"girded" poems
Ongoing failures of the Church to act,
will guarantee the sure success of evil;
for faith without works is… still dead
and visible today is spiritual upheaval.
The internal chasm between the members
of both sides -the presbytery and laity-
must be bridged with faithful cooperation,
girded with policies that last permanently.
Even today, God is quietly waiting on the Body,
while the unsaved are queued up for Hell.
Individual Faith is a person’s responsibility,
but the Great Commission impels us to tell…
others about God, His Love and Christ’s Salvation.
After 2000+ years, The World has not misunderstood.
A final solution is required and not yet in place-
each of us must desire to… overcome Evil with good!
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Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
James 2:14-26; Obad 1:11-15; Gal 6:7-9;
Matt 5:45, 28:16-20
All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is
that good men continue to do nothing -Edmund Burke
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
Swept in on the sixth of the first
Icy winds sluiced on dripping fleecy snow showers
I saw a raging storm coming with vile foreboding nursed
Staple in peace in love in goodwill laid a fitting banquet for all hours
Rewards for toil and strive in minds attuned and goodness versed
I knelt supplicant before my Lord
Laid my just heart bare and without fear or dread
laid a ringing vow as in warmth or bellowing thundering cold
I rest in the forethought I am girded to sail sun's flames un thread
For no blooded being can justly state I harmed or injured in my fold
I will walk this vale of tears
Meet with demons and the ****** of the outer worlds
Face the volcanoes in hell and shame blazing red lava ingots
I will not cower before deadly serpents or baulk at icy frozen walls
If I fall I will stand again an again till God's time uneaten by maggots
I implored my Faithful Lord
Take me down grind and cast me asunder and bereft
If this be ordained that an innocent soul pays an unjust price
The darkest storm has raged wild and furious a depraved joy theft
My God upholds me and holds that truths and honesty never a vice
[email protected].
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC
Do you realize that races are overrated,
since God is no respecter of persons?
Colored perceptions of hatred and bigotry
may ultimately destroy our existence.
Who needs people that:
• Lack brotherly love and respect for others
• Lust for power, wealth and **********
• Lack vision and purpose
• Lack maturity and wisdom
• Have attitudes of superiority
• Are poor in spirit
• Lack discipline and self-control
Colored attitudes, regarding skin tones and hues,
pale in contrast to uncontrolled emotions.
Without responsibility and accountability,
people get themselves in trouble rather quickly.
Who really wants or needs:
• Red’s lustful, passion for someone other than your spouse?
• or Green’s destructional envy of others’ wealth or possessions?
• or Yellow’s fear, smelling of ***** from peeing ourselves?
• or White’s collection of powdered deaths?
• or Blue’s inner sadness or coldness towards others?
• or Brown’s poverty, shame and overall uncleanness?
• or Orange steadfastness for a Godless life?
• or Purple’s smugness from a self-conceived ideal of royalty?
• or Black’s foreboding sicknesses and death?
Our human collective needs to find real commonality,
within this brotherhood of man, as planetary stewards.
Under girded with a genuineness of concern and love,
true understanding can lead to harmonious relationships.
We all have the ability to commune with God’s Spirit;
however, we each must have a desire to do so.
Utopia may be unattainable, unlike… unity of community.
And yes, I forgive you, for thinking I might be racist.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Acts 10: 34; Gal 2: 6; Deut 10: 17; 1 Pet 1: 17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http: //www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
[Dedicated to G. M. Marston]
Pale as the night that pales
In the dawn's pearl-pure pavillion,
I wait for thee, with my dove's breast
Shuddering, a god its bitter guest-
Have I not gilded my nails
And painted my lips with vermillion ?
Am I not wholly stript
Of the deeds and thoughts that obscure thee?
I wait for thee, my soul distraught
With aching for some nameless naught
In its most arcane crypt-
Am I not fit to endure thee?
Girded about the paps
With a golden girdle of glory,
Dost thou wait me, thy slave who am,
As a wolf lurks for a strayed white lamb?
The chain of the stars snaps,
And the deep of night is hoary!
Thou whose mouth is a flame
With its seven-edged sword proceeding,
Come ! I am writhing with despair
Like a snake taken in a snare,
Moaning thy mystical name
Till my tongue is torn and bleeding!
Have I not gilded my nails
And painted my lips with vermillion?
Yea ! thou art I; the deed awakes,
Thy lightening strikes; thy thunder breaks
Wild as the bride that wails
In the bridegroom's plumed pavillion!
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(Tune: “Londonderry Air")
Here in the vista of three hundred years we stand,
Our torches kindled by thy guiding light.
A Pilgrim host, we come to thee from every land,
With joyful hopes, well girded by thy might.
