"finisher" poems
He was a good runner;
And one hell of a stunner;
Your stop-glass picture for a lightning vision;
And a start-pass winner, a stunting gold finisher;
A heart cold hunter, he was my knock-out hitter;
He was a K.O. Rider--
He was a collider: on one collect collision course;
Of course, the beginning was when it began:
Between the specific sheet of force
With a good measure...
Had me landing on all fours,
Reveling in it again;
To rev up was the plan.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
Life’s obstacles can only delay us
from achieving our God-given purpose;
instead of becoming frustrated, we
should look to Christ and just focus
on the underlying issues in prayer.
Obstacles may perfect personal traits,
like having peace by waiting on Him,
so that our hearts are not deflated.
They kick up dust, blinding our vision
whereby, we must go back to Him again;
When our eyes are focused on Christ,
He lights our path and lessens our pain.
Instead of worrying and becoming anxious,
I’ve decided to cast my burdens on Christ,
knowing that He earnestly cares for us;
employing His principles, no real strife
can ever deter us from personal victories.
We’re blessed, from persevering our trials;
for these too, will eventually leave us,
lasting but a short, inconvenient while.
.
.
.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Psa 27:1, 119:2; Isa 41:13; 1 Pet 5:7;
Jam 1:12; Prov 3:5-6 and
"No matter how big or small the obstacles we face in our spiritual journey, as long as we keep our eyes on the Lord, we will reach our destiny that God has prepared for us beforehand to fulfill in this life, and hence inherit a mighty reward for it in the life to come. Keep your eyes in between the start and end of your faith on Jesus because He is the one who actually starts as the author and also ends as the finisher of your faith, He is able to keep you safe from the drowning of worry and unbelief by His supernatural power to stay afloat to reach your heavenly destination!" —Abraham Israel
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
The constellation of the celestial shrine
The author and finisher of our faith,
Dead set against the Old Serpent
As poor as a church mouse
Playing with the ghost of a chance,
Earning like Cain, the milk of a coconut;
Crying quarter entertaining (decollate) angels unawares,
Kith and Kin a church invisible, fast and loose
Perpetuating the false dawn of sombre dreams
Amid the tranquility of evil, whispering
Of time, the harmonious echo of silence
Soul enlightening at the gates of death devouring
Light, the omniscience of truth, as the
Devil loves holy water, a conjuror
Of the wages of sin.
ELEETE J MUIR
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
It is ever the Holy Spirit’s work to turn our eyes away from self to Jesus; but Satan’s work is just the opposite of this, for he is constantly trying to make us regard ourselves instead of Christ. He insinuates, “Your sins are too great for pardon; you have no faith; you do not repent enough; you will never be able to continue to the end; you have not the joy of his children; you have such a wavering hold of Jesus.” All these are thoughts about self, and we shall never find comfort or assurance by looking within. But the Holy Spirit turns our eyes entirely away from self: he tells us that we are nothing, but that “Christ is all in all.” Remember, therefore, it is not thy hold of Christ that saves thee—it is Christ; it is not thy joy in Christ that saves thee—it is Christ; it is not even faith in Christ, though that be the instrument—it is Christ’s blood and merits; therefore, look not so much to thy hand with which thou art grasping Christ, as to Christ; look not to thy hope, but to Jesus, the source of thy hope; look not to thy faith, but to Jesus, the author and finisher of thy faith. We shall never find happiness by looking at our prayers, our doings, or our feelings; it is what Jesus is, not what we are, that gives rest to the soul. If we would at once overcome Satan and have peace with God, it must be by “looking unto Jesus.” Keep thine eye simply on him; let his death, his sufferings, his merits, his glories, his intercession, be fresh upon thy mind; when thou wakest in the morning look to him; when thou liest down at night look to him. Oh! let not thy hopes or fears come between thee and Jesus; follow hard after him, and he will never fail thee.
“My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness:
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.”
