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Alyssa Underwood Aug 2017
In the darkness of constricting depression
I begged the Lord to give me joy even if it killed me,
and He promised me it most assuredly would,
for this is joy’s mantra:

“Death to self!”

It is simply not possible to know the deepest kind of joy
until we have experienced the anguish of death to self
with a cruel stake of affliction though our hearts.
For it is there on the altar of sacrifice
when we have finally surrendered what is most dear to us,
when we have willingly brought our costliest gifts
to lay humbly at the feet of the King,
that we are raised up to know firsthand His resurrection joy
through the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.
No one who has ever truly learned that
“to live is Christ and to die is gain”
has ever escaped this path.

Find me even one.

There is nothing quite like rejection to teach us about God’s love,
nothing quite like loss to teach us of His joy,
nothing like storms to teach peace,
nothing like ruined plans to teach patience,
nothing like loneliness to teach kindness,
nothing like failure to teach us of His goodness,
nothing like betrayal to teach faithfulness,
nothing like being completely misunderstood to teach gentleness
and nothing like humiliation to teach us self-control.

Why is this?

Because there is nothing like pain to chase us to Jesus
and to teach us to rely so helplessly on His Spirit’s filling.
And when we have His filling, we will know His fruit.
~~~

“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”
~Philippians 1:21

“But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them *******, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.”
~ Philippians 3:7-11

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”
~ Galatians 5:22-25

“Then He said to them all: 'Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for Me will save it.'“
~ Luke 9:23-24
In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart

a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
                         breathlessly released
                              unrestrained,..

         ­                          evident
                    as the pressed and dried flowers
          cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
                         bookmarks of the heart

                         traces of the wild bouquets
                         that often soothingly caress’d
                         the energizing tingles  
                         inflaming a tantalizing touch

                         the yearning  empty voids
                         feverishly undressed,
                         traced in the hidden sands
                         of unexplored oceans..
                        
                         though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
  
                         as gentle feather’d touch
                         the evanescent sunset afterglow
                         where the earth and sky align
                         the dimming of the day

         loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―

                         the perennial dawning of an
                         unpromised new day
                         will someday come again

        bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
              flourishing in the meadow of my heart


                 *Someone you used to know
© March 2017
Thank you for reading
.
Emjay Dec 2018
They are one person
They are two alone
They are three together
They are for each other
patty m Apr 15
Notre Dame is burning to the ground
people are sobbing in the streets
all around the world.
How helplessly we watch  
as you become engulfed in flame.  
You endured everything,
the French Revolution and two world wars..  
standing as a beacon of Christianity and history
for 850 years.
Now the bones of your
cathedral lie fragile,  
as angels cry for the loss
of your majesty;
My heart too burns in anguish,
this Monday after Palm Sunday.
How beautifully you held your cross aloft
almost touching heaven with it's gleaming.
Here again, behind closed eyes
Balanced on this fragile threshold
One
Enjoying the moment before it’s over
As morning melts the locks
Two
Tenderly tracing unseen features
Kneading you from dreams and memories
Three
Feeling the meter of your sleeping heartbeat
Synchronizing as we breathe
Four
Folding you closer, moored in your warmth
Pressing your blessed scent against my chest
Five
Picturing the glow outside
Alighting on your resting eyes
Six
Savoring our seven precious seconds
Helplessly defending the present tense
Seven




Today I woke up holding your pillow.
Jack Thompson Mar 2015
Have you ever been angry?
So angry you've scared yourself.
Because for a second you saw that face staring back from within.
An immense depth fast approaching.
So absent of light the only reason you caught a glimpse was those eyes.
Beaming back at you with illumination so frightening your core began to shudder and rumble.

Crumbled down and watched this beast claw its way out.
Over rock and mortar. Through coarse cage of steel.
Those cold eyes staring down - helplessly watching.

This beast was once kept sealed.
Who gave it this key to destruction.
This shapeless fluid in motion soulless tragedy.
Black velvet drape dipped in fiery energy.
