My life is such that
Had I heard the voice
From a burning bush,
I am sure I would not
Have liked what it said.
I would have been ready
With lengthy arguments
Of science and history
And philosophy instead.

If some white stuff fell
From the sky above me
I would accept the reality
That it was global warming
A miraculous warning
Even the evangelicals
Would not find equivocal
As it fit both categories;
Both scientific and glory.

The parting of the sea?
Maybe a big conglomerate
One more time yet that
They made a decision
To make an incision
In the scenery and jam
Into place a lucrative dam.
Not such a big miracle to
Render atheists miserable.

I understand the loaves
And the miracle of fishes
But, I have seen some
Of McDonald’s dishes
And sacks full of food
Brewed and cooked
From nothing much
And they don't much look
Like the animaLs they are
Supposed to be from.
I’m not that dumb.
Kim Essary May 6
This family I have all began with a girl named Bella, she was more than adorable. Loyal and loving she was one of a kind. She never ran off until one day she never came home, my heart broke as I searched near and far, not only taken from me but 5 babies left behind.  I was trying to find these babies a loving home but attached from day one I kept them for my own. Oh my the destruction they caused, 3 girls and 2 boys, Heaven, Sadie, Sky, Junior and Buster along with my shitzu,  Zoey. Never a dull moment as each one special in there own way. Little did I know the place where we lived the ground they played upon made every one of them poisoned by parvo and deathly sick. My Fience and I worked round the clock administering medication and fluids to 6 very sick puppies. Our battle seemed to never end as death filled our home and we lost one. Exhausted and drained as i laid beside our remaining babies, death sunken eyes peered up at me from each and every one as if asking me "momma please save us for what have we done"  I burst into tears as I gathered them all near, laying my hands upon there tired bodies I closed my eyes and began to Pray, God please heal my babies make them better through my hands, I know you can work miracles so I'm begging of you to spare the life of my babies I pray unto you . As silence filled my home covered with doom, my body grew numb , I knew God was here. I began praying harder never lifting my hands as the heat from my hands became even hotter I couldn't remove them from their bodies. Chills ran through me like I've never felt before, releasing my hands as I looked in their eyes , the death that once consumed them appeared to go away. Within a matter of hours one by one they began to get well. I dropped to my knees and gave God his Grace for saving my babies that day. Every word I've said in this poem is 100% true, A wonderful testimony of how love , faith and God healed my furbabies that day.

This is a true story . My furrbabies are my life my family my loving and loyal companions
Rebecca Apr 7
Sunshine and relaxation. That’s what I was told I would get. I never realized that I would be coming home with a lot less. When I met you, I felt you look into my eyes and made it known you would have my heart as a home. When I kissed you, I never expected cigarettes to taste so good. You’ve got me wanting to smoke pack by pack trying to find your lips on the end of each and every filter. When you held me, I just laid my head on your shoulder and admitted defeat. You had won, swept me off my feet and stolen my heart. When we drank too much fireball and you told me you loved me, the only thing I could do was believe you. I would have never guessed that by the end of this trip, I’ll leave it all with you, 500 miles away. It’s my last day and I can’t keep from spilling my tears all over my laptop as I wonder what will happen from here. I will never forget the way your blue eyes twinkle and how I can stare in them all day. I love you. And I hope to see you soon.
No god ever spoke to me.
Not because I never tried!
There were times I cried
And begged to hear a word.
Nothing seemed to be heard.
There was no imperious voice
With avoiding not being a choice.
There was no burning bush;
Nor gentle or heavy push
One direction or the other.

It remained for me to get together
With some paid hack with a book
Who preferred not to look at me
Because he wanted to deal with
Easier sins than I could offer
Then, I was to add to his coffer
For rebuilding his den of thieves
But that couldn't relieve my worry
Or my problems. Maybe the Muslims
Could chant from their book of mysteries.

But no, I had already read their history
And large hunks of their sacred poems.
I recognize double-talk when I see them.
I got plenty of that in my upbringing.
I can still hear the songs they were singing
About eyes on sparrows and loving
But the poor are still naked and dying.
The poor are all nationalities and colors
And they lay in the gutters together
As the godly brothers pass; spit at them
And demand they get up and move away
And take their misery to another doorway.

I, the unhearing, could find no endearing
Reason to put on costumes and dance
To some four thousand year old romance
About gypsies and witches promising
To keep on doing what I was doing
And I would see the kingdom of heaven
Or maybe even six or seven, to suit belief.
Meanwhile here I am on this reef, at sea
With no deity to talk to me and explain
Why none of the miracles remain today
But have been washed away by time.
Or did they ever really exist at all?
Me? I’m still awaiting that divine call;
For my schefflera to catch on fire, or
To receive from god a Western Union wire.
Janery Alban Mar 17
There are so very many worlds going on around you at the same time. When you're stuck in yours, witnessing a sweeter world is a blessing. Sometimes being a fly on the wall between two people who stare at each other longingly or between two people in tension leaves me just as in awe as the miracle of birth. Kindness between you and I is blessed. Something ethereal.
Death is so finite.
Life is so finite.
Sometimes I get so caught up in fighting it all I become selfish.
I'm sorry.
Sometimes I'm small
I'm sorry.
I'm so very sorry when I finally become a witness. Miracles have a funny way of putting things into perspective, huh?

Let me be a witness and let me stay in awe.
Keep me soft because soft is strong.

Keep me soft.
Because: Soft. is. Strong.
Have you ever write an open letter to an illiterate god?
To an empty sky blue which keeps blue-ticking you every time you type,

Let me tell you how it started…

It started with 5 loaves and two fish that mankind worship miracles and minor-things not the Christ.
This is a poertion of my long poem called "911-"
Arlene Corwin Feb 22
I Don’t Write Nature Poems

I don’t write nature poems.
My husband is the nature guy,
While I, I sit around
Bound by philosophies and wond’rings why.
However, last night, ten or so fifteen
The crescent moon
Outside my window
Turned from white to orange.
No mirage, I, on the edge of sleep
Sat up amazed,
The deepest part of this un-phased, rather blasé Arlene
In bliss.
How does one explain it, share it, do it justice?
How does one make clear magnificence?

Orange caused a drunken binge
Whose hangover
I had to share
With you, dear reader, reader dear.
It happened just last night.  Truly.
I wish I could cry on your shoulders
But you have been gone for the past week
I wish I didn’t have to carry  these huge boulders
But you have more important things that you seek
I wish you were here
But you seem to be over there
All I can do is wish
Twice a day
11:11 am and 11:11pm
And they say wishes come true
So where’s mine?
Let me unroll rugs, prayers to furnish tonight
Promise to my Lord may accomplish tonight

Urdu sipped my blood since years back
Let me try my grief in English tonight

Stars walked around the sky over her mansion
Eagerly gathered to know her wish tonight

Rivulets flowing down your cheeks are havoc
Oh Lord!  Who will relieve her anguish tonight

Evening of June and approaching misfortune
Silently my hopes wait to vanish tonight

Who cares for Life, Leila and Love
Let them cause my soul to perish tonight

Mirza, in Husayn's abode, swears by Lord
In divine Kingdom, he feels devilish tonight
Tonight, poet is careless for his life.
mjad Jan 12
things happen
words slip
lips collide
tears drip
but sometimes
those things
are good
loving words
tender kisses
joyful tears
not bad
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