#disciple
A prophet once proffered a parable,
A wheatable teaching and tarable,
Concerning the needs
Of a sowers sown seeds
That require a soil that's arable.
Jul 8, 2023
Jul 8, 2023 at 2:23 PM UTC
We're all disciples here
We're all disciple makers
We're all apprentices
We're all apprentice takers
Whether you know it or not
There're those who look to you
Give them something worth seeing
Something honest and true
All of us carry our scars
Some costly, all hard earned
Don't waste the sweat and tears
Share the lessons you've learned.
We've all got younger brothers
We've all got younger sisters
Take some time to walk with them
Shake off the doubt that hinders
We're all disciples here
We're all disciple makers
We're all apprentices
We're all apprentice takers
May 29, 2022
May 29, 2022 at 2:30 AM UTC
A young disciple of discipline is just,
trying to dissipate negative traits.
Hesitations of change are often in frame
but most balloons don't fly straight.
Instead there's the choice of multiple fates,
played upon through invisible games.
Who is listening, we're nowhere near finished yet, when the drifter remains in stages to claim.
Draw upon those who have taught you before, are these new lessons or echoes restored in repetition.
Persistent tricks formed from stubborn habits, hidden in-kind to the back of our brains, where a complete disregard is often retained.
Try observing yourself through the eyes of others, are you sure we're the same when shuffling states.
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 11:09 AM UTC
Christ’s chains pay homage to his hollow hardship.
Breathing brimstone and sulfur unto their laps.
A gnarled knuckle ending in a curved claw strips
skin from bone ‘til their souls seize, and they collapse.
Come the eve they howl their harebrained hearsay.
Licked by forgotten bone and beasts’ bloodstained whips.
As Joan stares down Judas, before her horns flay
Him down to splintered, shadowy mangled wisps.
Muscles contort, mutilated in a mound
their guts greasing the hall’s cracked nooks and crannies.
When out from the back came the man who was crowned
Lord of the Flies, and beneath his gaze life flees.
With barren fingernails he scraped the stone wall
cold unblinking eyes searching for his next prey,
until they rested on the disciple, Paul.
A sad huddled mass that fervently prays.
He spat a cruel cackle and readied his blade,
As Paul feebly raises his fists, burdened by chains
and whispered, “In lord’s name may I please be saved.”
Yet alas, in a mere moment he was slain .
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
Falling leaves as for I wish another day to live
From all the battles that I've fought with; will you consider me brave?
For what it is seen; this is not my home
Who were loved by many; trashed by some
As for I was once a sinner here on earth
Now a lost soul who is seeking for the truth
I say to you; thank you for the wisdom
From a disciple who aims to enter the divine Kingdom
Despite of this; I will arise
As an angel in disguise
Engulfed by the love
From the heaven above
As you bend your head
I am lying in cold and dead
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
Reach to the back of the old,
Reach behind the boxes entrenched with dust,
Reach beyond the shelves of tarnished trophies,
Reach beneath the tarpaulin brittle with age.
Reach and ignore the stains of the years
Stretch, ***** seek
And your fingers will brush
Against unfamiliar, new-to-you gems.
Reach and from unexplored corners
Reveal new treasures from the storeroom;
Treasures to enlighten
Treasures to surprise
Treasures to delight
The disciples of the kingdom.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
The Disciples Of Light is a brotherhood to bring Souls to Christ
Our mission is to bring peace and faith to the people of the world
We have a God that is caring, knowing, loving and powerful
The Lord is Immortal he controls the Universe
His power knows no beginning or end for he is the Alpha and Omega
God loves the world and his creation which is mankind
He created your soul which is the essence of your very existence
However, your soul is Eternal and its focused on the spiritual journey
We all have different paths we must follow in Life
Nevertheless, is important to have a relationship with God
When you are spiritually broken he will come to restore you
God works in mysterious ways and he knows what's best for you
Just let him lead you to where he wants to take you
Trust one thing ... It's better to follow the Lord closely
Hence if you follow your own path alone without him your life
All your efforts all your prayers all your wisdom
Will be just empty attempts to reach Holiness
Due to the fact that you must know what is Holy
You can never attain such a thing without the Lord
But becoming a disciple of Christ is the first step
Give your daily prayers to the Lord he will hear
Because rejecting the Lord is the fastest way to go to hell in here...
©Franko the Christian Poet
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC
The essence of the pure spirit
The path to the Holy of Holies
Inbuted with the Holy Spirit
My Soul roams in a world of darkness
Dear God allow your light to shine thru me
Let your prophecy land upon my shoulders
Allow your parables flow thru my mouth
Heal my soul from my worldly afflictions
Do not delay Lord for I am weak
Silence consumes me
When I was naked, you clothed me
When I was hungry, you feed me
When I was lonely, you accompanied me
Lord, your hands created me in my mother's womb
I thank you for my 26 years of living
You are the living God I praise thee
For your Kingdom be sustained forever
You are King of Kings Lord of Lords
May your Holy Grace fall upon us
Please forgive us for our evil transgressions
Deliver us from Evil I pray Lord...Amen!
