Poetry?

[Jon_]

I rest my case. I can picture this:

Jon is now an old man with ten daughters. He hobbles out to the mailbox, leaning heavily on his cane. Opening the mailbox carefully, he pulls out the contents therein. Oh my! What is this? A letter? To his daughter? With a MAN'S NAME ON THE OUTSIDE?!?!?!? Oh no! Forgetting about his decrepid back, Jon throws his cane down, rips the letter open, and finds inside. . .mushy love poetry! Jon is startled past all startling. He pulls open his garage door, hops onto his Harley, and rushes away to the address given on the envelope. He arrives. He throws the cycle into park. Dashing up to the front door (yes, he did forget his cane), he pounds on the door with a pound that defies ignoring. Creak. The door opens slowly and a skinny young man pokes his head out the door. One look into Jon's face and he starts to slam the door shut with a scared look on his face. "Wait a minute, young man," Jon bellows. "Did you write this spastic love poetry to MY DAUGHTER?" "UM, yes," the boy replies, "I did." He is shaking from head to toe. Jon looks at the young man with wonder in his eyes and exclaims, "Wow! It's really great stuff! In fact, its so good, that I'll even let you court my daughter if you teach me how to write stuff like this!"

That's brutal. You have no idea how much that hurts. I'm going to go write in my journal...



Soli Deo Gloria

Jon

 

[Erinwilcox]

Sorry Jon, I couldn't resist. Sometimes it's too much to pass up a good joke, "A merry heart doth make good medicine." Hope that it made your heart merry-it did mine!

 

[StAnselm]

Well, since some people are taking the opportunity to post poems others wrote, I thought I'd give you one of my favourites:

THE DONKEY
by G.K. Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

 

[edie19]

I rest my case. I can picture this:

Jon is now an old man with ten daughters. He hobbles out to the mailbox, leaning heavily on his cane. Opening the mailbox carefully, he pulls out the contents therein. Oh my! What is this? A letter? To his daughter? With a MAN'S NAME ON THE OUTSIDE?!?!?!? Oh no! Forgetting about his decrepid back, Jon throws his cane down, rips the letter open, and finds inside. . .mushy love poetry! Jon is startled past all startling. He pulls open his garage door, hops onto his Harley, and rushes away to the address given on the envelope. He arrives. He throws the cycle into park. Dashing up to the front door (yes, he did forget his cane), he pounds on the door with a pound that defies ignoring. Creak. The door opens slowly and a skinny young man pokes his head out the door. One look into Jon's face and he starts to slam the door shut with a scared look on his face. "Wait a minute, young man," Jon bellows. "Did you write this spastic love poetry to MY DAUGHTER?" "UM, yes," the boy replies, "I did." He is shaking from head to toe. Jon looks at the young man with wonder in his eyes and exclaims, "Wow! It's really great stuff! In fact, its so good, that I'll even let you court my daughter if you teach me how to write stuff like this!"

Erin - you put a visual picture in my head that I'll be carrying around and smiling over all day. Thanks. Tried to give you some rep - but once again, I need to spread it around first (that is such a stupid rule).

edie

 

[edie19]

Here's my favorite poem (OK - it isn't reformed, but oh well)

I never saw a purple cow
I never hope to see one.
But this I tell you anyhow
I'd rather see than be one.

 

[edie19]

seriously - here's a really nice one (don't know the author). Not sure where he found it, but our music leader got his hands on this, put it to music and we'll be singing it soon during our Lord's Day services.
[font=&quot]
"I AM DEBTOR."[/font] [font=&quot]
When this passing world is done,[/font] [font=&quot]
When has sunk yon glaring sun,[/font]
[font=&quot]When we stand with Christ in glory,[/font]
[font=&quot]Looking o'er life's finished story,[/font] [font=&quot]
Then, Lord, shall I fully know -[/font] [font=&quot]
Not till then - how much I owe.

[/font][font=&quot]When I hear the wicked call[/font] [font=&quot]
On the rocks and hills to fall,[/font] [font=&quot]
When I see them start and shrink[/font] [font=&quot]
On the fiery deluge brink, -[/font] [font=&quot]
Then, Lord, shall I fully know -[/font] [font=&quot]
Not till then - how much I owe.[/font] [font=&quot]

When I stand before the throne,[/font]
[font=&quot]Dressed in beauty not my own,[/font] [font=&quot]
When I see thee as thou art,[/font] [font=&quot]
Love thee with unsinning heart,[/font] [font=&quot]
Then, Lord, shall I fully know -[/font] [font=&quot]
Not till then - how much I owe.[/font] [font=&quot]

When the praise of heav'n I hear,[/font]
[font=&quot]Loud as thunder to the ear,[/font]
[font=&quot]Loud as many water's noise,[/font] [font=&quot]
Sweet as harp's melodious voice,[/font] [font=&quot]
Then, Lord, shall I fully know -[/font] [font=&quot]
Not till then - how much I owe.

