Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Steve Page Dec 2023
How do you smuggle Jesus?
How can we disguise Him,
camouflage and mask Him -
how do you sneak Him in?

How do you smuggle Jesus,
give Him some acceptable spin?

How do you smuggle Jesus?
How can we conceal Him,
hide and obscure Him -
how do you slip Him past?

How do you smuggle Jesus,
keep Him from being unmasked?

How do you smuggle Jesus?
How can we impart Him,
stealthily bestow Him -
on those still on their search?

How do you smuggle Jesus,
and release Him back into His church?
Listening to Andrew Fellows, author.
Heidi Franke Dec 2023
Riding the air
In dark morning
A steady current of rain
Descends
Upon everything
The fir tree
The house roof
My dogs fur
The empty Ash tree
The fallen leaves
Brown, red, yellow, orange
The bird feeder catches the water As does the bird bath
The puddles
The street
The cement
My head

My ears hear each
Multitude of patterned drops
In apparent chaos
Reminds me of the brain
The synapses in my brain
Circuitry, each drop a connection from
Dendrite to dentride
Messages of the unknown
Of falling to earth
Of vulnerable life
Unprotected.

The unhoused, in the cool soaked air of December. Will you remain blessed?
Will you spread your joy in the patter of rain to those who bare the rain in their skin, on their dampened clothes? Adding a chill.
Will today you find some without a home
Bringing tarps, blankets, source of heat, to those who listen
To the same rain
While they shiver
And you stay in your glow with your tidy wood burning fireplace. Stay comfortable? Risk giving for giving sake. What floods of love can you share in December rather than giving to
Your precious family, the left overs, the excesses
And give to charity that make each day another day for breath in rain from the heavens. I choose the rain. I could be the one in
The open now, soaking as I pen these words.

Hoping words of love, neutrality, non-judgement and altruism be the "church" we reside in. Drop by drop.
Over a hundred different sounds of rain brought to earth by gravity, in my receiving ears, and the tiny sparkles of light reflected upon the  light from the street lamp shining upon concrete saturated by this extended morning rain.
Sunday. Sitting under my porch with coffee in hand, dog at my side. Dry from this music of rain. Thinking of the homeless. Now mustering the strength and courage to buy Starbucks growlers full of coffee for about thirty and driving around town once again finding cold people shivering. Time to order that coffee and give warm to some as best I can in my limited way. Looking for costs of pull over rain coats. My gifts to my children this year is to give what I would give them to others less fortunate. Be neutral in your thinking. Be rid of judgements of self and others. More love, less hate.
Zywa Oct 2023
Everything that we

humans can touch is sacred --


Sacred Emptiness.
"Desolation Angels" (1965, Jack Kerouac), chapter 1-2-89: the essence of what you can touch remains a mystery

Collection "MistI"
I need a gift for Grandad
Something that he'd like
Maybe just a book to read
He's too old to get a bike

A mystery? a bio?
A book of poetry?
It don't matter, he won't read it
But maybe, we'll just see

One with a nice title
One that makes you dig on in
Under fifty pages
A book that looks quite thin

A waste of money maybe?
But, it's for grandad not for me
A fine thing to buy others
A book of poetry
Yes, I’m designing gift cards today; I'm crafting another creative hope, Despite all the gift cards that you tore apart. I’m not creating them to feed your greed anymore; I’m mastering them for this beautiful world, outside of my grief.
AE Jul 2023
I've somehow stretched every limb
into a series of exhausted yawns
Now the rhythm of this day
Is with you
But it seems,
I am not the only one
With words breezy enough
To make you laugh
Because as I round the corner
I can hear the air rippling around you
And everything becoming lighter and lighter
Until you, a sun in everyone's galaxy
Illuminates the disillusioned
delusional rhythm makers
All here to gift you their love
Kata Jul 2023
Curse the poets blood.
No matter how much I cut myself, I cannot bleed it away.
Curse the poets skin.
I cannot tear it off, it holds everything in.
Curse the poets feet.
The more I try to run away, the more they dig in, rooted to the words that ground my life.
Curse the poets tears.
They provide no comfort. They blur my vision, wet my pages and smudge my ink.
Curse the poets mind.
At times I dream of throwing it all away. But I cannot differentiate between reality and figments of creativity.
Psych-o-rangE Jun 2023
Accepting the gift was always easy

Committing to it was always hard

No compass, no road, no map could lead

No language, no gesture, no one to teach

No god, no idea, no love, no hate, no reaction, no purpose, no reason, no thought, no spasm,
no fiber,
.
no spark.

There, I broke it.
Because you are a dear, dear friend,
as dear as you can be;
A person sweet, a joyous treat
to work here next to me.

Of greatest wealth your superb health,
until a cold you catch;
The bills, the phone, you can't stay home,
and so a plan you hatch.

To work I'll go, I must not show,
that really I feel lousy;
No pills I'll take for goodness sake,
that could cause me to be drowsy.

Your nose will run, you'll say "Oh ***,
a tissue may I borrow?
Please do not lock your tissue box,
I'll pay you back tomorrow!"

So,
Because you are a dear, dear friend,
and I would not want to miss you;
This HOLIDAY SEASON my special gift,
YOUR VERY OWN BOX OF TISSUE!
This Limerick was written 11-30-1995 by Bradley Ray Wardle, for my mother Margene Wardle as an attachment for her Christmas gifts of Kleenex boxes she was giving out at her
place of employment Mountain America Credit Union.
She said that people were always using her tissues and she was always low so she wanted to make a point and give each person their own box with this poem attached.
The best gift I have ever received from you is your embrace. You are soft like a teddy bear. When we were embracing each other, I didn't want to let you go.
Next page