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poetry

Bob Gotti, 7 december 2013

Controlling All

It is The Lord God who chooses, every doctor that He uses,
To treat the cancer deep in me, to heal my dreaded infirmity;
And with allowing each procedure, this for certain, I am sure,
Granting grace along the way, for every single hospital stay.

He directs my path with grace, dictating every doctor’s pace,
Never allowing what might be, controlling what is best for me,
When His providence did override, the procedure was denied,
Surely not the doc’s first choice, God trumps the doc’s voice.

Such has been the way of God, on this present journey I trod,
Along the journey with my wife, while in the autumn of our life,
A journey that wasn’t our choice, but, in God we could rejoice,
For God holds us in His hand, in times difficult to understand.

With another procedure behind, we in God had peace of mind,
With God’s peace in our heart, knowing Christ wouldn’t depart,
Who, is that light upon our path, through all and any aftermath,
We, not knowing what’s ahead, lean upon Jesus Christ instead.

With more ahead down the road, God will help lighten our load,
As we cast all burdens to Him, Christ gives us His peace within,
And with decisions yet to be made, at His feet they can be laid,
While we lean upon Jesus Christ, through all the trials in our life.

(Copyright ©01/2012 Bob Gotti)

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Bob Gotti, 7 december 2013

What A Ride

Present life can be one big ride, but, in my life God is glorified,
As The Lord guides me through, times and places He foreknew,
Times He ordered in my life, in that I could lean on Jesus Christ,
While God leads me from above, all through this ride I speak of.

My ride has valleys and hills, but lacking an amusement’s thrills,
For although each hill was high, at times they’d bring just a sigh,
Although at times it brought relief, time on the hill was only brief,
With yet another valley in view, that time was short, this we knew.

For on this ride I wasn’t alone, the experience wasn’t just my own,
Along with me in this ride of life, was a God provided loving wife,
By my side in the good and bad, a comfort when times were sad,
Comforted, not only by His grace, but by my wife in all we’d face.

The Lord was with us at every turn, as we helped each other learn,
God’s ways in dark times, as He comforted our hearts and minds,
And when on a hill we’d plateau, in our ride we had come to know,
Hearing the joy within her voice, together in God we would rejoice.

The time together in which we spend, upon this ride will soon end,
For Eternity is ahead for both of us, together with our Lord Jesus,
As soon we’ll both leave this place, to a home afforded by Grace,
And before in my life I have died, I shall say to Christ, what a ride!

(Copyright ©01/2012 Bob Gotti)

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Gert Strydom, 6 december 2013

From the days of yonder

From the days of yonder
you did prepare our garden beautifully
and like a English teagarden
planted several flowers together
that they can spread
their magical fragrances and colours throughout any season

and now that summer is coming

and God lets His rain pour down
our garden has become a piece of paradise.

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Satish Verma, 6 december 2013

ONCE MORE

He nearly jumped
from the cliff shrinking back to
the old avatar.

Crossing the dawn in
winter of life for a gift
of the autumn.

It never ends for-
the tears, which lighten up
the candle in dark.

Satish Verma

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Joe Breunig, 5 december 2013

Poem: Nothing, But Olive Oil

She was in a panic; her husband was dead,
while the fear of dread had filled her head.

The local creditor wanted to enslave her sons;
she desired to keep her family from being undone.

She observed the seriousness of her situation
and sought the prophet for an inspired solution.

In their meeting, Elisha asked about her resources,
to determine a course of action, for him to endorse.

“With my spouse gone, my finances have been despoiled;
all that is left, is but a small container of oil.”

“Listen carefully my sister, and I’ll instruct you
with the needed wisdom, for your divine break-through.

Seek out your neighbors, for many, empty pots and jars;
be diligent in your search, with friends, near and far.

Once you have completed your first task of collection,
lock yourselves inside, with the jars in your possession.

Then take your original vial of olive oil and begin to pour,
filling each, empty vessel, behind the safety of your door.

For once you start, you will see the blessings of God flow,
according to your level of faith, His grace He will bestow.”

One at a time, she filled a cleaned vessel and set it aside;
when she was finished, her and her family were teary-eyed.

Upon further instruction, she sold the oil, paid her debts,
and was thankful, that their future needs were… completely met.

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
2 Kings 4:1-7

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.

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Gert Strydom, 5 december 2013

Sometimes I do ask

Sometimes I do ask for a bit of mercy from you,
to hesitate when you do not immediately understand
and to keep at mind
that wherever life goes

I do love you out of the depth of my heart.

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Gert Strydom, 4 december 2013

Like a fragile cosmos flower

Like a fragile cosmos flower
you came unexpectedly into my life,
before I knew it I did fall in love
and now you turn my days over and over.

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Gert Strydom, 3 december 2013

As a mere child

As a mere child I played the marigold game
and pulled off and did divide
the yellow leave one after the other
but now that I have got you
I do not want to determine your love like this.

Everything in life I want to share with you,
I cannot and do not want to forget you
and what does flowers know about true love?

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Satish Verma, 3 december 2013

UNBELIEVING

Today gives me an ethernal hurting
of the raging night, my moon had crashed
on the wings of flamingoes

While saying farewell to crying winds of the
creek when waves slapping sideways on crazy
shores of silence, another watchman of sweets.

Impared longing till it starts burning
under the eyes, so I am the priest and I am the god
of wasteland incisible in drifting dust

Of voicelessness on the doors of schizophrenia
in order to stay dane amist the freedom of violence
of uncaught heydays of drag queens in transgender

Era of dragons and quivering flash of tempers
between breasts of hills in a green sky it would
be sleepless mystry of gullible hounds

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 2 december 2013

When the grey days of winter

When the grey days of winter loose their colour
and the golden sun at springtime sits in the hazy blue
then I can hear weavers, sparrows and doves
that does twitter and coo
and then you are in your glory my wife

when you laugh happy like the summer-sun,
when your fingers pull out weeds
and plant seedlings of new flowers

and like a goddess from mythology
you then hold the green
of your own small world in your hands

and then I do realise
that our love also is continually sprouting
and do flower without questions,
that the days of our lives
stretch into each season
and up into distance

but that our love is perpetual
and can even flower in the worst winter.

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Latest items:

poetry

Controlling All

What A Ride

From the days of yonder

ONCE MORE

Poem: Nothing, But Olive Oil

Sometimes I do ask

Like a fragile cosmos flower

As a mere child

UNBELIEVING

When the grey days of winter

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