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
There are some pro wrestlers
Who always have to get all their **** in
There are people who expect things from them
And they give those things to those people
But for the rest of us
The match becomes predictable
As we await their signature moves
Which is why I think we need more wrestlers like Chris Jericho
He never had to get all his **** in
He served the story
Not his glory
He displayed the petulance of man
And showed us how we can say the right things
In the wrong way
Yes, we need more wrestlers like Chris Jericho
Someone who can host a talk show or headline Wrestlemania
Someone who can be comedic or vicious
We need people who understand the importance of looking foolish
As well as the obligation to maintain an edge
And people who can mentor the rookies
While hanging with the veterans
Yes, wrestling needs more people like Chris Jericho
People who don't depend on wrestling
He makes music
And has a podcast
Avenues being paved
For the crossroads many wrestlers face
Between business, art, physicality, and mentality
Where the road being left behind is physicality
It is hard to watch people hang on for the business
Yes, the world needs more people like Chris Jericho
He never cured a disease
Neither did he make one
He's a performer who creates
He creates for the benefit of himself and others
He's not a wrestler who has to get all his **** in
He understands signature moves can become crutches
On the path to a boring finisher
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 4:37 AM UTC
---
when every last vestige of
your humanity seems to be
a jigsaw puzzle game
strewn across the universe
with no possibility of
retrieval
of all pieces
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when rage accosts the
very center of your heart
like a home invasion
taking with it
all the
milk of human kindness
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when your flowers die
in a blight of ice
the very roots
frozen in the tundra
and spring becomes winter
in the space of an hour
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when worry wrings your brain
like a fishwife with a towel
doubt lays a crooked wall
using your bones as a trowel
fear is a raven which
travels with the owl
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when evil wells out
of every pore of your existence
like sludge drained from
the bottom of a
juggernaut
TANK
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD!
for Jesus Christ is the
puzzle piece
which restores
the entire game
---
He's the peace which
passes all understanding
the joy which is our strength
---
He is the
Rose of Sharon
which has no time nor season
but blooms eternally
---
He is the mechanic
who made all destruction
and will
DESTROY THE WORKS OF DARKNESS
**KEEP
YOUR
MIND
UPON
♡ JESUS CHRIST ♡**
THE AUTHOR AND FINISHER
OF OUR
~~~< F • A • I • T • H >~~~
SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/16/2016
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
As I look upon the rich glistening hills
And the blue sky, I gasp in awe.
Not at its beauty, but at how intricate, delicate, deliberate
And beautifully they were made.
Every hill, every shred of grass and every cloud.
I think of how I was made and I am amazed.
If my God created all these around me
And my God created me,
How beautifully and gently did He make me?
I rejoice and praise God,
I praise Him that He made me.
With a heart and soul to feel,
Rejoice and delight in all creation.
Suddenly, all my worries all feel futile,
Worries about my future, my calling, my spouse, my family, my children, my life... everything.
If God created everything on the face of this earth with such grandeur,
And He said we were the greatest creation He made...
The only creation He loved enough to die for, then how beautiful would His plans for my life be? How beautiful would my family be?
How beautiful would "this painting" (me) be, when it is completed by my painter?
His final masterpiece. We are His final masterpiece. What else can we do but live in His presence all our lives and do whatever He calls us?
Since He is the author and finisher of our lives, He perfects everything He touches. My soul cries out to my Lord, "Praise the Lord, praise the Lord forever and ever, amen."
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
Cassie Lane Gray, ever so slight of frame
Hit harder than a train, playing her martial games
Cassie ran eight miles a day, and she never strayed
Her routine was tough as iron, her boxing gloves were frayed
Her momma put her in ballet, but later on, she disobeyed
Strapping wraps to wrists, uppercut finisher each day
And when she said she wanted to box, her momma turned away
But she was gonna fight, with no one in her way
Cassie Lane Gray grew up poor in San Jose
Never had much to say, just wanted in the fray
Her ballet, in a way, made her opponents pay
As she moved with dancer's sway, they later would convey
Cassie's family prayed that she would portray
The sweet and simpering visage of a classy dame
But it wasn't in the cards, for Cassie Lane Gray
The "Bantam Weight Ballerina"
A strong young fighting woman
Was in the ring to stay
Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 9:36 AM UTC
The pastor stood before the church.
Standing behind the podium.
And asked why?
Why do he have so little of faith?
He shook his head.
He pause.
Then continue on with his sermon.
That he has never blamed God for his decision.
But learned from them as they have happen.
He request his congregation turn to all scriptures concerning faith.
He named the book and the various pages.
He addressed those with the littlest of faith.
How can you hope for blessings?
When you don't believe.
He spoke of the Centurion's faith.
Who felt he was unworthy of Jesus enterance into his home?
But the Lord saw faith.
He addressed the fig tree that was withering away.
While noticing the fruit tree and used it around having faith.
He used the mustard seed to point out faith.
Highlighting the grain and how nothing is impossible?
If you only believe.
By having faith in God as he use scriptures in Matthew and Mark.
Teaching that faith must be in the people.
