Year of Jubilee
Written by Adam M. Snow

My child, My child; lend Me your ear,
heed My word, put aside your fear,
your pride, your sword, your envious jeer
- hear My voice and revere.

See the world through grain of sand,
this world of yours is My Father's land.
Heed My word and make a stand
- rain of revival is at hand.

Your home will burn with Holy fire;
your kin will see My Father's desire.
Hundreds of voices will be lifted higher,
many will speak with tongues of fire.

The blind will gain a whole new sight,
they shall see God's Holy might.
Holy Spirit will in them shine bright,
their tongues shall too with fire ignite.

The lame will dance and dance so free,
to a Heavenly chorus of praises towards Me.
They will dance and dance so endlessly
- rejoicing, rejoicing with tears of glee.

The mute will speak with unheard voice
and sing aloud as they rejoice.
Praises will flow from their new found voice,
set ablaze as they rejoice.

The deaf will hear the angel choir,
their hearts will be set a fire.
They will hear My voice, My desire
and go forth to inspire.

My child, My child; lend Me your ear,
heed My word, put aside your fear,
your pride, your sword, your envious jeer
- hear My voice and revere.

There's more to come in the coming year,
but time is fading as I draw near.
Listen My child, so that our hearts cohere
- a great revival is drawing near.

The raging wars, the pointless bloodshed
all will cease, the lost will be led
to the altar with tears they'll shed,
- their hearts, free of dread.

The earth shall see His Majesty,
all captives will be set free.
All creation will fall to their knees,
this the year of Jubilee.

My child, My child; lend Me your ear,
heed My word, put aside your fear,
your pride, your sword, your envious jeer
- hear My voice and revere
- hear My voice, let our hearts cohere
- a great revival is drawing near.

Weeping by the Willow Tree
Written by Adam M. Snow

Who is she adorned in moonlight's veil -
This beauty with skin so fragile and pale?
I see her within a dream surreal,
Weeping by the willow tree.

Why does she weep such a woe,
Under starry midnight glow?
Upon the ground, her tears will flow;
Weeping by the willow tree.

How can I clearly see?
She weeps so tenderly...
Will I come to know; can it be,
She weeps for me by the willow tree?

What can cause her broken heart,
That led this dame to hurt?
Her hair does fairly touch the dirt;
Weeping by the willow tree.

A love that's lost should only be,
Misinterpreted reality,
For she will never be set free,
Weeping by the willow tree.

A heart's amiss if love is lost -
An empty bliss would be the cost.
A troubled dream, she would exhaust –
Weeping by the willow tree.

Every which way the wind would blow,
The rustling leaves, the willow'd throw.
Akin to willows weep, we know!
She weeps by the willow tree.

Is she an angel kneeling there?
What is her burden that she bear?
Certainly there is such grief in the air,
Away by the olden willow tree.

She veils her face with waterfall tears,
Misery held her all these years.
With tender hopes and fears,
She weeps by the willow tree.

The willow tree leaves would sway,
As she, on her knees would pray.
Every night and every day,
She weeps by the willow tree.

Alas! It is that she cries for me;
It twas I who caused her such sweet misery.
I hear her cries, her plea,
Underneath the willow tree.

I oft wonder what I did to she,
And wonder why she weeps for me.
In the night I hear the keys -
While she weeps under the willow tree.

Upon the morn, it occurred to me,
That maiden cries out of love for me.
And I simply walked past her plea,
Not knowing what causes her to weep,
Silently under the willow tree.

The succeeding night I went to see,
That beautiful girl who sits under the tree.
I saw her there, but in despair -
She hangs from two branches bare.
Swinging under the willow tree.
http://amsnow.weebly.com