Connecticut, beloved State, all hail to thee;
Tower of might against a flaming sky,
The heav’ns resound with praise, ring out with victory.
God speed you on and all your glories sanctify.
Through summer heat and winter cold thy honor stands,
A bulwark gainst the mighty hosts of sin,
Till love shall spread to earth’s most distant island strands,
And Heaven’s righteous ways o’er evil win.
Connecticut, advancing through the changing years,
May knowledge guide thy sons and daughters fair,
And honor, truth and wisdom banish all our fears,
Connecticut, while we thy many glories share!
The years shall pass across thy mighty mountain walls,
Against the gold of every setting sun,
A newer host, well-born within thy ancient halls,
Shall bear thy standards of new glories won.
Connecticut, our fathers kept thy honor fair,
Thy reach of love they widened to the sea.
We shall keep faith, where they fought; we, too, shall dare,
Connecticut, for aye we pledge our hearts to thee.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 9:00 AM UTC
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o’er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing ‘gainst Time’s scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
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You've ripped open the lid of protection
You've torn down the walls of self-preservation
I'm stripped bare before You - no covering of self remains
Just when I though I had my kingdom secure
Just when I though I had perfected the act of surety
I have girded myself upon pillars of another man's vision
I lay in the vineyards of an angry man's dreams
My vineyard I have forsaken behind walls of disillusionment
Being yoked up with a man's burdens of works
I look at the walls surrounding my hopes
Vines of youth now overgrown and wild; forsaken and empty
You came with Your sickle and cut into branches of coldness and fear
You tear apart the thicket of my soul to find hope of fruitfulness
You break down the walls of separation and call me out
"Come here! Come here! Breathe again the long lost breaths of refreshing!"
How do I depart from the expectations of those I am yoked to?
How do I escape the despising of those who have created my place in this world?
How do I go? Where is the trail of those who have walked this way before?
I see You through tears of fear and shame
I see You through tears of desire and desperation
Your eyes pierce through the deception I found comfort in
Your arms reach past this world I found security in
Your voice strikes into the center of a child's heart long gone in a world I don't belong
I want only You! I need only You!
I'm ready to rebuild the old places
I'm ready for the pain of purging
Come, Lord Jesus! Come!
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 11:02 PM UTC
rivers of metal
unable to flow
trapped
by sheer volume
in gorges of girded concrete
fingers drumming
frustrated heartbeats
on immobilised steering wheels
imprisoned
impotent
feeling the passage of
time that doesn’t wait
Sep 3, 2010
Sep 3, 2010 at 1:30 AM UTC
Particle pieces
gathered, gleaned-
recovered.
Stitched and sewn.
Plush patches
mortared with Mercy.
Tears uniquely unexampled.
Yet my Redeemer’s requisition.
Girded and guarded
while broken and bandaged.
My benefactioned breath…
a cloak for the King.
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 8:42 PM UTC
The came down from their misty mountain hold
Short of stature but oh so bold
Helms of beaten iron on their heads
Belts of gold on girded waist
Sword Axe and hammer, the tools of war
Oaken shields also worn
They came to beard the dragon in his lair
Bring rescue to a maiden fair
Held in fear against her will
In that rancid caven deep in the hill
Each warrior knew of the danger faced
But would not retreat as coward disgraced
When the searing flame of hell released
Would burn the hair and singe the face
For these were warriors of a race so old
They the dwarves from the misty mountain holds
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
Real Truth is still being sought out,
in this ever growing Age of Information;
the rise of social media has added
to the noise against spiritual institutions.
Unfortunately, ungodly behaviors continue to play out
within our society, neighborhoods and church pulpits.
We Christians must wholeheartedly repent now,
before His divine Grace, we unwittingly forfeit.
Sacred texts attest to God’s existence by faith,
while Science can only prove Him via logical sight.
Genuine and unstoppable power comes from His Word
and never by the temporary strength of human might.
Personal accountability and responsibility
can be displayed via righteous servitude;
develop your unique identity in Christ
with the character of ethical fortitude.
Consumption of the Scriptures should not be ignored
in favor of viewing biblically, inspired frescos.