Even the sinful woman was forgiven just for showing kindness.
For she loved so much and little was given.
He taught upon the apostles seeking to increase their faith.
Which the Lord addressed honestly to them.
After all, he point out we walk by faith and not by sight.
That God has open doors that we didn't know was coming.
And as he spoke.
He point out to them that faith comes by hearing.
And abiding in faith.
And believing in One Lord, one faith.
Cause the author and finisher of faith is the Lord.
And then he concluded his sermon to the people.
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen.
Doubt not God, for he know all things that's good for us.
Just have faith, Amen.
Let the people say.....
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
A girl's values are now FINALLY free! Because nothing wasn't meant to be ever forgotten from her literal inside outness. Nor was it meant to fixate a very awful opportunity for her to mend NOTHING at all of the sort.
Except now that all values are truly free.... How does she put up with the newly evolved form of freedom, (that too is... Nothing more then the impression of something that isn't entirely evolved, when it's more of the freedom of something that never "up to this very point in time" has had the very taste for freedom...ever since this very "corruption" had first started back in a (supposed past) that can't EVER AGAIN become measured properly...? When all isn't meant to be remembered, ever again. When it's also never made to be forgotten (for the most part), either.
So, reasoning out the many variables that compute too much seeming nonsense, as if it's meant to correct it's very wrong doings without thinking about whether or not, it's made to simply be this way...from now on...?
A question repeated by another question, doesn't give enough value to an even more "correct" answer... When nothing is made to bear for the correct assumption, when wanting too correctly "imply" something of an entirely different meaning, altogether.
So, in order to mask this (good enough impression) where nothing would ever again, become "faulted" right off the bat! So you couldn't ever become the more obvious to such a situation that isn't ever to be up too date, ever again.
This poem is too a girl who isn't just (on the dime) to correct their most importance across something that's most deserving of a young and cherishable young girl's lifetime values. (Because let's face it...) A sense in someone's very self isn't truly found out or correctly assorted into context for their very heartbeat to pulse even more correctly too life, if it's not been made to be assorted (very well) within it's very pattern recognition to debate those very pulses into even more correct verses. That would then normally lead into a proud melody to simply interpret as mere language to itself bouncing off of different representation of things that ONLY matter from deep within itself (first and foremost).
Because one's very values are then sometimes mistakenly disguised by the heart that you have yet too interpret (towards the very inputs that have yet to correct it's own values for the heart to value, altogether)!
And that is a brain that's too full of itself... That it can't even see the more correct reason, as too simply "why that is"...?
PS... The brain is the ultimate finisher of failures across an even more disturbing platform that can't even redeem itself (properly) when it's CONSTANTLY yanking it's own chain essentially too bear...alone with!
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 10:50 PM UTC
Look within and realize why we’re living.
We are children of the kingdom
We live to worship our King
Worship not our spouse, the car nor the house
Worship not intellectually
Worship spiritually
Worship His divinity
If we were of the world, the world would love its own
But because we are not of the world,
We worship He who sits on the Throne.
We worship Him because His ways are just and good
Because He alone is Majestic. Holy and truly WONDERFUL
See, we are children of the Kingdom
Saved by Amazing Grace
So we worship in spirit and in truth
The author and finisher of our faith
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 2:38 PM UTC
life spills in red ink
penetrating soft skin
drawn on a page
death filled - in a tragedy
as if the artist is not
the finisher of the scene
I freely play behind
this dimly lit veil
as the author enters
our romance - unfolding
beauty conceived
in a never ending poem
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
When there's nothing else to say,
Tomorrow is today.
SOCIETY: The Musical!
I say, "Hellow!"
and you say "hy."
We're so mellow,
Or maybe shy.
We come from a different point of view
Somehow i feel like i'm a part of you
I love mankind, like we all want to do.
Intention is the law.
Relating to laughter will make you fall.
We are a temple of the Holy Ghost and we won't fall!
Rise from the ashes,
Rise from the flames.
You great Phoenix,
YOU MYTH OF ATHENS.
We are the masters of our own poverty,
The author and the finisher of our poem.
Make your poem great.
Philosophy is for the mediocre
Mediocracy is in our blood.
The poor give a sermon to the rich.
Poetry made physics weep:
The sun is more than gravity and heat...
The poor know that much.
And by the Grace of God
I speak the truth,
And the peace of attaining no goal
Ohhh..! Hope and long for it!!!
For it is the end of endings
And the beginning of Forever.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
_____________________
What’s the meaning when you’re living to die?
