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How long?

Sly serpent creeps, grim dragon flies
O'er all this world he strews his lies.
In souls benumbed they spread their roots.
In lives bewitched they bear death's fruits.

Mankind is blind, the walking dead,
Step stumbling hell-ward with each tread.
In pride he thinks he steers his ship,
Till fury falls and storm winds whip.

Like giddy goats, and senseless loons,
We dance to the pied piper's tune,
We beat our drums to draw the crowds,
We party under threatening clouds.

Who can escape? How will it end?
Who is the one to whom you'll bend?
Can jars so marred themselves reshape?
How long, good God, will judgment wait?

As brands from fire will we be,
Plucked out and doused in purity.
In our right minds and clothed, all new,
We'll sit with Christ, The Ever True.


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It was not so

At the start it was not so
That we did know the stone to throw,
To kill the beasts and men like us,
To think it fine to strike the blow
That spread man's blood upon the dust.

How was it that death entered in?
Cruel killing, how did it begin?
Did not the Tree of Life stand there,
In God's garden where was no sin.
In God's garden where all was fair.

Oh childish man, you swallow lies.
By inner lusts you're hypnotised.
From Father's love you've turned away.
Now broken is the trust that ties,
Broken, the day you disobeyed.

But at the start it was not so,
There where the Tree of Life did grow.
Man walked with God in peaceful groves.
God talked with man that he might know
The Father's love around him wove.

Now is this world a grim war zone,
Where everyone has thrown their stone.
But by the blood poured on the dust
The Father for us did atone
And there is peace for all who trust.

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Home is … ?
A poem in three parts

Part I

Is that our home, there where we hang our hats?
There, where we boil our eggs and stroke the cat?
Knowing each cranny of our ingle nook
We turn the pages of our well thumbed book.
Home, sweet home! yet, there is still an unease.
Cat-like it comes, our peace to paw and tease.
Close the castle door! Put the kettle on!
This is my chez-moi!, - for, how ever long?
We stand at the window, take in the view.
The cat in the room is just passing through.

Part II

By the rivers of Babylon our tears stream down,
A foreign place, strange faces, foreign sounds.
“Sing us a song from your far away land.
We hear, milk and honey there did abound.”
“Tell us your story. How came your woes?
We hear, that God's glory once was yours.”
How can we sing, so far from our home?
Only sorrows we bring, shame's dust on our feet.
Thrust from our soil with deep sorrow we moan.
With longing we weep for the place of our birth.
We keep its sweet memory. This is not home.
Our God says we will see heaven's kingdom on earth.

Part III

The traveler stopped at the side of the road
He read the sign pointing up to the hill.
'Home', said the sign. In his mind the word glowed.
Memories came back as he stood there, still.
The narrow track was well trod but not smooth.
“Probably just some hillbilly village.”
The world weary traveler pondered and mused,
“A place for the night, to break the voyage.”
There was fire and food and friendly faces.
By their talk folk seemed glad to be living.
Each day taken with its joys and stresses.
He slept well and awoke to birds singing.
On the track back he found a coloured stone.
He picked it up to remind him of Home.


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Roadrunner3

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Wow! This is deep, beautifully written and invites the reader to explore their attachments and the various meanings/images of "home". I'm just going to have to copy and paste this and read it a few more times!
 
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Martyr's Crown

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Loved the first poem! It points to this world's reality for most people, yet it reminds us of what awaits us in heaven together with God and His Son Jesus Christ!

Yet the second poem is great too!

And the third poem have a great story pictured in it. Some food for thought. :thumbsup:
 
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