Pure hate which had been compressed for eternity.
Now concentrated and intent on wreaking havoc.

I sent my armies. I sent them all.
Countless deaths and yet I sent more.
Quick slaughter - not the painless type.
This beast they could not stall.
Thrashes of bodies. Clawed and torn.
Festering flesh flying from fallen.
Axe, Sword and Mace soaked,
dripping in warm fresh blood-pounding hate.
Shatters of armor and unrecognizable corpses.
What do I do?
It seeks me as a vessel - to be worn.
I can feel the hate changing me.
Quickly now or I'll soon deform.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
ryn Aug 2014
Pedestrian haplessly waiting
For a sign, symbol, anything...
Signs that usher him forth.
Only lead him from north.

Modern hieroglyphs that say,
Halt here... Go that way.
Passing views that beckon
Can't stop but keep direction

Caution...peril impending.
Beware...danger looming .
Watch a storm is brewing.
Stem from aeons' brooding.

Pedestrian...not yet now...
Crawling time you must allow.
Pedestrian...maintain pace.
Don't falter...maintain grace.

Give not to desires' taunts.
Crumble not to guilt that haunts.
Keep moving, stay the course.
Keep at bay, tearful remorse.

Herd along...await instructions.
Restrain all quiet tensions.
Cage within, your sorrowful gait.
Tempted not by beauty's bait.

Pedestrian helplessly waiting.
Between signs, you are searching.
Free will here won't be met.
Your final destination has been set.

Has been set...
Belle Nov 2014
One glance started it all.
Everything faded in the background.
You stood out amongst all souls
I think I have finally been found.

The next day you said hello
I was speechless. I just smiled.
I walk past you with a skip on my toes
My heart just soared a thousand miles.

The next week we were going out
Two souls dancing in the crowd
It was almost, almost a fairy tale
Oh! My heart was beating so loud.

The next month I finally said yes
When you asked if I could be your girl
I was wearing this pretty red dress
Under the night sky, we kissed and twirled.

The months to follow were eternal bliss
Every single moment I wouldn't miss
You are a knight that swept me off my feet
For me, you'll launch a thousand fleets.

A year and two, time just flew.
To jump a cliff, I'll do it for you
But then I saw with my own eyes you kissing another
and finally, I knew.

Hurt and betrayed, I couldn't grasp
How my love could shatter my everything
Swollen eyes, red nose, voice so rasp
I was left empty. It hurts! It stings!

An eternity went by and still helplessly trapped
A lost soul that has met it downfall
Yearning to turn back time and stop
the one glance that started it all.
:(
Akira Chinen Jun 2017
There was a kindness
so soft and quite
in the acorn nut brown
color of her eyes
that the magic there
though silent and still
burst into fireworks
of magic and awe
beauty and splendor
and he felt that
he was under a spell
where he could tell no lies
and though he did not want
to spill the truth
he had no choice
and colors of love
were forged andlayed out
and hammered and sharpened
over the stones and water
of the wellspring of eternity
and shaped into poems
of furnace and fire
and laying helplessly
under her milky way skin
his voice cracked
and his lips trembled
and in a hushed whisperd
he confessed thathe had fallen
stars over moons
and suns sleeping in oceans
and into the beautiful madness
of finding the meaning
of life and love
as he sewed her name
within the walls of his heart
Janelle Tanguin Feb 2017
Before everything

i. I never knew four letters could melt
menthol candy-like, hydrochloric acid on my tongue
and keep burning it in different degrees
I had to swallow back.

ii. That there would come a time
I'd have to baptize the pain in my chest like seasons
robbing me lungfuls
on January, September and December nights.

iii. That my blood was really ink I needed to stop using
before my skin turned paper-like.

iv. That my heart had an epicenter pumping a magnitude of earthquakes
that made me tremble helplessly in its intensity;
and that they were man-made calamities
followed by harsh, heavy, whipping tsunamis
to flood my grave of bleeding, jagged fault lines.

v. That aftereffects lasted longer than treatment itself,
and that I didn't need any professional diagnosis to know
I was terminal
from the same drug that made butterfly-strokes in my veins,
whose arms withheld the only elixir to this malady.

vi. I named my sickness, my pain, my agony like orphaned children, after you--
a rare disease
the doctors didn't even know about yet.

vii. I did and I doubted
but a part of me beat signals
that echoed off the cave walls of my skull
that I knew.

viii. Before everything,
I have been warned
but I chose to listen to the soothing, wrong, hopeful voices
"He means no harm,".

ix. You began spreading like an epidemic-- a tumor to a colony of cells all over me-- until I became you;
a reflection of familiar suffering and mortality, slowly withering away.
In the end, I didn't even have you to blame
for letting me overdose from intakes
of my own ****, bitter medicine and unforgivable mistakes.

x. I guess, this was how you wanted the price to be paid.
He/She wakes up
Before the sun rises
With a wish
To greet
Whom he/she believes
As the closed one

"Hold on"
Said the reality
Helplessly, he/she prayed for you
“Let the peace be with you”