The Music in the Wind
Written by Adam M. Snow

O you sweet ol sound that grasp the wind,
you hold so tight to sway again -
through the branches springtide leaves,
such a tune these wind they weaves.
O that sweet ol song I heard before;
those magic notes, amusing score.
Like a moth's once soon cocoon,
your sweet ol song shall bring a new.
The songs that birds in morning sing,
those chapel bells whom we praise to ring.
Among the wind, they play so free -
O sweet ol sound, play again for me.
Let me hear o rustling branches,
a sound of an octave cord -
that of which o nature brings me,
the songs of which the tune - delights me.
The joy your tune in which it brings,
upon the wind - upon pigeons wings.
Songs of which entwined with man,
like that of many passing cars,
or the coming train to name of some;
a flowing rhythm - their own drum.
O this day your finest song,
I can hear it all day long.
To hear thee, o city music,
a concerto to befit,
- entwined with the sound of nature
- entwined with the earth for sure.
Your tune so great it can be seen,
through the branches, leaves of green.
Such an awe we shall not waste,
the joyance of sweet nature's fate.
http://amsnow.weebly.com

This poem is still a work in progress.... I need some thoughts... Is there anything I should reword or change?

A Visitor in the Morning Fog
Written by Adam M. Snow

Oh what a stage this morning break
Waking to a smoke-like sight
So thick it covers the dawn opaque
The freshly gold now blight
My heart is weak, I feel it ache
Upon this morning sight
Unlike the sun my heart don't hide
Nor in the fog it dwell
Even though and with my pride
This cruel heart I knew so well
Left me alone to stride
In this smokey hell
(more is coming soon)

Little Child
Written by Adam M. Snow

Little child, weary wanderer,
leaving home to go forth yonder.
Sat alone beneath oak tree,
to sleep away his misery.
A mile from his cottage home,
this little child left to roam,
in the woods so dark and damp;
this little child would make his camp.
While asleep, he heard asunder;
flash of lights -- arose of thunder.
Upon his face a dreadful frown,
pouring rain now crashing down.
He watched a tragic play unfold,
that left this child in the cold.
The tent he pitched -- swept away,
by the shifting mud and clay.
Now the child dripping wet,
sat alone the night and wept.

I Wait for Thee
Written by Adam M. Snow

In stillness -- I wait for thee.
When time beat still -- I wait for thee.
When my troubles are great
and burdens my heart;
if my voice would leave me astray,
still this day -- I wait for thee.
When sickness strickens me,
bedridden and weak -- I wait for thee.
Through many quaint of restless nights -- I wait for thee.
When I'm old and wizened, and my memories flee,
still my Lord, I wait for thee.
In a crowd of many or by my lonesome self -- I wait for thee.
And in my travels through misery,
when the world has grown so dark;
in my days of ridicule, my faith on trial,
I, your bondservant will wait for thee.
And in my final hour with my final breath -- I wait for thee.
With every hour of my life, from now till then -- I wait for thee.
I wait for thee O Lord -- I wait for thee.
Even in my darkened days -- I wait for thee.
http://amsnow.weebly.com

This Lost Lamb
Written by Adam M. Snow

Oh by the morning strike of day
and by the calm obscure of night,
my heart is Yours O God - I pray;
grant this lost lamb Your holy sight.

Give this lost lamb the sight to see,
truth that lies in the love of Thee.
Show me the world in Your own eyes
and make O God, this dumb man wise.

Grant this lost lamb the words to speak,
the Word O God of Yours to man,
the Word of truth for which they seek
in ways a lamb once lost dare can.

Grant this lost lamb an ear to hear,
and hear Your voice so crystal clear.
Speak Ye - O God with words of love,
let this lamb hear Your voice above.

Grant this lost lamb the feet to lead,
so I may guide a crowd to Thee.
Help this lamb O God to succeed,
and help the ones encage be free.

Grant this lost lamb the hands to aid,
and help the fallen and afraid,
and help the lost ones to be found.
Help me guide them to solid ground.

Lead this lost lamb - O God, to Thee;
save this lamb from the sunless deep.
Open my eyes so I could see,
all of You and Your loving heap.

Let this lost lamb be born again,
to live for You - O God, Amen
http://amsnow.weebly.com

Whispers in the Wind
Written by Adam M. Snow

Entrance me with your tune,
that gentle voice of yours.
Those sway ardent winds of harmony,
an echoed symphony of your life;
each word is wrapped in rhapsody,
flowing with the wind.

Your gentle voice, a breeze;
your whisper -- so angelically,
echoes throughout the world.
I hear it among the wind.
I hear it over the thunder of my beating heart.
I hear it calling to me.

We travel separate roads of life,
I got lost a time or two -- perhaps more.
Your voice helped me along the way;
your whispers in the wind,
echoes of sweet harmony,
it guided me back to you.

I want to hear it once more,
the melody of your voice.
Let it get lost among the wind;
(that sway ardent winds of harmony)
and have it find the heart within my ear.

Let your words etch itself upon my beating heart,
let them live forever upon my heart,
its beats won't fade the memory,
of what you've left in me.
Let them breath through my lungs.
Let me inhale your love;
it's sweet nectar to my soul,
an aroma sweet.

I hear it within a dream;
it brings me peace;
that caring voice of yours.
A stage whisper in the wind;
that soothing beat -- an interval,
an echoed symphony among the wind.

Those treacherous words of love,
"I do" and "love you"
forever in my mind,
forever in my heart.
Forever lingering on -- a song;
your whisper in the wind,
an echo -- a sweet echo.

God's Heaven
Written by Adam M. Snow

A vision splendid of the Heavenly scene,
filled my mind with an image so clean:
the purity of the road from which I walk,
beyond the pearly gates so pure and white;
brighter than the sun's brightest light,
where the saints goes to flock.

Awestruck was I, with bright colors so new;
beyond everything of this earthly hue.
They glowed from the flowers in eternal bloom;
no death is seen, no weltering of a rose;
true beauty only God could compose -
with great fragrance, oh Heaven's perfume.

Oh the Heaven's perfumes, intoxicating scent;
so greatly with love, Heaven's intent.
Entwined with the sounds of the Heavenly choir;
great melodies with angelic boasts.
And out of the mouths of the highest Heavenly hosts,
singing with voices of fire.

Oh the tunes of Heavenly chorus great,
flowing with love and overflowing the gates.
The power's so great I fall to my knees,
I cannot help but join in to sing,
(O' great is Thy forever King -
great is Thy Maker of peace.)

And suddenly there, in crystal sunlight's glow,
stands all those dear ones we always loved so.
I see my father staring back at me;
my father whom I lost in mid bleak December.
Oh the treasures I will remember,
like the beauty of Heaven's seas.

As I see him, as young as I;
no tears in Heaven, still I wanted to cry.
Never thought I would see him once more.
My father, my friend is he -
a different man, cancer free;
still my father since the days of yore.

Such great gift that God has given me,
a vision of this soon coming beauty.
A land so great for a few yet so many;
the resting place at the end of my life,
to lay down in peace at the end of all my strife.
I wait for Thee, O' God, I wait for Thee.

Little Bird
Written by Adam M. Snow

Does the little bird not
know sorrow?
It drifts alone in the open air,
untouched by either
blue of the ocean
or the sky above.
Untouched by the bloodshed stains
of the earth below.
Does the little bird not
know sorrow?
Like the tears
of unborn children,
dead before birth with
their question burning
forever, "Why?"
Does the little bird not
know sorrow?
Perched on a tree,
watching man fall
before its eyes.
Is there no compassion
from that little bird
towards humanity?
Does the little bird not
feel sorrow?
Like the tears
of millions of hungry children,
cold without a home.
Their voice muted,
by the wars of greed;
their deaths in vain,
blood on our hands.
Does the little bird not
know sorrow, like we do?
Unable to fly
so freely like the bird,
lost in our own way
of life;
the endless greed,
the pointless bloodshed,
millions of lies.
Does the little bird not
know sorrow?
Always flying so freely,
freedom on its wings.
Untouched by either
blue of the ocean
or the sky above.
Untouched by the bloodshed stains
of the earth below.
Does it feel sorrow?
That little bird,
who greets the morning
with a song,
always cheerful,
always chirping.
What does the little bird feel?
Is it sorrow?

Come again, You little Nature's Kin
Written by Adam M. Snow

Sinful and violet beneath the trees,
roses blooming upon the Spring.
They know the truth that lies the bees,
oh little ones who buzz and sing.
Why are you gone? Why are you gone?
Your buzzing decrease upon my lawn.

Are you fleeing, leaving my garden?
Upon my roses still sweet nectar,
for you to take if I must pardon
the intrusion little collector.
Come again, come again
- you little Nature's kin

Take upon you my sweet nectar,
there are many and there are many.
Take all you want, little collector,
there are many beyond plenty.
Take all you want little bee, little bee
- to your hive upon my tree.