Be girded on the foundation of Jehovah’s principles
and put an end to the ongoing… moral fiascos.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 6:10; Lam 3:22-23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
Welcome to Catharosia
Come and succumb to our pitiful wail
An allegory written with paints of girded soul;
There, we drench ourselves in colorful shivers
Here, we cleanse our soul for the joy of the universe;
Another day to create
Roses of the night that result in heavy dreams,
Sorority flies, and dead passions of desperate poets;
In the world where we purge ourselves,
Sanity is not our company—
To the torn pages faded by the light
To the worn out tales dimmed by the dark
Here is our salutations and solitude;
Our words untangled and jumbled tears
Will serve you deeds of crumbling back to a piece;
She oozes blood and agony
He ruptures terrors and improbability
They ***** contemplation and daydreams sewn
We engrave beautiful macabre and adored pain—
Where clowns shall dwell and kings lay to death
Where sins tremble and tragedies rejoice
Jolly remains of the day are what we produce
Masked by anxious sorrows and fear so erudite
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC
My name is Royalty, the daughter of a King. I am clothed in righteousness and adorned in strength
My ability and skill daily reaches new lengths
I am girded with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control
I am capable of achieving my dreams and aspirations is what I am always told
I accessorize my outfit with my belt of truth, shield of faith, helmet of salvation and my favorite; my sword of the spirit
By wearing these accessories daily, I am able to reach new limits
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me
Because to Him, I know a princess I will always be
I strive daily to make Him proud
I am the Daughter of a King and I will scream it out loud
I will praise God in the valley and I will praise Him on the mountain top
Because I know His love for me will NEVER stop
My name is Royalty, the daughter of a King and one day I plan to receive my crown of salvation
Will you come along with me on my trip to Heaven for an eternal vacation?
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
*deep deep
in the
in the inner inner
cauldron of self
one can hear weeping
it is Achlys
daughter of Nyx
pale emaciated
her razor teeth chattering
over pomegranate tongue saliva
elongated mottled nails like shears
etch a wooden table
and sever small rodents
for nourishment
dismal girl with swollen knees
thick dust upon her shoulders
her nostril's dripping
like drenched grass
demons concealment veiled
yet her scut barely hidden
while attraction remains
the fabric of existence
the sacramental bed of Christianity
carries the fear of authenticity
the aperture of *** betrayed
by girded *****
renders self a darkened hollow
incomplete and hypocrite
absent of beauties gift
a pink light bleeding
daughter
of the night*
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 9:02 PM UTC
wrestling with evil
wear complete suit of armor
~ conquer with courage
rescued from onslaught
lies and misinformation
~ ***** girded with truth
safeguarding our hearts
resisting the evil day
~ righteousness’ breastplate
love for our neighbor
giving’s greater happiness
~ feet shod with good news
strongly entrenched things
evil one’s burning missiles
~ faith’s protective shield
empty deceptions
soundness of mind endangered
~ salvation’s helmet
God’s Word is alive
source of unending wonder
~ sword of the spirit
Seek help from on high
trust the one who is unseen
~ pray incessantly
Mark Toney ©️ 2021
Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 11:18 AM UTC
A hero once of no reknown, a man of name unknown,
did seek to win a might prize of treasures yet unseen.
He girded up himself to go and no one cheered his way,
he travelled out against the cold and journeyed through the day.
And no one wondered why he did and no one saw his path,
alone as none had been before he faced the winter's storms.
He was a man with youthful face yet laughter he knew not,
there was a kindness in his ways and depth to all he thought.
As he walked out along a trail he heard the erie howl
of wolves as they track down their prey and he went to look about.
A cottage neat was in the woods, nearby a forge it stood,
and hungry wolves were all about the cottage in the wood.
And by the forge a man lay dead, his body torn and burned,
for when the wolves they had attacked upon his forge he fell.
The grizzly scene struck terror in the heart of the young man,
but then he heard a child call to her father as she ran.
Without a thought of self he went quick down from where he stood,
and grabbed a sword from out the forge and ran to aid the child.
The blade it burned deep into his hand but he dare not let it go,
and with the burning blade he fought and he dispatched the foe.
Then taking up the frightened child he took her to her home,
and first he tended to her fears before he did his hands.
The sword which came out of the forge and cooled in the fight
he kept there at his side as he sat waiting out the night.
And when the morning light it came a woman's wails he heard,
and stepping out he saw her kneel there at the dead man's side.
She was the mother of the child returning back from town,
to find the horror of the sight, her world had been torn down.
The hero stayed with her a while and helped her with the child,
and in return she gave the sword with which he'd saved the girl.
And on he went to seek that prize he knew to be so grand,
not realizing all the while he held it in his hand.
Alone once more and still unknown the hero walked the road,
his every action noble and his every thought was good.
And many times he used the blade to fight for what was right,
and never was a finer blade e'er seen in human sight.
One day he stopped a while to drink at an inn along the way,
and a woman saw his still scarred hand and asked if she might sit.
She said she had a tale to tell of a man who had been brave,
and who had found her as a child and who her life did save.
She said she knew that man by sight for his hands were deeply scarred,
by the burning blade which he had used to protect her from the wolves.
Kind sir, she said, why do you search for the thing already found?
You have the Burning Blade of Truth, the treasure most renowned.
My mother often speaks of you in words of glowing praise,
and it would be an honor if you came and lived with us.
At last he knew that she was right and that his search was over,
and so he came to settle down and married the girl's mother.
