"transformational" poems
Clothe yourself in the full armor of God
and be able to withstand the Devil’s schemes;
know that he’s only the father of lies,
looking to destroy your earthly dreams.
Cover yourself with Christ’s Breastplate
of Righteousness and protect your torn heart;
your essence has been purchased for His Kingdom,
meaning that you’re meant… to be set apart.
Gird your waist with the Belt of Truth
and stand firm with integrity and honesty;
don’t allow your flesh’s nature to interfere
with conditions that you need observe and see.
Shod your feet with the Gospel’s peace;
keep from searching for earthly trouble;
instead congregate with the Body of Christ
and focus on your faith becoming redoubled.
The ongoing battle is not with flesh and blood;
wield Faith’s Shield to quench life’s fiery darts.
Remember that the wiles of Satan are limited!
So outmaneuver him with your spiritual smarts.
Put on your Helmet of Salvation,
for the battles are within one’s mind.
Allow the Divine knowledge of The Word
to resonate with your spirit and find…
yourself continually praying in the spirit
and with understanding on all occasions.
Be alert to His transformational messages,
for upholding Godly principles and persuasions.
Resist the Devil now and he will flee;
endeavor to thwart the enemy’s attack;
be strong in the Lord with power of His might;
promises of victory have been already stacked.
For we don’t wage war with human methods and plans.
We use mighty weapons to knock down evil strongholds
and breakdown every proud argument that keeps people
from knowing God… as His Kingdom, continues to unfold.
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Eph 2:2, 6:10-20; 1 Thes 5:5-8; Joel 2:12-13; Rom 4:5;
Jam 4:7; 2 Cor 10:3-5
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.amazon.com/Reaching-Towards-His-Unbounded-Glory/dp/1419650513/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1388058560&sr;=1-1&keywords;=reaching+towards+his+unbounded+glory
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
If you say
the noun
Nebraska
to any
easterner
their eyes
will glaze
like doughnuts.
But if you
go there
and experience
the exquisite
loneliness
of the Niobrara,
the empty
intensity of
the Sand Hills,
the primordial cry
of the Cranes
and more stars
than you could
imagine one sky
could ever hold,
it will fill
your soul
to bursting
and you will
never again
belong wholly
to your thin
strip of coast.
~mce
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
Things I'll Never Be
So many things I'll never be,
elegant, tall and thin,
with an Englishman's confidence.
Blonde and beautiful, transformational, radiating,
possessing a Marilyn Monroe spell magical,
nope, not me.
Some things I was, I'll never be again.
Never be a sad-eyed teenager again, and for this,
in my morning prayers, I utter a blessing,
(tho my hormones have yet to be informed!)
Soul of brevity, poetically,
I'll never be, this insightful critique,
("Your poems are too long")
I've received in multiplicity, from sources internationally,
perhaps, lucky me, you've read this far?
Surely still a chance that an angel will touch my lips,
my internal parts sign a final treaty, inside an armistice,
night sweats sighs a thing fully forgot,
poetry writing can now be dispatched,
maybe that will be my Act III,
if I can stay awake for it.
Switches in my brain are shutting down this elegy,
knowing that a dozen stanzas will die stillborn,
so herein and here now, the door closes,
a parting shot escapes over the door sill.
A joy thin threads within, pumped thru my ventricles,
brook springs from sources non-DNA, holy external,
oft hid, well disguised under actor's white face makeup,
this peculiar joy, as long as it embraces me and I, it,
I'll never be unhappy any more.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
Now that the daze of drought has cleared,
And the torrent has stopped,
The cloud of harvest gathered
In the womb of the sky.
Cord of famine has broken,
Trembling under the transformational winds of coolness, making our farmland to yield bumper harvest, banishing the vessels of poverty.
Forest adorned the toga of greenness and the beasts in their loneliness, hiding under the cooler shade of trees.
Farmers regally rejoiced in the natural endowment.
Now that the rain has stopped
Let the shekere of harvest announces its arrival.
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
Three wives or at least two
But I'm one of the few
The few that believes in monogamy
So I'm sticking to my marriage with poetry
Yes, I admit to a couple of affairs with words
But that's a crime my wife can easily wave go
Like Sarah having her maid wooed
Though desecrating to her matrimonial room.
Make it rain all day
Rain poems that makes heart stay sane
Pain and bitterness interwoven into poetry
Yes sad but the joy therein comes after the read.
Let there be a deluge
So much without a place for refuge
Let the poetic flood wash away pollutants of this awesome world
Let the poetic purification begin now.
I pledge to transformational poetry
I write this insane world back into sanity
Recreating my own space
Letting my pen and mind decide the pace.
