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Liz Jul 2014
Ignorance yearns for a life that is less
Than discern and desire for what is God's best
In life we take one path, two, three or more
In flippant wantonness because we're so bored
A wider road will bring a host of choices
But too many options can dull the senses
So bruises and scars are tattered galore
But vanished they did when I said, "No more"..
For grace has healed and opened the eyes
And gave me a road to beginning a new life.
Liz Nov 2014
A new beginning...
It is like eyes to see,
Ears to hear,
Mouth to speak,
And lungs to breathe.
The sleeping giant is awakening...
Liz Jul 2014
How I loved you then
Strong man you were soft
Tender to the core
No bravado, no pretense
How I wanted you more
You that no man sees
Only God in Heaven
When on your knees
So tender and pure
Pulling my heartstrings
Like a fish on a lure
How I loved you then
I would go anywhere
Anywhere with you
My dear friend
Liz Jul 2014
Oh weary traveler
Soiled duster jacket and sodden shoes
You long for rest
From a journey of fools

Take heed your time is near
That will set you apart
A door and a key for you
No longer a wandering heart
Liz Jul 2014
how love can be
so tumultuous inside
it can be biting and cruel
making one a shamed fool
it rips and destroys
with a shout or subtle whisper
what love is this?
only fallen in nature

but there is a love
that is glorious indeed
it stays true and never wanders
you become his life partner
it builds and it praises
words kind and tender
what love is this?
only from your Creator
Liz Jul 2014
Beautiful and free
Innocent and pure
Gentle eyes and form
She flies alone

Traveling many miles
Through peace and war
Struck down at times
She survives them all

She is tender to the eye
Resilient inside
Still searching
Searching her heart's desire

Resting on a limb
She sees him
Could this be?
Alas, no
He sees her and turns back
Back to his memories

Heartbroken she takes flight
Beautiful and free
Innocent and pure
Gentle eyes and form
She flies alone

She knows not there is one
Strong and free
Brave and pure
He is searching
Searching for his dove
Liz Jul 2014
Show care for yourself
Your thoughts and your soul
Your neighbor as well
Avoid the black hole

You will be grateful
He as well
That you cared enough
You are not in Hell
Liz Jul 2014
Oh simple one, Simpleton
Why look back on your regrets?
Let bygones be bygones
Look to daybreak and not the sunset
Liz Jul 2014
Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Liz Jul 2014
Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)

A brackish lake is there with bitter pools
Anigh its margin, brushed by heavy trees.
A piping wind the narrow valley cools,
Fretting the willows and the cypresses.
Gray skies above, and in the gloomy space
An awful presence hath its dwelling-place.

I saw a youth pass down that vale of tears;
His head was circled with a crown of thorn,
His form was bowed as by the weight of years,
His wayworn feet by stones were cut and torn.
His eyes were such as have beheld the sword
Of terror of the angel of the Lord.

He passed, and clouds and shadows and thick haze
Fell and encompassed him. I might not see
What hand upheld him in those dismal ways,
Wherethrough he staggered with his misery.
The creeping mists that trooped and spread around,
The smitten head and writhing form enwound.

Then slow and gradual but sure they rose,
Those clinging vapors blotting out the sky.
The youth had fallen not, his viewless foes
Discomfited, had left the victory
Unto the heart that fainted not nor failed,
But from the hill-tops its salvation hailed.

I looked at him in dread lest I should see,
The anguish of the struggle in his eyes;
And lo, great peace was there! Triumphantly
The sunshine crowned him from the sacred skies.
'From strength to strength he goes,' he leaves beneath
The valley of the shadow and of death.

'Thrice blest who passing through that vale of Tears,
Makes it a well,'-and draws life-nourishment
From those death-bitter drops. No grief, no fears
Assail him further, he may scorn the event.
For naught hath power to swerve the steadfast soul
Within that valley broken and made whole.
Hebrew - Baca BACA
(bay' cuh) Place name meaning, “Balsam tree” or “weeping.” A valley in Psalms 84:6 which reflects a poetic play on words describing a person forced to go through a time of weeping who found God turned tears into a well, providing water.
Liz Jul 2014
oh where are you now?
oh my love, my true love?
you left me so suddenly
tending to your grief
now gasping for air
in your ocean of misery
i wish to throw a rope
and pull you to safety
i feel your despair
oh how it breaks me

but i'll wait this out
'til your heart is healed
perhaps in autumn or winter we will love once again
'til then, my love - 'til then..

— The End —