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 12:50 PM UTC
In Him alone, I find perfect rest for my spirit.
My soul’s satisfaction is girded by Salvation;
Christ is my rock, my fortress of protection,
and the lasting source of my Faith’s foundation.
In Him alone, I place my entire, unshaken trust.
Today, the enemy continues to assault my soul,
using his pain weapon of lie-laden speech;
yet, His Love exudes power that makes me whole.
In Him alone, I have placed my heart’s hope.
My dependence, remains on Christ, as my refuge.
Therefore, I stand with my personal conviction,
against the enemy’s onslaught and false deluge.
In Him alone, I have gained the final victory.
The sting of Death has been eternally conquered;
spiritual provisions were provided in advance;
in the cleft’s rock, my life has been anchored.
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Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Psa 62; 1 Cor 15:55-58; Exo 33:12-23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 8:58 AM UTC
I've chaptered longingly...storied...
where the characters of him can
not stand apprised...no ***** to be
girded.
As yet...and as yet...a momentous
patience has captured the essence
that can not motion...but be beyond
doubt.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 1:09 AM UTC
Lateness of night,the earliness of morning
where the twine meet between stars and dawn
I feel the ******* of fear and anxiety that won't
leave willingly.
Where is my armor and my weapons to fight,
even being girded,I feel so lost to the Art of War.
The heart beats,the blood flows,eyes are dry
my body is at peace...
then a big bang of creation of ********** of peace to panic
and terror begins to lord over me...soul and body to become
my Master.
Control lost,dignity shattered,the Master takes over,
my body overtaken with fits of puppetry,the fear ravages my psyche,
I am losing myself.
God Almighty hear the piercing cry of the violent silence,
help me for I am helpless,hopeless to return my sanity,
the peace I had possessed.
Fear cuts me and I bleeding out hope...
Stop this chaos of flinging limbs without knowledge of it's humanity.
Dear Jesus hear my pain for it speaks from the grave that should be empty because You took my place.
Fear and its legion try to resurrect the old man and it's sins that are gone by your love.
Fear was my name but You gave me a new name
speak it over me so I can fight one more battle,this one,
the war I leave to You.
Permeate my being with Light to illuminate all the fear torn darkness.
As I shiver down to my bones,I wait in hope and childlike tears to be redeemed and saved by your loving hand just one more time.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 6:28 AM UTC
When soon
I touch again the naked grass
It caked in layered frost of grey ground street
And clay of Lancaster brown-girded on its
Many slender leggings
It could the start of summer be
At spring no cake of rotting ice
But clay on slender leggings
No snow to hide and stifle life but spots of clay and grind
And chance for life at angle down the side
As on the side a hole upon my trample
And greenish specks of life
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
Today, I walked
along a river girded by concrete
as fall's cold hand caressed the sage nearby
Today, I walked
among hundreds of shades of sepia, brown, vermillion
as I heard my footfalls distinctly, with no green, dewy foliage
to soften my heavy steps
Today, I walked
among the surrendering of Naure
to fall's cold hand, which caressed the sage nearby
What parts of me are dry
What parts of me are brown, with no verve
What can soften my heavy footfalls
Today, I walked
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 3:24 PM UTC
Amidst roving and pondering, appeared a clear portrait of greatness
An imagination that eludes man, with rich thoughts of a fortress
Girded by tides of frequent passages, of whom to bear
A wall with no boundaries or limits, deep-rooted foundations to harden
Yet barricades stand along, the ones to conquer
A fortification every mortal craves to bear, each moment with a record
While kings and mighty men work endlessly to behold,
Toiling day and Night, with sweat and blood, they stood apart for this reward
A ceaseless search for the prized asset, But at what price does this feat come?
Strength and intelligence wrestle, to be or not to be
The mantle of power being exchanged for glory
Glories of celestial hopes, of foretold divine beings
Faiths mankind is yet to bear, but still with a yardstick to present
Has Nature evolves, memories and revelations of heroes never cease
Time after time, yet we still run same race with poles apart
With priceless ego, men converge to fight
The fight for what seem to be theirs
Some miss it, others win it
To live as a villain or die a hero, Men of valor martyred for glory sake
Captured by the pictures of the black and white, false memories prevailed
Crave for good tidings swathed the hungry minds of men
Diverse minds of weaklings and that of great men
They pondered, either vague or carnal
The creed of Greatness lies within the mantle of belief
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
The picture of perfection
bisque, fired and annealed
a picture perfect complexion
heart and soul, revealed
Eyes, there comes a light
girded in leather mail
ever ready for the fight
a balancing, of scale
Her minute cracks, are her scars
her words flow upon the screen
emotions, clearer than brightest stars
gleaning rhyme, sincere and so serene
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC