Father thank you for this day
that comes softly and quietly
I stretch and yawn in my way
enjoying my coffee silently.
Watching Venus light the morn
before Old Sol takes reign
as the rays on the hills adorn
just as you first ordained.
I take up your book and read
the gospel is full of good news
your words are  mighty indeed
in me - the Spirit renews.
The world continues to falter
confusion and chaos and hate
people have left from your altar
abandoned themselves to fate.
I still pray and repent of my sin
I still ask for forgiveness from you
you've erased where once I had been
forgotten the man I once knew.

Hello Poetry, how things go for you today?
ready for thoughts that come your way?
expressions of pain and love and strife
that hurt and heal and cut like a knife.

Ready for confessions that say enough?
for the things of life that do get tough?
for the constant battle of passing days?
for those that leave and for those who stay?

The world's a stage as Shakespeare said
a famous line from one that's dead
the greatest writer you never did see
he was good for some, but not for me.

My best loved poet wrote of the north
into the snows,  he ventured forth
under the aurora  borealis he strode
in search of a good poem...not gold.

To each, his own, the saying goes
when a poem comes, it often flows
making the writer feel real good
but isn't that how, poetry should?

Let us endure, until the final end
facing every trial and tribulation
that comes around the bend
give Him praise and adulation.

Let's preserve and stay steadfast
in the essence of His being
holding to the truth that lasts
to the prophecies we're seeing.

To he that overcomes with grace
in the midst of chaos churning
we must keep a measured pace
for Him to whom we're yearning.

In our faith, we have His blessing
that His word is strong and true
with no doubt, with no guessing
He will stand and see us through.

Though hampered in those final days
we will not deny His name
we'll follow still His righteous ways
and His promises we'll claim.

Guess what. I can run the dishwasher,
fix my own meals and never hunger;
but there's things I cannot do,
except when I was younger.
But I can vacuum floors and such,
wash my clothes and run the dryer;
I have trouble reaching stuff,
sometimes I use a wire.
I pay the bills quite promptly,
pay the credit cards real fast;
stretch the meat and peanut butter,
so that way, I hope, they'll last.
I take care of what I need to,
I don't bother with the rest;
I take my share of naps
sometimes those are best.
And if, by God, I need to,
I'll work my fingers to the bone
only one thing I can't handle
and that's to be...alone.

Heaven is my throne and
the earth, my footstool
He shouted from the
thunderous skies
where is the house that
you can build for me?
bolts of lightning were
the only replies.

Tell me quickly if
you you've a tongue
answer me now,  if you can
I'll ask but once -
this one time only
where were you
when I created man?

I am a God above all gods
asking only for your love
for your support unto my laws
that come down from up above.

I will forgive if you repent
if you're baptized, and don't fear it
if you're agreed - to receive
the gift of the Holy Spirit.

I will bless all those that bless you
those that curse you I will curse
if you're obedient to my ways
and fear me not, for the worse.

Where breezes are a-blowing,
'tis there,  that I'll be going,
high in the pines, still green,
viewing places seldom seen;
In the fresh and fragrant air,
hiking sure, without much care,
I revel in the silence,  grand,
with only God to take my hand.
The wind caresses every tree,
blows clouds away so I can see,
the brilliance of the sun so bright,
it magnifies my squinted sight.
The leaves are rustled, with no sound,
here,  the soul at rest is found,
the troubled world lies far below,
and peace just like a river,  flows.
Here,  I find the breezes blowing,
here,  I find contentment, knowing,
that nature soothes the savage breast,
and sometimes... solitude is best.

Show me a place where the breezes are a-blowing
where pines shine green, that's where I'll be going
where weather's kinda fickle, and comes by chance
that's where I'm headed,  like a dancer to a dance.

Like a rooster to a hen-house, like a bee to the honey
it's freedom of the soul, and you don't need money
air where there's no stink, skies that glow so clear
where you lose your blues, with nature so **** near.

Where the sun is bathed in shadow, to ward off any heat
all you hear are footsteps; it's the sound of your own feet
the view from ancient hilltops is super-sweet and grand
and you marvel of creation, made by God's own hand.

There's the quiet all around you, still, the silence speaks
your reward, greatest grandeur, that weary hikers seek
that brings joy to your heart, sparing you from older pain
now, you know you've shed the hurt and it is on the wane.

Yes, there's a place I know quite well, where wind is blowing
and you've probably guessed by now, that's where I'll be going
with a knapsack on my back, and some cool water on my side
I'll see you - sooner or later- for now's the time I hide.