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Do justly
To the hungry
With brazen melody
Touch the ugly

Love mercy
Firstly
Choose your phrases
Teach the thirsty

Walk humbly
With feet lovely
Down crooked boulevards
Your message comely

Your God commands
He works His will
Set the world straight
Until the streets are still

Melt down your swords
Into reaping-blades
Learn war no more
In these latter days

The mountains rise high
Nations flow this way
None shall be afraid
As they rest in the shade

Walk in the name
Of Your Sovereign Lord
Carry out His will
Like waters on the shore

Walk in the light
Of Your Reigning Lord
Wolves kiss lambs
Your hope He restores
 May 2017 littlebrush
Steve Page
And when you stand
Ready to raise your hands
In prayer to heaven
Consider your heart and ask -
Do you have any hardfeelings
Anyone who you need to be forgiving
Any ill feeling that needs divine healing?
Cos if there is
Then you know that needs dealing
Before you can get to your kneeling
And your Father can truely hear your appealing.
And don't think it's worth trying concealing
No, simply deal with it by giving some forgiving
And then you can engage with some true conversing
With your loving Father listening in heaven.
Mark 11:25 "And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”
 Nov 2016 littlebrush
Mike Hauser
Oh my, oh me
A Bumblebee
Just flew up my nose

And to think
This weird feeling
Has nowhere else to go

Can't hear a word
My eyes are blurred
And my brain it tickles

Stinging me
In my memory
Leaving me with little

From the inside
It passes by
Bumblebee on cruise

Which has my head
Thinking that
All is buzzing loose

Then with joy I hear
Flew out my ear
That was the strangest feeling

I have ever had
Inside my head
Besides my normal daily dealings
 Jun 2016 littlebrush
Mike Hauser
Only heaven knows
Where this is going to go
But have you ever stopped long enough
To take a look at your toes

The ones on the right
The ones on the left
How over time
They all look so different

While some seem smashed
Or is that smooshed
Either way that you say
Look at the way that they look

They do love to be free
Fresh air makes them wiggle
And when touched have the need
To laugh out loud giggle

One look at my toes
Shows they're bent out of shape
If they had tongues to talk
Who knows what they would say

With a tuft of hair in each center
Punk rock piggies at their best
I decide as an after thought
To paint each Mohawk red

Told you only heaven knows
Where this was going to go
When I stopped for just a minute
To gander at my toes
Sitting on my porch in the early morning
An Inca dove flew to a ledge where
A succulent had just been watered.
She sipped from the edge of the ***,
Cocking an eye at me occasionally.
After she'd had her fill, she didn't fly away,
But looked at me with curiosity.
What a cumbersome ugly creature she probably thought... large. Pale. Bound to the ground like a stone...

But why do we antromorphize the thoughts of wild things? Who knows their
Minds? Only God.

But I like to think that I had a connection with that Inca dove. She didn't fly away for a long time. But peered at me with such a lively interest. She wasn't even afraid as I got up to go back inside. Brave and beautiful are the untamed. Many would say God gave me a chance to look at her.
I'd say God gave her a chance to look at me.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/2/2016
 Jun 2016 littlebrush
Mike Hauser
Is the grass greener
On the other side of life
Or more of a dream

And do the people
On the other side of life
Dream about this side
A couple of weeks ago my aunt asked me,
what the first thing I noticed about a girl is.

''Her hands''.

The conversation quickly turned *****,
''you just want to know what they are able to do to you''.

At first,
I thought it was funny,
almost agreeing with the statement that had been made but then,
I realised that we all want what we can't have.
Looking down on my own hands for ages thinking that I wish they could just function.
I have been looking for the hands I have never had,
in the girls I have been debating whether or not they were,
girlfriend material,
judging my looks,
my hands,
my shape and my face while other girls wants what I have.

After realising just that,
I decided that from now on,
I will stop looking at hands and look into their eyes instead.

(e.k.j.)
Body positivity.
A poet upon his or her death " Does Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", for they have something to share with future generations through their poetry.
Robert Frost "When faced with two roads diverged in a yellow wood he took the one less traveled by and that made all the difference."
Was William Blake laid to rest under A Poison Tree? Or was he saying that we are like  poison to our enemies? One beauty concerning poetry is that it can be left up to the interpretation of the reader. Even if it was written to mean one thing the readers can discover several possible meanings to the poem like discovering jewels each time it is read.
Perhaps lets for fun imagine" The Raven", giving the eulogy for Edgar Allan Poe, and talking about his life and the loves that inspired his poetry especially Poe's beloved" Annabel Lee" and "Lenore. "The Raven" proceeded to close his eulogy with the words " Nevermore".
Maybe when it was time for William Shakespeare to be laid to rest while dressed up in his Sunday best. His poem " Fear No More" could have been read leaving not one dry eye as many fans cried for a great poet and playwright had died. A big comfort to his fans is that his work is forevermore immortalized in print for future generations to enjoy. As Dylan Thomas best stated " And Death Shall Have No Dominion" because the poets words still live on in print to be read and enjoyed and discovered by many generations to come. The poems that a poet writes are there legacy that they leave for future generations.
Check out the classic poems referenced above: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas and Death Shall Have no Dominion, also by Dylan Thomas. The Road not Taken by Robert Frost. A Poison Tree by William Blake. The Raven, Annabel Lee, and Lenore, by Edgar Allen Poe. Fear No More by William Shakespeare. I had been thinking about this in memoriam idea for the last 3 to 4 years I finally got it done in time for Memorial Day. I hope you enjoy it. Please be inspired to leave a lasting poetic legacy for future generations to come.
 Jun 2016 littlebrush
Lunar
You would be my sculpture.
I'd spend hours on you.
Your face had taken shape,
Your neck was molded new.
I formed your pale legs,
My clay perfect for the fit.
For days I worked on your torso,
For days I only patiently did sit.
Solidifying was real quick,
And I had to be careful.
You could break if mishandled,
I needed to be gentle.
You still had your eyes closed,
So I kissed your dry lips.
But you still couldn't hold me well,
Despite your arms around my hips.
And so I carved your hands,
And caressed them in mine,
Then finally you entwined our fingers,
At last we held back time.
To koreen and her Dearest.

An artist would make art out of the one dearest to her/him, and missing them would supply the will to finish the piece. But no matter how many sculptures, paintings and sketches I do, they can never compare to the real you. One day, I believe, you will hold my hands, and for that time to be the golden seconds of my life, I will not loosen my grip and let go.
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