Lord, I see you on the cross each day,
Through the things I do and say.
You feel the bite of a soldiers scourge,
When a brother's fall my actions urge.

A crown of thorns Your brow does pierce,
While I sin in anger, proud and fierce.
Your wounds a purple robe does burn,
As mockingly, Your love I spurn.

With hands and feet by nails ****** through,
You die the awful death I'mdue.
And as Your side the sword does cleave,
Your precious blood flows forth, for me.

Forgive me, Lord, my heart renew;
I confess, right now, my sin to You.
Your strength I need, for I'm too weak,
To live the words which now I speak;
Be glorified through me this day,
In everything I do and say.

©1980 Michael S. Davis

This gift is given to comfort and guide you,
To help you in trials your spirit renew.
These words of Life are given to share,
To gelp you show others their sin Christ will bear.
This precious Book, sent from above,
Is the Sword of th Spirit, the Weapon of Love.

©1979 Michael S. Davis

Waiting for the nurturing warmth upon its face,
Hoping for a reason to unfurl her velvet lace;
Wrapped snugly in its bud are treasures soft and sweet,
And only in release can her beauty be complete.

The passion of a rose is wrapped up nice and tight,
And its potential waits there, beyond the strongest might.
It opens to the season's mysterious caress,
And lifts its face to heaven for God to touch and bless.

He touches those soft petals with the blush of love
And releases from its heart a fragrance born above.
Just below the petals is a sacrificial thorn,
And in those lush green leaves, hope for life reborn.

Its passion is released, and seems so quickly gone,
But the love for which it sacrificed goes on and on and on.
With its fragrance all used up, its velvet tarnished, too,
Then its crystal vase is empty - its passion is in you.

©2001 Michael S. Davis

I’m looking in your window and see you looking back,
Reflecting all the feelings that we share.
I see the joy and trust
That comes from understanding,
And I see the love that flows from between us there..
The image that I see, is really crystal clear,
For the streaks that once obscured our point of view
Have been polished all away
By the efforts of two souls to see each truth.
Yes, I’m looking in your window,
And I’ll keep looking in your window
For the rest of both our long and loving lives;
Because, I am looking in the window of your eyes.

©2013 Michael S. Davis

I hold you in my arms and you tilt your head back,
as I kiss the ivory softness of your neck.
I sense the awesome power I have in your love for me,
and in my love for you
I’m powerless to do anything but please.
You stand close behind me and touch me with your hand,
putting your cheek softly next to mine.
With your arm across my chest,
I feel the boundless power you have in my love for you.
And because of your love for me,
I know you are powerless to bring me any harm.
Then we look into each other’s eyes
as you sit upon my lap,
and we are overcome
in the powerless power of our love.

©2002 Michael S. Davis

I love you.
I love you, by knowing you.
I know you, by hearing you.
I hear you, by holding you.
I hold you, by freeing you.
I free you, by seeing you.
I see you, by touching you.
I touch you, by pleasing you.
I please you, by feeling you.
I feel you, by filling you.
I fill you, by loving you.
I love you!

© 2004 Michael S. Davis

I open up my heart to you
In trust and adoration;
And bare my soul before your gaze,
Without a reservation.
I see you do the same with me
And cherish your dear trust;
That precious gift is everything,
And give my all, I must.
As I hold you in my arms,
And feel your heart with mine;
I know when yielding to your love,
Everything is fine.
I see you yielding all to me,
As I look into your eyes;
And pray that faith will always grow
And never, ever die.

©20001 Michael S. Davis

I found myself;
   My love in your embrace,
      My heart in your love,
         My hope in your dreams,
           My compassion in your care,
              My partner in your work,
                My strength in your eyes,
                   My ambition in your respect,
                      My companion in your touch,
                         My home in your kiss,
                            My body in your desire,
                               My emotions in your heart,
                                  My rest in your presence,
                                     My contentment in your joy,
When I found you!

©2012 Michael S. Davis

Just to hold and feel you close to me,
as you sigh and feel me next to you;
and perhaps, to ease the loneliness
of the moments when you feel so terribly.
It’s so hard to see you in distress
and not be able to take your pain away
as you would mine, if it were me,
that needed upon your breast to rest.
Oh, to protect you from all harms
would be my vow if it were in my power
to make everything all right,
by cradling you forever close to me, in my arms.