©Franko the Christian Poet
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 2:19 AM UTC
I am here to spread the gospel.
Yes I do declare I am a diligent disciple.
I have come to gaggle the good news,
to proselytize the perpetuity of heavenly wisdom.
I have come here to speak on behalf of poets everywhere:
young and old, alive and dead,
of all nationalities, ethnicities, genders, ****** orientations,
of every human being loitering upon this lush and teeming rock--
I have come to spread your word!
We, the poets,
beg you to hear our words
and put them in your mouth.
Store them in a cheek;
chew thoughtfully, and don't floss,
so we may linger between your teeth--
ready to eject with your spit we shall speak for you
and you shall speak for us.
We lie dead in the dirt until you breath life into us.
We sit poised on your tongue waiting for you to lash
into the air piercing thought bubbles with your voice.
We are instruments lying collecting dust in their cases,
ready to be grasped within calloused hands
and clasped between ruddy lips.
I have come here to tell you how to become a disciple as I:
Lovers, bring us to share!
Speak to your hearts from within worn and jaundiced pages;
we are merely ink stains until you make sense of it all.
Until you speak us into life
Until you soak us into your soul
Until you weave us into the very fibers of your being.
Fighters, bring us to bear!
Shout to your foes from atop grainy soapboxes
embedded within the grassy earth;
let your commanding footing propel you into the heavens!
Feel the wind carry your voice across the open plain and
SPEAK! BELLOW! SHOUT! BATTLE CRY!
They shall know the fear in their bones
and the goose flesh under their rattling armor
like death prickling the hairs on the back of their neck
until they become trodden in the earth like footstools--
until you walk across them head held high and victorious.
Pedestrians! Love if you dare!
Whisper these words under your breath,
holding doors and blessing sneezes,
smiling lovingly and making eye contact purposefully.
Take the joy in stranger's company or in solitude;
we will linger like pleasant specters,
like a lover's ghost:
waiting for you to follow me into eternity.
Yes, I do declare to be a diligent disciple,
and I roam through dusky towns with no pack on my back
nor a shelter over my matted head;
shouting through barren city streets into the desperate night,
roaming these dusty corridors praying a stranger opens their front door
and turns on the porch light
and lets me in for supper and a place to rest my weary head.
Though I'll soon be on my way again in the morrow,
my prayer,
the one of every aching poet in the midnight haze,
is that I'll linger.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 1:17 AM UTC
O God,
The most beneficent and merciful,
Heal my scars,
Erase all my pain,
And clean my heart,
I may have sinned,
But I now feel it,
As it gets me abyss,
I feel my soul being ruptured from the inside,
I feel the wrongs i've done,
Its so excruciating,
My body seems to paralyze,
The moment I fall on my knees,
Asking for forgiveness.
I have sinned and gone astray,
From the charismatic path that leads to you,
The devil that now feeds on my soul,
It needs to go away,
As I am no more allowing it to prey on my soul.
This evil wipes all the sanity,
Leaving behind only tragedy,
Forgive me O lord,
For I have failed you,
Not once, not twice,
Many times !
I now see a light of hope,
That falls on me,
Awakening the right inside me,
O God make me one of your disciples,
Forgive everybit of what i've done,
So that I live in peace and eternity,
In the life that i've yet to see !
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
Many are called to it-
a craft, an art, a way of life,
but very few are chosen by it.
Should ye prove thyself worthy,
it will take you into consideration:
it's called a discipline for a reason.
Get to know it.
Suffer for it.
Impress it.
Loyal disciples tend to gain blessings.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
In fields where roses fade as finite flowers should
He watches from his mountain; mindfully morose.
Full of sound and fury; sad and surley.
As if made of wood.
He moveth not as a man might move
rather he gather a stretch of wind
and with it work a while, that he may prove.
He is free and clear, he has not sinned.
Yet lost to in trepidation
and filled for five years or more
he is. The child of every nation,
being but a borrower among the poor.
Carry no comforts nor glee
while whistling workers are whimpering;
their pain, an ease to see.
The game is paved with suffering
and always played so thoughtlessly.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
"Impulse is master",
said the learned man.
"It brings disaster
to a pondered plan."
*But what about choice?
That's what I've been taught.*
Trying speech, no voice
came, instead forethought
echoed through my head:
speak, and you'll be trapped!
I sat, mute as lead;
the man, smiling, clapped.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
When the Disciple is ready
The Master will Appear
In silence.
With answers,
Not the cure.
Dont rush so much
He will come
Who ever he is
Where ever you'll be
The Master will appear
When The Disciple is ready.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC