You left me for better pastures,
You did't realize I too was fertile,
You just did not know how to cultivate me.
You are just a pastoralist looking for greener places.
In the poem pastoralist refers to as Romeo
let me love you
she had to be
she lets me sink her deep
her titanics are my remains
i love her
we love her
our insanity clings
she loved me
The Lord is good talks to me in midday and afternoon
The Lord is grand reconciles my soul has me in favor
The Lord shines the light where darkness conveys to
Majestic is the Lord's faith keeps my heart at check
I sing to the Lord worship him morning and noon
I trust the Lord fully, He keeps me alert too
Has given me words of power lets rejoice in his name
The cup of wisdom the crown of eternal life
Entrusted in my hands spiritually given sight
The words are the rhythm the poet God's hand
he has given me wisdom and given me the sword
Shall we worship his Kingdom, his name his Holy
Word ...forever more ....forever more. Amen
©Franko the Christian Poet
A calm scenery.
The sheep were in the pen, sheltered for the night
we then sat around the log fire to chat till we fall asleep,
under the open sky ,in a clearing on a wintry night.
Contrary to what I gathered, he was full of life,
there weren't any lines of worry, nor his face woebegone.
The heardsman looked cheery, humming tunes he loved aloud
which the pesky mountain wind, snatched and spread too soon.
I quiz him about his treks to find pastures for the herd,
"Isn't it a task tiring , in the rough mountain terrain?"
"It's not me who leads the hungry herd to the pastures" he says
"As it is made the world to believe by those never had seen a pasture
The sheep know where the grass in green, and find the shortest path,
as pleasing them is my only wish , I dutifully follow their lead."
Who leads and who is being led-a question to ponder
— The End —