[/font][font=&quot]Even on earth, as through a glass[/font] [font=&quot]
Darkly, let Thy glory pass,[/font] [font=&quot]
Make forgiveness feel so sweet,[/font]
[font=&quot]Make Thy Spirit's help so meet,[/font]
[font=&quot]Even on earth, Lord, make me know[/font] [font=&quot]
Something of how much I owe.[/font]

[font=&quot]Chosen not for good in me,[/font] [font=&quot]
Wakened up from wrath to flee,[/font] [font=&quot]
Hidden in the Saviour's side,[/font] [font=&quot]
By the Spirit sanctified,[/font] [font=&quot]
Teach me, Lord, on earth to show,[/font] [font=&quot]
By my love, how much I owe.[/font] [font=&quot]

Oft I walk beneath the cloud,[/font] [font=&quot]
Dark, as [/font][font=&quot]midnight[/font][font=&quot]'s gloomy shroud;[/font] [font=&quot]
But, when fear is at the height,[/font] [font=&quot]
Jesus comes, and all is light;[/font] [font=&quot]
Blessed Jesus! bid me show[/font] [font=&quot]
Doubting saints how much I owe.[/font] [font=&quot]

When in flowery paths I tread,[/font] [font=&quot]
Oft by sin I'm captive led;[/font] [font=&quot]
Oft I fall - but still arise -[/font] [font=&quot]
The Spirit comes - the tempter flies;[/font] [font=&quot]
Blessed Spirit! bid me show[/font] [font=&quot]
Weary sinners all I owe.[/font] [font=&quot]

Oft the nights of sorrow reign -[/font]
[font=&quot]Weeping, sickness, sighing, pain;[/font] [font=&quot]
But a night Thine anger burns -[/font] [font=&quot]
Morning comes and joy returns;[/font] [font=&quot]
God of comforts! bid me show[/font] [font=&quot]
To Thy poor, how much I owe.[/font]

 

[Erinwilcox]

Well, since some people are taking the opportunity to post poems others wrote, I thought I'd give you one of my favourites:

THE DONKEY
by G.K. Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

I remember reading this in Lit. class. I really enjoyed it! Thanks for posting.
I loved you poem too, edie!

 

[StAnselm]

seriously - here's a really nice one (don't know the author).

It was Robert Murray M'Cheyne - one of the greatest Presbyterians of them all. He died at age 29, you know.

I sing it to the tune of "Petra" myself. Needless to say, I've never seen the second verse in a hymn-book.

M'Cheyne also wrote a poem concerning the phrase Jehovah Tsidkenu - "The LORD our Righteousness"...

I once was a stranger to grace and to God,
I knew not my danger, and felt not my load;
Though friends spoke in rapture of Christ on the tree,
Jehovah Tsidkenu was nothing to me.

I oft read with pleasure, to sooth or engage,
Isaiah’s wild measure and John’s simple page;
But e’en when they pictured the blood sprinkled tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu seemed nothing to me.

Like tears from the daughters of Zion that roll,
I wept when the waters went over His soul;
Yet thought not that my sins had nailed to the tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu—’twas nothing to me.

When free grace awoke me, by light from on high,
Then legal fears shook me, I trembled to die;
No refuge, no safety in self could I see—
Jehovah Tsidkenu my Saviour must be.

My terrors all vanished before the sweet name;
My guilty fears banished, with boldness I came
To drink at the fountain, life giving and free—
Jehovah Tsidkenu is all things to me.

Jehovah Tsidkenu! my treasure and boast,
Jehovah Tsidkenu! I ne’er can be lost;
In thee I shall conquer by flood and by field,
My cable, my anchor, my breast-plate and shield!

Even treading the valley, the shadow of death,
This “watchword” shall rally my faltering breath;
For while from life’s fever my God sets me free,
Jehovah Tsidkenu, my death song shall be.

 

[Erinwilcox]

That really brought tears to my eyes. How true it is!

 

[edie19]

It was Robert Murray M'Cheyne - one of the greatest Presbyterians of them all.
no wonder I like him

M'Cheyne also wrote a poem concerning the phrase Jehovah Tsidkenu - "The LORD our Righteousness"...

absolutely beautiful - after reading it the first thing I did was send it to my church's music leader - who knows what he could do with it.