©1999 Michael S. Davis

I delight in finding ways
that make your eyes light up.
It may be with flowers
or just washing out a cup,
hiding piles of candy
in a place you’d not expect,
trusting in your wisdom
giving you deserved respect,
discovering a delightful way
to ease your headache pain,
kissing your luscious tummy
whether you lose or gain,
getting you a special treat
with a candle aglow on top,
writing one more poem for you
so you’ll know they’ll never stop.
Yes, I delight in finding ways
to love you my sweet treasure,
and hope I have a long, long life
to bring unexpected pleasure.

©2005 Michael S. Davis

There’s a part of me I never knew,
Then I met you.

You’re the part of me I always missed,
Until we kissed.

You’re the part of me that brought me charm,
The moment I held you in my arms.

You’re the part of me that should only be,
Forever and always, part of me.

My choicest prayer is like that, too,
To  always and ever, be part of you.

©1998 Michael S. Davis

Grandma read her Bible every day. She cherished those words of Psalm Twenty-three. With delight, I find that she provided a way for us to physically cling to those words in the days and weeks and months and years to come.
Grandma loved flowers, she loved her church, she loved her dogs, she loved her family and she loved to sew. For each of her children and their children, and their children, and other family and friends she made dolls, potholders, and… quilts. Each one pieced together by her hand. She worked on her last quilt at age 96.
Into each of those quilts we find the words of that psalm symbolically emblazoned. Those words were part of all she did, as God so lovingly knit them into her heart over the years; with every fresh sunrise and stunning sunset, with each beaming smile and falling tear, every sparkling joy and shadowing sorrow, each blossoming flower and obstinate ****, every delightful birth and parting death, and each victory and defeat.

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want”
So she takes some cloth - scraps from favorite dresses of sunshine yellow, powder blue and rose pink, and with experienced hands stitches patches of provision and contentment into the heart of that quilt that is ours.    

“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures...”
In go some bits of green with a little floral print and we have something to wrap up in for moments of rest in the midst of our tumultuous lives.

“He leadeth me beside still waters...”
She picks up some clear bright blue strips and with them provides some satisfaction amidst all of our frustrations.

“He restoreth my soul...”
She understands that so, she makes sure the quilt is just the right size and lets us know that we are worth the effort and time and love that God focused on her throughout the years.  

She stitches and sews the words...
“He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for His name sake...”
As she joins each piece to another and then to another until they make a square, and one square to another until she has a block, and one block to another until the quilt needs a border; and with that border, she frames for us a picture of what happens when there is a plan. She wants us to know that God has a plan for each of us, that there is a right way.

With the words...
“Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me...”
She adds piece upon piece until that quilt is part of who she is, and then she gives it to us, each one, and we have a part of her that tells us who we are. That she is with us, as God is with her. No matter where we go or how far we range, how high we soar or how low we fall, her quilt reminds us that she is part of who we are. She wants us to know that she found her security in her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  Grandma wants each of us to be that secure.

“Your rod and your staff, they comfort me...”
It is amazing how soft and full and pleasant Grandma’s quilts are to the touch. They are quilts of substance.  All those many different pieces of cloth of diverse sources and materials come together to make a quilt that brings us comfort while laying across our lap, or when we curl up in it when a chill is in the air.  Her quilt comforts us because it gives us a boundary that is safe. We are wrapped up safe and warm in here, and the cold world is out there. In the same way Grandma found that God gives that same sense of comfort - boundaries that we are safe within. Comfort comes for each of us when we wrap ourselves up within the boundaries that God has prepared for us.

“You prepareth a table before me in the presence of my enemies,
you anoint my head with oil, my cup runneth over,
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life...”
Grandma learned long before she began her hundredth year that, as bad as things often got and as bleak as the future often seemed; in proper perspective, God had abundantly and mercifully blessed her. In all those years that she lived alone and independently, she found that God was ever present with her. He was her constant companion. Her quilt provides us now with that sense of her abiding love and presence in our lives, and points to God’s constant presence in hers.  When we wrap ourselves up in our quilts made by Grandma’s own two hands, we can put things into perspective; realizing anew that we, indeed, have been blessed. If nothing else, we can know that we have been touched in such a special way as to have someone who loves us make us each our own personal quilt.