Always
This could be, what silence is
Genre: Observational
Theme: Reciprocation || Respecting a space, when they give their 10%, give them 20%, If they give their 100%, give your life. If they give their 0%, remember it is time to wish, stay blessed. Nothing to say.

Note, hint, how to read: If you are gentlemale, just read he, and if gentlewomen, just read she.
Lone Luna Mar 2016
Poems, you will never know when it will come to you
It will hit you right then and there
Like thunders and flashes of lightning
You got to be prepared
But you can never be prepared
It will be as if time halted and all you can ever do is stand still
As the words pour out of your mind
Helplessly you are struggling to put them back
So you can remember everything when you write them down
Poems, it is a long train of thought on a winding rail
It will be impossible to jump out of it
And you will never jump out of it
Because it's a quicksand, all you can do is sink, sink, sink
But what you will realize
Is that, after all the empty drafts and coffee mugs
You've just created something that might change the world
Then you should know it's all worth it
Luna
Ashleigh Black Jul 2014
I still feel the pains of missing you
when I sleep,
when I wake,
when I look at myself in my lonely mirror.
All I feel is that it’s helplessly my fault.
Mister J Jul 18
Heavy is a mind
That is chained to its past

Heavy is a soul
That knows no way forward

Heavy is a spirit
That keeps running around in circles

Heavy are the eyes
That never stopped shedding tears

Heavy are the ears
That remain slaves to your voice

Heavy are the hands
That knows no other feeling but you

Heavy is the heart
That is struggling to forget everything

Heavy is a person
That drags himself down
To memories that will never
Become a reality

Heavy are his dreams
If these dreams can never be
And will only be
The source of his nightmares

Heavy are the arms
That helplessly linger for yours
Constantly waiting for you
Though never to come back

No more
Please?

I've had enough
Midnight writing

Thanks for reading!

-J
The distant hollow of the high mountain pass
swallows the setting sun as it steals away southbound
behind the coastal mountain's tangerine sunset hued silhouettes
Mulberry plashed shadows pointing northward
across the evergreens outstretched dimming,
beneath the waning fade of each fleeting eventide

Sundown ebbing asunder the wafting daylight,
each gloaming of the day, helplessly a moment sooner past,
transfixed further south beyond yesterday's passing azure
The lazy days of summer escape unbounded,
nomadic as the sea I've seen sail away before;
evanescent as the beauty of the bloom summer days beheld
and the memory of the fragrance they exhale

The nebulous weight of the gravity is consciously denied
by the truths a human heart beholds
A moment’s epiphany afflicts like a rogue wave in a calm sea;
the only thing my heart ever wanted remains out of reach

Everything my heart needs consciously surrendering
to the poignant passing moment's beauty,
the falling sun at distance sets more suddenly now
Lost in the undeniable certainty
life's imminent season's change

Eyes drawn stubbornly from presence to a sky so far away,
knowing there'll be no restitution for the welling sense of loss...
A bitter sweet song mummers in the silence of the absorbing spell,
summer's sun stained pages of watermarked soul scribbles,
time tattooed reparation for the indelible ache
of a harsh grey winter loneliness

Perhaps too familiar, this whelming Déjà vu
that tears my soul;     that tugs at these roots
but cannot sever their sacred grasp
But for now, eyes fixed to the sun's
inevitable tightening tether hence —
to wear weary each fraying thread's  impending break

Each sunset leans a deeper angle southward
as it slips down through the firwood shadows;
illuminating other faraway latitudes
far beyond the distant horizon skies

The preordained continuum unfolding what will be ...


someone you used to know ... September 11, 2017 ... 7:30 PM
Dawn of Lighten Feb 2017
Dimension beginning of vile ****** exposed,
And the Emperor has no clothes,
While helplessly strut a mighty walk without a shame.

Course of history repeating itself,
Like the flow of water meeting in the river of streams,
But recycle through the clouds and back to the ground it flows.

Are we so blinded by the glimmer of the mirage of oasis in the desert,
We toast with sands of dune to quench our thirst of our plight,
And all is but a fickling light ducktaped by words of unintelligible muddled murmur?

This is truly the flawed design of our time,
When we no longer promote arts and crafts of philosophies,
And religious cults of zealots condemned the science and Academia by berating it's achievement.

Likes of ancient times of Agora and the height of it's human enlightenment,
There are forces of deconstruction of society of choas ensued by hateful fear mongers,
And systematic inward of national fevor of berserkers leveling progress.

Maybe another dark age is inevitable,
But little seed of hope I feel tangible,
And sometimes event maybe a phoenix.
Religion is all sense of purpose is a illumination of hope in human plights,
But those who seek absolute power by controlling devotees, then it is no longer a religions but a cult of designed by vanity.
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