentlessly
to crush me
prevent my survival

Fear once held me
tight in its grip
and I was suicidal

Fear is defeated
by my Savior
His Word in the Bible

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Ash and Sackcloth

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. It is somber holiday when we are called to consider our sinful nature and our need for a savior. As a result, it tends not to be the most popular of holidays, and yet it is an important one. For only when one understands their sinful nature, their own wretchedness, can one truly see the need for the sacrificial death and resurrection of Jesus as their savior.

Many churches have services on Ash Wednesday, including my church—Community of Faith—and the focus is on repentance. As part of the service, the pastor or priest places a cross of ash on the forehead of the worshippers.

Ash and Sackcloth

To repent in ash and sackcloth
Is a concept we scarce understand
To revel in our pleasure and sin
Is a right we fully demand

Yet repent is what God commands us
Deep down we know that we should
Still we cling to our sinful behavior
Thinking obedience will hinder our good

Disobedience displays a lack of trust
That God yearns for our perfect peace
If we repent in ash and sackcloth
Only then will our wretchedness cease

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Fat Tuesday

I wrote this poem three years ago for Mardi Gras and thought I’d share it again this year. It will be included in my next poetry book, tentatively titled “Rejoice Rejoice: Poems for Holidays, Seasons, and Special Occasions.”

Fat Tuesday

Mardi Gras
We call it Fat Tuesday
It’s the day we eat,
drink and be merry
for tomorrow we shall die
or maybe only diet

We sacrifice the things we love
→chocolate
→sweets
→coffee
→bread
→maybe our favorite TV shows

We attempt by our sacrifice
to understand
the passion of Christ, His suffering,
His sacrifice for us

He really did die,
not just diet

For 40 days we sacrifice
as if we were wandering
in the wilderness, hungry and tired
But each night we sleep in our own
warm, cozy beds
with our stomachs full
even if not with our favorite treats

Can we ever truly understand?
Perhaps not
For today, let’s just eat

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I’m a Writer

I’m a Writer

I am a writer
How do I know?
It was in my DNA long ago

If I didn’t write
I think I’d go mad
from the sentences
swirling around in my head

I’ve written most days
of this crazy life
in so many forms
in so many genres

Briefs on construction law
and civil commitment

Short stories with not much
character development

Prayers to encourage
the lost and downtrodden

Private journal entries
to cope with my own problems

Blog posts now numbering
well over one thousand

Essays on life and love
and apologetics

But much to my dismay
the writer I am today
is a poet

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