Alyssa Underwood Jan 2016
I would have taken the easy path
But that would leave no room for glory
I would have picked out a comfortable life
But that isn't God’s kind of story

I would have followed a prettier road
But missed the most beautiful way
I would have clung to familiar things
But lived out my days in the grey

I would have chosen what’s stable
But grown cold, apathetic and bored
I would have sought out earth’s riches
But lost all that in heaven is stored

I would have liked more successes
But not learned so quickly of grace
I would have seen myself praised more
But given up knowing God’s face

I would have tied all my loose ends
But not known it’s He Who brings peace
I would have wanted for happier times
But traded a joy that can’t cease

I would have opted for normal
But not tasted rare delicacies
I would have preferred a man’s love
But been robbed of Divine intimacy

He’s chosen for me the high road
More jagged, more narrow and steep
So now I must travel this difficult way
Ever knowing it leads to the deep

Now I must choose to cherish His path
And trust Him to walk with me there
Now I must hasten to take up my cross
The fellowship of His sufferings to share

For one day this life will be over
And all my afflictions will end
It is then I will see what all this is for
In my Bridegroom, my Savior, my Friend
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2017
What is true joy?

It's delight which flows without measure
from the assurance that through every circumstance
and detail of my life God is ever beckoning and drawing me
into deeper intimacy with Himself, ever whispering to my heart,
“Come closer still.”

Joy in the midst of devastating loss, crushing disappointment,
unbearable pain or scourging heartache is about the discovery of
treasure so precious and rare that it never could have been found
had we not been forced to walk a path of affliction in the desert.

It's in the isolation and brutality of the wild that we come to know Him
in ways that transcend the span of human imagining or desiring,
and all the songs and all the poems and all the masterpieces
taken together cannot capture an estimable description
of the pleasures that might be unearthed there.

There lies before us in our afflictions a vast and wondrous beauty
yet undisclosed behind the fog, and like a theatrical curtain
slowly pulled back to reveal a perfectly set stage
He will sublimely unveil it in His own directed time.

And we shall be elated at the view,
for it's against a backdrop of struggle and darkness
that the best and most moving of stories have always unfolded.

Maybe nothing truly beautiful can ever take form on earth
without the shroud of mystery and brokenness surrounding it—
at least not the kind of beauty that takes our breath away
and leaves us yearning to possess it.

"You have made known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy
in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."  
~ Psalm 16:11

"O God, You are my God, earnestly I seek You; my soul thirsts for You, my body longs for You, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. I have seen You in the sanctuary and beheld Your power and Your glory. Because Your love is better than life, my lips will glorify You. I will praise You as long as I live, and in Your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise You. On my bed I remember You; I think of You through the watches of the night. Because You are my help, I sing in the shadow of Your wings. My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me."  
~ Psalm 63:1-8

"It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn Your decrees. The law from Your mouth is more precious to me than thousands of pieces of silver and gold."  
~ Psalm 119:71-72

"'Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth...'"
~ Hosea 2:14-15
I tell myself I’m no longer going to care
my brain, soul and heart are checking out today,
but it doesn’t matter because no one is there,
no one came and no one will ever stay.
If someone needs to reassure you you matter,
it’s probably because they show you that you actually don’t.
There’s so many choices but they always pick the latter,
and they promise to fix things but they actually won’t.

I found something that’s true,
it’s common from coast to coast,
that the ones who say they’ll never hurt you,
are the ones who do it the most.

I promise myself that I am done
that each day marks the start of a new life,
but the battle’s fought and you’ve already won
and I’m left covered in the blood of my strife.
If someone needs to say they care about you,
it’s probably because they never actually show it.
‘Cause I’m holding a white flag that turned blue,
and it’s waving only cause they blow it.

I found something that’s true,
it’s wisdom I care not to boast,
but the ones who promise never to dessert you,
are the ones who do it the most.