When the Tree again is blowing
Written by Adam M. Snow

When the tree again is blowing,
the sky itself is flowing.
When the leaves are rustling 'gainst the wind,
the world itself comprehends -
the beauty which spawns from nature's womb;
the haunting beauty, the rose bud blooms.
The joy and treasures, only a child knows
- the true beauty of a blood red rose.
Life's full mystery, still we don't know -
just how far this beauty will go.
Ends of the Earth perhaps and forevermore;
to the sunset, setting on the open shore.

Merry-go-round Dreams
Written by Adam M. Snow

Merry-go-round dreams;
round and round it goes.
In a cloudy scene,
in infinite spiral;
on and on,
never stopping.
Always repeating,
nightmarish dreams;
your's alone.
Trapped repeating,
day after day,
night after night;
same ol' dream,
-dreaming.
http://amsnow.weebly.com

Reflection
Written by Adam M. Snow

I am alone this night of flutter;
confusion reigns, so I utter,
"The air is that of a clouded dream;
so dark like that of an ordeal gleam."

I wonder where this fancy bestowed me;
in a room, damp it be.
My vision is blurred by this smoky scene.
I see only a table, draped of shallow green.

I pondered there for a moment, a moment it was;
but apparently a moment too long, came abuzz.
It echoes louder, louder atop of that table cloth;
calling to me my once forgotten troth.

So heedfully I approach the table with ease,
Seeing afar it covered in bluish frieze.
My vision once blurred, now felt clearer;
that vanity table shown an olden mirror.

Now from the vanity table, a mirror I now held
I glanced upon myself, now greatly compelled.
A face has shown, was I yet not I,
it cursed myself to die.

The image that was shown had shadowed a vision:
Ye or I inter sweet derision,
o'er thy pass of insanity wake
as much of pain as I could take.

The mirror’s shown cracked; I feel it no more.
My heart beats cold, my days be ****.
I'd fallen apart to lose my way;
“Am I now one in a blackened day?”

I watched my life now turned to mist;
The writer is I, who cannot exist.
I shown cracked in my own reflection
these wounds are the signs of my affliction.

I am one in this reflection shown two;
seeking to make my life anew.
I asked my reflection to be shown;
my truth, my past is left unknown.

I ask of thee, "Let it be done."
The writer is I, the lonely one
My reflection, it strains drops of blood;
engulfs it now in life's lowly flood.

My eyes are stained as I lay cold,
I am weak-bound growing old.
My voice is muted as my heart now breaks;
my body's bounded, my soul still aches.

Misery whelms my ever being,
leaving I without a sight for seeing.
Burned into my mind, a vision of pain
as the mirror, cursed me insane.

To be upon a mirror image,
upon a worldly scrimmage.
My reflection does not show
this truth I do not dare to know.

The mirror’s cracked; I feel it no more.
My heart beats cold, leaving me sore.
I've fallen apart and lost my way;
“Am I but one in a blackened day?”

I long for amity among benevolence,
a sought after among your prevalence.
I am now we and we look back;
my ember morn has now grown so black.

The mirror is shattered, my image is not;
my demons has shown its devilish plot.
I've been raised yet to have fallen-
My life, my heart song is stolen.

My reflection in vision pains,
I am bound by my worldly chains.
I am force to face myself in this state,
the mirror shows, it-is-my-fate.

My image is broken yet is whole,
I seek only for my life's role.
I'm reaching through out the dark,
my only light a petite spark.

Nevermore will my reflection show;
I'm lost with no place left to go.
The mirror's lust has failed;
is this not where I dwelled?

My tears are falling upon my reflection
this holds for me no resurrection.
This cracked mirror now shows only one;
the life in this mirror is nearly done.

My reflection, it is not new;
like the mirror it's turning blue.
I, myself gone insane,
I shall not lack in vain.

I am not myself, let I be smite;
this is the shine of evil's light.
I only love yet I still hate,
I know now it is my fate.

I feared myself, of who I am,
curse me now let thee be ******.
Bow ye not of I with shame,
only I am whom to blame.

I cannot live like the past,
nor the future of all in vast
http://amsnow.weebly.com

A Blood Moon Night
Written by Adam M. Snow

Tonight I watched in awe,
the moon once pure and white.
Obeying the nighttime law;
lighting the sky so bright.
The stars, the moon in sync,
dancing their worries away.
The end can happen in a blink;
a sudden halt would not sway.
Darker the night grew -
and darker the moon dost shine.
I stood there in awe, in view,
- a bloodish sublime.
The proud moon once danced so free,
now cowering behind a blood red veil.
I stood there in awe to see,
the world halt with a quail.
The moon eclipsed in a taint of dark red;
I stood there in awe in yonder.
"Is not the moon dead?
What of this?" I ponder.
Hours pass feeling like eternity,
watching the blood moon night pass.
Returning the world back to modernity,
knowing this isn't the last.
The moon is pure and white once more.
Don't succumb to joy just yet.
Again it'll happen, I swore -
three more nights, a blood moon to fret.

My Insanity
Written by Adam M. Snow

Falling weak, I lay my head;
resting now I feel dread.
A ghost am I,
forever nigh;
a mute yet blind;
this world, my mind
held insanity,
my humanity,
lost to eternity,
by mortality.

I have seen Maelstroms Eternal
Written by Adam M. Snow

I write with flowers of ink,
thy love poured out on page,
in a slumbering alder away in endless flight;
swaying with the stars, so white 'gainst the black night sky,
facing the horizons, on the calm black waters called -ink.
-I write for thee that thy heart be free.
I have seen maelstroms eternal,
mount in my soul but endless;
-An abyss without thee, I dare thee not.
By starlight the rushes lean over thee wide:
-The ink on the page is erased,
-The text is long forgotten.

Welcome to My House, My Mind
Written by Adam M. Snow

How is it that you've come to be within my house,
my mind; to see perhaps my wizened soul?
Make yourself at home, unwind; perhaps even might extol.
Don't you mind the many voices and laughter;
they're just the many sides of me.
Calm you down and join me hereafter,
indulge in my fruits of insanity.

I hope your stay will be delight,
an unpleasant one the most;
the hours here may cast a fright,
especially when I am the ghost.

Lay you down and rest assure; the hours, the day,
the morning-struck shall never come.
Give in your fears, it will procure;
it yearns to equal a sum.
I warn you my house, a labyrinth;
get lost would meet your end;
you can run and sprint, your attempts would only descend.

Enjoy the nightmares I have to offer,
they're quite tragic at the most.
Lay your mind within my coffer; give in to your new host.
Let it be succumbing,
an eternity here if you lose your way.
I thank you for coming;
I hope you enjoyed your unpleasant stay.

Can't You see? (Blind)
Written by Adam M. Snow

Why are you blind?
Can't you see,
the lies you live
is not of Me?
I am love.
I am truth.
I died for you.
I set you free.
You mocked My name
and cast Me out.
You blame Me,
for your downfall.
I gave you words,
a simple instruction,
'How to live
and live the right way.'
Can't you see?
The way you live,
choosing sin over Me;
it makes Me sad
to watch you fall.
I cannot help you,
until you call.
Call unto Me,
I will grab your hand,
and once again,
I'll set you free.

The Doorway (Revelation 3:20)
Written by Adam M. Snow

Here I stand,
your doorway's closed;
I cannot move beyond the door.
I'm waiting here
for your reply,
knocking on your door, is I.

Can you hear me -
knock, knock knocking,
waiting here by your door?
Will you open, let me in?
Am I not your friend?
Here I stand,
your door is closed;
I cannot enter.
Will you answer the door for me?

Can you hear me -
knock, knock knocking?
Will you kindly let me in?
Here I stand,
waiting here.
Knocking on your door,
I stand here.
Your door is closed.
Will you open, answer me?

Here I stand -
knock, knock knocking.
Can you hear me -
knock, knocking at your door?
I stand here
at your doorway;
Will you answer
- open door for me?

I am your friend.
I am waiting,
waiting at your doorway.
I am here, knocking,
knocking at your door.


"Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me." - Revelation 3:20 NKJV

Winter Moon through a Third Eye
Written by Adam M. Snow

Staring out the frosted glass,
I ponder there, alone.
The moon, at its fullest, its highest peak,
all I can think of are words.
Words flowing off that fullest moon,
being born from my ink stained pen.
I write those words upon the page;
my heart flowing with the ink.
The soon winter night inspires me.
Staring out the frosted glass:
I glimpse eternity.

The Mistress
Written by Adam M. Snow

She wears her wedding dress,
to her own funeral.
Her groom watches from afar,
holding hands with his mistress.

The Girl Who was left Asunder
Written by Adam M. Snow

The girl who was run over and left asunder,
plays the sweetest tune.
Full of errors, she solemnly blunders -
carrying that note, she gracefully attune.

Pain
Written by Adam M. Snow

I know what pain is,
the feeling of being alone.
Screaming,
knowing you cant be heard.
The desire to break free
is irrelevant.
You are lost.
A ghost,
trapped.

Ink-stained Lips
Written by Adam M. Snow

With ink-stained lips,
my words spill upon my page.
It is my blood which I shed,
my pain which I share.
My life of a dying age.

The Price of Love
Written by Adam M. Snow

My sanity of love; is not my insanity?
I plea it so.
Then so be it, I say.
That I banish my dream, for a moment to see.
To love,
that I may wake in another life with thee;
holding hands with thee.
Is not this thing called love I seek?
Is not this a dream?
Do I dare glimpse eternity with thee?
Without thee shall be an eternity in itself.
To bid thee a farewell would only be a sweet tragedy.
But it's sad to say that this sweet tragedy is true,
that this love must end so tragically.
But this love must be love within my heart;
an eternity of broken sorrow, as I remain alone.
Alone to ponder thus love now yonder,
as I fall short of thee.
And by thee such tragedy,
I curse thyself sweet insanity;
a glimpse of eternity.
A price to pay for a tragic love.
A price to pay for a sanity of love.
But be as it may, a journey cut short
when I see thee again come the break
of morn.
The price to pay for love is love
and nothing more.
The price of love is you and I,
together forever and nothing more.
I plea it so.
Then so be it, I say.
I shall love thee with a love,
more than love and nothing more.

My Reflection
Written by Adam M. Snow

See the mirror hanging there,
with obligation stare.
A glimpse an image, do I dare,
peek my reflection standing there.
The mocking image laugh and stare,
with lights surround to give a glare;
I see myself standing there,
looming deep within despair.
Do I dare? Do I dare,
glimpse the glass,
o mirror standing there?
Oculus of glass I stare,
waging war myself, standing there.

Man Today
Written by Adam M. Snow

I see man blinded;
a phobia of truth,
-now growing hate
towards brethren of man.

A Heart Unswaying
Written by Adam M. Snow

A heart unswaying on the water surface.
What burden is this; a love without a tragedy?
Such frail the human soul,
who are we to judge?
So easy are we to drown,
like a heart unswaying on the water surface,
so heavy that it sinks.

Out of the Tongues of Man
By: Adam M. Snow

How the day yawns,
from despicable lies;
out of the tongues of man.

She became My Gallows
Written by Adam M. Snow

What of this!?
Her sweet madness beautiful as snow
that by starlight, the rushes lean over her wide!
The intoxication of her insanity draws me close.
Her voice, calling out my name;
- haunting me.
The moonlight pours out upon her -
her wickedness is shown, who dreams with
- a nest of mad kisses; a thousand years sad regrets.

She is my agony -
my cage -
my demise.
My loss of sanity is due her.
She is haunting,
such madness is this?
I cared nothing for all,
she is my breath, I can't live without.
My essence,
- sighing around her where the stars are sleeping.
The scented twilight, I hung there.

She became my gallows -
my wandering noose -
my demise -
the fall of a tragic poet.
She is the bearer of my heart, locked away;
I am nothing.

I am nothing
but a man locked in chains,
who bears no voice;
a victim to her madness
- her bitter sweet madness, beautiful as snow.

She stole my heart -
my voice -
my name.
I am her insanity as she is mine.
She left me, her ghost to wander
- sighing around her where the stars are sleeping.
The scented twilight, I hung there.