Peace out of chaos
Addicted criminal gone pious
I call that "Poetic magic"
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Originally posted one year ago
Things I'll Never Be
So many things I'll never be,
elegant, tall and thin,
with an Englishman's confidence.
Blonde and beautiful, transformational, radiating,
possessing a Marilyn Monroe spell magical,
nope, not me.
Some things I was, I'll never be again.
Never be a sad-eyed teenager again, and for this,
in my morning prayers, I utter a blessing,
(tho my hormones have yet to be informed!)
Soul of brevity, poetically,
I'll never be, this insightful critique,
("Your poems are too long")
I've received in multiplicity, from sources internationally,
perhaps, lucky me, you've read this far?
Surely still a chance that an angel will touch my lips,
my internal parts sign a final treaty, inside an armistice,
night sweats sighs a thing fully forgot,
poetry writing can now be dispatched,
maybe that will be my Act III,
if I can stay awake for it.
Switches in my brain are shutting down this elegy,
knowing that a dozen stanzas will die stillborn,
so herein and here now, the door closes,
a parting shot escapes over the door sill.
A joy thin threads within, pumped thru my ventricles,
brook springs from sources non-DNA, holy external,
oft hid, well disguised under actor's white face makeup,
this peculiar joy, as long as it embraces me and I, it,
I'll never be unhappy any more.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
though thine wife gladly
(and long time ago)
verily swept passed
her final child bearing year
this house broken husband
genuinely hankers to father
(yes sire re:to set sea men
"NOT FAKE," nor NONGMO
free and reduced)
and longingly participate
in parenthood again
donning baby proof couture wear
analogous (as aye imagine dragons
fire breathing worth tolerating),
those who fervently veer
yearning to undergo
*** reassignment surgery (SRS)
with unintentional surgeon's delicate tear
aye thru thoroughly anesthetized flesh,
(especially genitals under going
transformational substantial removal
via said - bravely bite ting the bullet -
sharp pinching shear)
contemplating, formulating, issuing
personal specifications to cutting crew
validating, testifying recapping re: questing
genitals do not reappear
since significant surgery purport, some hetero
****** person might **** sitter queer
yet no doubt a homosexual
and/or lesbian would ap pear
to understand completely if *****
didst unwittingly accidentally overhear
confidential conversation,
yet warmly reassured the speaker,
they did not intend to get near
enough to glean enough information
that said transexual could reduce wardrobe
with women and/or menswear
and this once distraught,
distressed, and distributed
without willingness unfairly
fated to live stemmed,
undoubtedly wrought from ****** misalignment,
would post surgery
hover off the ground and modestly
swagger off into the sunset
(this scenario projection strictly of mine)
anyway ***** could map out in one direction
destiny describing,
an upswinging trajectory linear
once future freed where gender now nsync
with physical gonadal accouterment
unconcerned if urge arises
to swivel derriere with flare.
-------------------------------------
matthew scott
highland manor apartments
schwenksville, pennsylvania
19473
USA
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
There is a time;
When All,
FallS...
A time when;
our true character-
.....
What we say we are -
Who we think we are -
Who we want to be -
What we want to do -
.....
Is tested.
The time,
When the chills.
The darkness...
Keeps us inside.
And it’s the greatest - the worst - the scariest - it can be a transformational period.
And it’s a time where loneliness wanders...
The superficiality of the summer is all but vanished.
As the daylight dims....
The time,
When
death seems
..Closer...
Than before.
The time,
When
My heart
..feels lost..
More than before
The time,
When...
When............
the last leaf falls.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC
I am a son,
Like the sun
Wired to bring illumination
To this nation.
To many lives I give light,
Challenging folks to live right
Inspiring them in this life to make hay
In other to have a say.
I am gifted
Not born to be limited.
I trump limits
And climb to success summits.
You are wired for greatness
Break out from shallowness
For you have what it takes
To kick out the fakes
And be among the greats.
Life is colorful
When we do things powerful;
Let us arise and grow
To make our dreams reality and glow.
© Ifeanyi Enoch Onuoha is a transformational leader and writer who uses his time, talent and treasure to uproot vices and root values in the society.
Oct 28, 2020
Oct 28, 2020 at 6:06 PM UTC
Base.
Base
reality.
Dive
deep.
Deep
into
existence,
being.
Beneath
matter.
Fields
of energy.
Undulating
fields of
energy.
Transformational.
Undergirding
all.
Possibility,
probability.
Bubbling
up.
Matter
convergence.
Realm of
creation.
All is
possible.
Inevitable.
Anything
that can.
Will!
Mathematical
certainly.
Simply
a matter
of time.
Jun 29, 2023
Jun 29, 2023 at 9:39 AM UTC