I found something that’s true,
it’s common from coast to coast,
that the ones who say they’ll never hurt you,
are the ones who do it the most.

My walls were always tall
and impossible to breach
but the only wrecking ball
was a lesson I could now teach.
I left a small crack on the side
hoping someone would make it in,
and when they did, I denied
they were ever there to begin.

I want to be wrong,
I want to be reassured,
that I am actually strong
and that my skin was never disturbed.

I found something that’s true,
I’ll raise a glass to this toast.
The ones who say they’ll never break you
are the ones who do it most.

I found something that’s true,
it’s common from coast to coast,
that the ones who say they’ll never hurt you,
are the ones who do it the most.
The worst part of writing with a quill
Is when the stories don’t flow no more.
After a point, there are no more secrets to spill,
Without sounding shrill and repetitive,
And falling to the floor, tired of this shit,
Trying to make your words sound ‘lit’,
While in fact just disappointing your readers
Just that little bit.
Just a fear of mine.
Serena 3d
I sat with my eyes closed
Ears open in anticipation
The silence baiting

It sounded
It finally sounded
I slowly got up
But my heart raced, it pounded

The ringing got louder
My eardrums did spill
This must be it
This isn’t a drill

The doorway was in sight
My legs picked up speed
I was high from the endorphins
That touched the tips of me

I placed my hands on the door
And pushed it as hard as I could
And fell into darkness
I really wish he wasn’t a fuckboy
Serena 4d
A quick kiss to the back of my neck
Your lips couldn’t help themselves
And I could tell
Knowing this made my heart blossom

You whispered something to yourself and I turned
My heart wilted to the dirt
It wasn’t you
The owner of the lips was just a body
And you didn’t even exist
The sun sets on the little huts
Made of mud and roofs thatched
The African child
With smiles on his face
He hasn't a cause to worry
Running to and fro in the scorching sun
Lost in the midst of tall trees
Humming to the gentle breeze
He is a happy child

He is oblivious of the hard truth
That a sad future awaits him
Full of challenges and misery
Little does he know
Those smiles he once had
Widely drawn on his face
May dissolve into frowns of anguish

Committing neither an offence nor crime
There may come a time
The beautiful fantasies
The hopes, dreams and aspirations
Everything he once believed in
May come tumbling down

Nevertheless, he is relentless
There is a ray of hope
In this utter darkness
Full of vigour and energy
By might or magic
He will fight his way through
He is the African child.
Telling the tale of the underprivileged Africa child through poetry; from personal experience and encounters.
Can someone please stop me from pouring,
out, and out
I'm afraid I might be emptied soon from crying out,
loud, so loud

Please let me find some peace of mind,
self, myself
Let me put this thing off, put it on the furthest,
shelf, rusted shelf

I'm so tired, so worn out,
letting, always letting
My veins are bruised from all of it,
fretting, all the fretting

Aren't you fed yet?
from the blood, so much blood
It starts to become one with
the mud, grey thick mud

I'm fed up with your decency,
irony, oh the irony
Full and fat of life's endless travesty
tragedy, it's a tragedy

Let me out of lying honesty,
don't talk to me, don't talk
I'm sick and tired of this car,
I rather walk, I will walk

I'll get somewhere eventually,
probably, mh, surely
Or maybe I'll get hit by one again on my way there,
pleasant thought, purely
You're doin' a good job
Of staying in your place....
The subservient
Servile place
That they want you to stay in.
I actually thought
You had potential
I actually thought
You were smarter than myself,
Maybe, I just fell for,
Smooth mannerisms?
After all,
The test of a good woman
Is when
The goin' gets rough.
Steve Page Aug 5
It's so easy to drift into a slow 'if only' and wander again through a past possibility that didn't blossom into an anticipated actuality leading you away from activities that hold greater profitabilities while smothering you with unhelpful wistfullies and miseries that blind you from embracing future feasibilities and your Father's generosities that will exceed our feeble fantasies.
Ephesians 3:20-21
"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
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