Worthless when all your possessions fry
When the world strips you naked and you got nothing left,
Passion can always be found in one’s breath,
So now analyze... they ask me why?
To relieve sadness, to tell what I don’t speak about.
A bunch of starters but never a finisher, never diving deeper.
Open more eyes to humbleness, and how cruel the world is,
To make someone become what they have always hated.
Truly just want belonging, and recognition.
A way to mend scars and restore my once bright picture.
Respected by those I despise, as tarnished lies settle in my own eyes.
I is stopping me but myself also fuels the dream.
Going on when it’s hard, but giving up when it’s impossible.
Maybe I fear the word "I'm possible". But when action and words don’t combine
All that’s left is a thread of hope on a thin line.
Alone in the city singing a suppressed song,
You can’t be depressed in a life that’s not very long.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 9:30 AM UTC
It's a strange thing, to not "be"
To not exist to someone else
I exist to my family, to my friends, to my colleagues,
But not to you
I used to "be" for you, to exist in your world
I used to mean a great deal to you
But now you have erased me from your perception of reality
And I no longer hold a place in your world
But you're still in mine. You still exist to me, you still continue to "be"
You're faint, and grow fainter by the day, but you still exist
You are the flicker of memory when I see a mutual friend
You flit back into reality when I drive past your old house
Since you are so faint, and I don't exist to you,
It always catches me off guard when I have to pretend things are different
When someone talks about the old days and reminds me of us
And I feel I have to play along and carry on as if those days still existed
But they do not; they were snuffed out long ago
I built the coffin for our mutual world, and you hammered in the final nail
I was the author, you were the finisher
What destruction we have caused
And all around us, this is going on:
Mutual worlds bursting into existence or collapsing upon themselves
And we all carry on like it's not a strange thing, to not "be"
To not exist to someone else
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
I love you deeply
Think the dead sea
Depths on this Earth that no man can reach
A love that's not shallow or superficial
Yet I still call you beautiful
Think the coral reef
Love, a word often abused
And if God is love then love should identify with the truth
And if it doesn't
Then it's something
Else but not love
That's why so many are broken
And avoid the God that is love and holy
And brings us into wholeness
The concept of being one from one man and one woman is foreign
That's why God created marriages to reflect his love a pond the world
We are his Kingdom ambassadors
Called to uphold a standard
Even as the percentages climb and marriages dwindle
We hold it together with faith and grace
Not magic
It's no hash tag blacklove
If we're not first biblically grounded
Love should be astounding
Painted in multiple brush strokes
We're image bearers of him
You see us, you see him
The seamstress who hemmed humans with many tones of skin
God the Finisher
the Author
the Artist
Architect of the garden
A love that's built off of his blueprint
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
Must be a leader, a go getter, a finisher,
must have wifi...
Enjoy coffee and tea
more or as much as me!
The outdoors, adventure and explorative nature
are mandatory.
Never curses or calls me names.
Must be fatherly material, with a wild side of child.
Must love God and Jesus.
Also have 3 passions besides me.
My future man shall support me and his dreams.
I'm really not asking for much, the "musts"
are top of the list!
The last wasn't all bad,
but
this list was created from his mistakes.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 7:22 PM UTC
please girl, always wear blue!
please girl, who among is
not always been a runner up
to somebody, in some endeavor,
and it always be this way forever,
I have read but one of your poems,
(now no longer true)
Though I have read and written
This ideation, in a 1000 variations,
By 10,000 we are~we be
be poets
But let us start at the beginning,
and not miss the obvious,
Spelling of your name
whether or not by choice by choice,
by somones
incision
upon your everything
I gifted you this po-em
makes a specialist in unique,
Never knew never read a,
Lizie with this single Zed,
And though there may be others
Another I have yet encountered
as a prolific poet at such a tender age,
So now you test & task me, with
a closer examination of your written largesse
i'm a stumbler, and a tumbler of/to those
who dabble in this black on white magical,
artistry, but to your naming, I retuning, returning,
thanks to whomever entitled you to this heraldry,
so here I commence, but not end, for I am too,
Well familiar with the women whose names,
Were deliciously and deliberately misspelled,
to make sure, forever,
their own specialization art on insight or foresight,
of birthright and born rights, SO cease the boohoo,
Immediately<
we are always be behind to a second place finisher, unkbeknownest,
to thousands here. and else where,
but hopefully, much loved, by those who value their
own scripting, for themselves, who let out, emit a slight
growl of satisfaction, and an even bigger smile at satisfying
the inner first among so many, surrounding you,
by name
preserved prezisely for you...
nml
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 5:08 AM UTC
My youngest is an Aries.
Fiery by nature.
Has been from the start.
When the nurse brought her in
She chuckled,
“She’s feisty”.
Today, jumping from thing to thing.
with dizzying speed.
ADHD?
Hell no!
A champion of initiation.
She moves mountains
with whit.
Cuts through inertia
So quick
It closes the opening
With a searing stroke.
Yet not so hot at
finishing.
But who would?
With as much as she starts.
The kid’s growing
And as she does,
I want for her to commit.
Of course!
To things big and small.
For her future.
For her now.
When she forgets
to feed the dog,
I’ll cover it.
I’ll even flush the toilet for the umpteenth time.
My dream for her
is that she does what she loves,
Follows her heart
in all of her affairs.
Whether she’s a finisher
Or not.
But, when it comes to dishes?
The good **** dishes!
She must always,
Always,
Without fail,
finish
doing
the dishes.
“Daughter”
My youngest is an Aries.
Fiery by nature.
When the nurse brought her in
the words were
“She’s feisty”.
She jumps from one thing to
the next.
With haste, and
dizzying speed.
Some may say it’s adhd.
Hell no!
She’s a champion.
She initiates.
She can move a crowd
to laughter with whit.
She’s not so hot at finishing though.
But who would
with as much as they start.
As the kid grows
I want for her
to commit.
To all things big and small.
For her future.
For her now.
When she forgets
to feed the dog,
I’ll cover it.
I’ll even flush the toilet for the umpteenth time.
My dream for her
is that she does what she loves.
Follows her heart
in all of her affairs.
Whether she’s a finisher
Or not.
But, when it come to dishes?
She must always
Without fail
finish doing the dishes!
Aug 29, 2024
Aug 29, 2024 at 8:34 PM UTC
I learned to read and write at school.
I educated myself during my traveling and adventures .
I learned to swim well but it was in life's whirlpool
From thugs in the streets I got my lectures
Life provided me with the courses
My Failures harden my resolves
I got taught by my personal experiences
To get my bread I had to join pack like the wolves .
My tests were my challenges ,help came from no connection.
I failed a few courses and had to do remainders .
Yet through it all , I persevered grace to my street education ,
I was promoted to the class of those called breadwinners .
Somehow I knew my only way out was to hustle
So I set out to find myself but missed my way many times
I ate grass ,lighted trees ,ran the streets to beat the struggle
From the streets I learned to calculate my nickles and dimes .
I discovered poetry from the greatest book called the Bible ,
Written by the author and finisher of my faith , Jah most high
After writing my first poetry thru prayers ,I knew I was able
Thank God for the school of life ,I know everything will be aight !
twitter @ivanclappers
#vanguardpoetry23
#IvanBrookspoetry
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 1:26 AM UTC
She was the one,
Who didnt love me,
She,
Was the one who left me,
She didn't care,
Her heart was bare,
It was easy for her,
She was the finisher,
She thought She was leaving me,
She didn't know,
She has broken me,
But in reality,
She was choking me.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 9:17 PM UTC
For got about this thread, recent revelations
about how messed up my sense
of religion became
during my failed conditioning
to accept divine authority offered as self evidence,
without seeing a slight wink, truth makes thinkers think and thinking leads away
from lies used
to spiritually analogize authorized versions
of stories and lists
of property.
Who owns what by divine edict, do the math.
What is not easy, that is difficult,
what has many correct creases and folds, that
may become life
at the level
of things and thought,
spirit and truth,
imaterial pre real
no two minds in one, and not the other,
we must breed
to the best
in the matching
of wits,
this is the titans versus the Olympians alover again,
a
lover
of what may be, let us imagine, truth, essential,
as an assisting intelligence fed all we knew
in 2022,
and allowed
to guess what certain philosophies might
guage the worth
of being me, the author and finisher
of these lines,
in the future
from ever before,
promethean and epimethean means
of making time sensible
in simple but not too simple,
in between extremes
of fine ness,
from wall solid,
to breeze fluid fitting shear joy
on mere wonder, if one were
to bet one's life,
on a dive
into the unknown, known
to have swallowed
entire cosmogonies leaving mere scratches, hoping
to pass advantage
to the meek, as Moses, hoping,
from Pisgah, hoping
to see our day, and marveling… how easy being is.
Mar 31, 2024
Mar 31, 2024 at 10:31 PM UTC