“And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Alleluia! To know that Grandma today is safe and secure in the arms of God is a comfort that we cherish. That body, worn down by a century of living here on earth, God will make fit for eternity.
How does that relate to her quilts? It’s all about belonging. She has an eternal home. She belongs there, now. Having been given a quilt by someone who made it especially for you, you can know a little about the sense of belonging that she is experiencing with the saints today. It says that you are part of the person who made it and that they are part of you. You belong.
     There are many, many people in this world who do not know and will never know what it means to belong. Your mama, grandmother, great grandmother has given you that gift; the gift of belonging. She also wants you to know that only God, through Jesus Christ, can give you that gift for eternity.
     More than anything else today Grandma’s prayer for you is that you will find the quilt of God’s love that is found in Jesus Christ. Her hope for you, in the days, weeks, months and years to come, is that you will find contentment, rest, satisfaction, renewal, security, perspective, comfort - and belonging; as you curl up with the quilt she made, just for you.

©2001 Michael S. Davis, An Eulogy by her Grandson
In Memory of Grandma,
Mrs. Beulah Bachman Bradley
December 29, 1901 - August 2, 2001

I used to stand in awe and watch Grandma making biscuits.
She’d take her wooden bowl, then dip the floor and sift it.
As snowy flour would drift to form a mound of just so much;
She’d form a crater lake of buttermilk and shortening with her loving touch.

She would smile and watch our faces as she squeezed the flour to goop
And transform the mess she made into dough that she would scoop.
A pinch she’d take and make a ball to flatten in her palm.
Then with her thumb she’d press it down, so gently and so calm.

With care she next would take the dough and place it on a pan;
A thumb print etched in dough as she continued with her plan,
To place the pats side by side until the pan was filled
By perfect rows all laid out with hands so quick and skilled.

That cozy pan she placed into an oven warmed just right
And closed the door to seal them in and cook them out of sight.
In timely care she’d pull them free, delicious golden browns
Setting fresh hot biscuits on the table, to banish morning frowns.

Now I stand in awe and think of all the biscuits she has made,
Of all the time her thumb has pressed, as her heart has prayed.
Life finds us now, her children, in life’s wooden bowls
And we feel her loving touch as she leaves her thumbprint on our souls.

For Grandma Mary Grace Kindley Davis
On the occasion of her 105th birthday, February 9, 2007
Presented to her at her Birthday Party the next day.
©2007 Michael S. Davis

Together, You and I,
Together, though apart
Two voices, hear them sigh,
As we long with all our hearts.
Two hearts with tempos of their own,
Beat as one, where love has grown,
Two hearts now joined as one.
Makes one heart, where love has won,
One heart, though made of two,
Pounds between me and you.
This love that’s just begun,
Has grown and we are one.
            
© 1980 Michael S. Davis

Playing Mahjong with Our Hearts

North, South, East, and West,
One after one, we find a match.
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter,
Each tile fits that we uncover.
One, two, three four.
With our hearts we add the score.
As we match bouquets of flowers,
Love sweeps us upward in its powers.
Five, six, seven, eight,
It’s amazing how each pair mates.
Then all that left’s that set of nine,
We find we’ve won in record time.

©2001 Michael S. Davis

At the table a chair sits empty
And there’s a big empty seat on the boat.
We see a pew that’s empty each Sunday,
An empty hook where he kept his coat.

At the store his chair stands empty.
An empty handshake offers no greeting.
Empty hugs from a loving grandpa,
Just a recliner where he sat reading.

An empty bed looms at evening,
His silence amplifying the stillness.
There’s a void in the places we knew him,
An emptiness – full of his presence.

A presence of love for his family,
A love that cherished his friends.
In that presence we still hear his wisdom,
And feel the kind touch of his hands.

As in life his presence still beckons
And calls us to live full and free;
Redeemed by the love of the Savior,
The people God called us to be.

In Loving Memory of Byrnes L. Poston
©1974 Michael S. Davis

Not the oldest or the youngest,
not the first or the last,
Just like icing on an Oreo™
or a sailboat's tallest mast;
It's where two close friends will put you
as you all go into town,
Or where you'll put yourself
when those two begin to frown;
It's where bees sip sweet nectar
from a yellow daffodil,
Like a bull's-eye on a target
or an axle on a wheel;
It's the safest place to be
in fiercest hurricane
And where the grass grows greener
on the quiet country lane;
It's where Jesus hung between two thieves
to die for you and me,
So, make a difference in the middle,
it's the place you're meant to be!

©1994 Michael S. Davis

In the early morning stillness, I sit upon the shore.
As I gaze across the waters, I long to see much more.
The other side, a passing boat, a storm that’s on the way;
Oh, to see through the haze that shrouds this newborn day.

The Lake of Life is much the same; a haze makes short the view.
But, as the Day of Life goes on, the Son of God breaks through.
He lights up all the world around and scatters all the haze.
Three things He gives to light my way, as I go through this day.

The first is Faith, yes faith in Christ, to keep me in life’s storms;
To guide me every step I take, until He leads me Home.
And next there’s Hope to pierce the haze, to see the other side;
And Hope that after all is done that with Him I’ll abide.

And last comes Love, blessed Charity, the Greatest of the three;
For God is love and love He did, when Christ died on the tree
With love He died to break sin’s bonds and make our weakness strong,
So, take by Faith, with Hope, His gift of Love,
And greet life’s haze with song!

©1974 Michael S. Davis

I will not take from you.
I will receive what you freely give,
Your time, with attentiveness;
Your opinion, with deliberation;
Your wisdom, with appreciation;
Your care, with contentment;
Your trust, with meekness;
Your happiness, with joy;
Your sorrow, with comfort;
Your compassion, with relief;
Your humanness, with understanding;
Your adoration, with commitment;
Your passion, with fidelity;
Your heart, with sacrifice;
Your soul, with reverence;
Your love, with devotion.

©1998 Michael S. Davis

Enfolded by your love and care,
I can only sigh .
Oh, to express what my heart screams,
but my voice cannot utter.
Words are useless to declare the love
that your love unleashes within me.
With my life and breath
I care.
I can do no less.
I pray it is enough
to feebly, fumble with the words
and just adore you.

©2000 Michael S. Davis

To hold a rose,
to gaze upon its beauty,
brings such sweet contentment
and soothes my anxious soul.

To touch those luscious petals
to my fevered lips
by their very softness
warms my heart grown cold.

To explore the sweet perfume
that rises from its heart
unleashes precious memories
that in absence was forgot.

To hold a rose,
to cherish the sweet moment
that reverberates with love,
from when our two hearts met.

©2000 Michael S. Davis

As the days unfold
and reveal the things I know not yet about you,
I find I love you more and more, as you make each day feel new.

As the days unfold
I’m still amazed at how beautifully our love grows,
and can only compare our journey to the blossoming of a rose.

©1998 Michael S. Davis

As in the sweetest verse,
Where every word is chosen and the meter is rehearsed,
And a  perfect balance found, that expresses things profound;
So, love has chosen us and our hearts now beat in rhyme
As a match formed up in heaven, now and for all time.
We find that every nuance of the time we spend together
Shows that we belong, like two birds of the same feather,
Like the right goes with the left or the mate for that old sock,
Like a nut goes with a bolt or the way tick goes with tock
Like two peas fit in a pod, or a hand fits in a glove.
The beauty of that balance, that’s the poetry of our love.

©1998 Michael S. Davis

You notice all the little things about  me.
All  the  stuff  that  others miss,  you see.
So,  with a smile  or just a look,  I know you read  me  like  a book,
and  then you care and seize the moment: Just like an angel, heaven sent.
I’ve never  cared  for anyone,  like  I care for you.
Your caring touch renews my life,  like  the  morning dew.
I want to always care  for  you, like you care for me;
and notice all the little things
the heart alone can see.

©1999 Michael S. Davis

Love
An emotion, yes - but more –
A commitment, made with the heart.
A heart shaped by love, tested in faith, yet scarred by sin.

So, it’s a love given, not worthy of love.
A love note scrawled on a scrap of paper with a crayon the wrong shade of red.
A note that says simply

Here is my heart – such as it is. It’s all I have and I am
ashamed to offer it to you. It’s tattered and marked
with crayon outside the lines in the wrong shade of
red, from the stain of my wounds and the wounds that
I’ve caused others, especially you.

But it’s mine and it’s all I have. Please take it,
hold it, keep it. I don’t deserve it, but….Love me.

And you do. I don’t know why.
In so many significant ways you show me your love.

With my broken heart and in my feeble way I treasure you and I love you.

In the dictionary of my heart is a picture of you holding my love note…
Scrawled on a scrap of paper with a crayon the wrong shade of red;
Next to the word "Love"

My tribute is you.

©2012 Michael S Davis