The Poetry Thread.

[Sorin]

Okay, so here's the thread to post your poetry in.

[gmik]

Tonite Shanghai is burning...
and I am dying too.

There is no death so real, as the death inside of you.

Some go down in ashes, some go down in flames.

But most men die, INCH BY INCH,   playing silly games'



readersdigest/anonymous



How I felt before I was dragged to Him
gena

[a_child_of_God]

Sorin, your poem sounds as if it could be a song. I also liked the other poem you posted on another thread.

Ruth

[Deborah-Leigh]

Great thread Sorin!

Will look at my poetry book and will be posting soon....!

...and they who know not
   HE has not forgot

  They smile all the while
  As their souls they defile

  We thank God every day
  That for us ALL HE did pay

Arcturus

[Andy_MI]

A Word to the Elect

by Anne Bronte

You may rejoice to think yourselves secure;

You may be grateful for the gift divine -
That grace unsought, which made your black hearts pure,
And fits your earth-born souls in Heaven to shine.
But, is it sweet to look around, and view
Thousands excluded from that happiness
Which they deserve at least as much as you -
Their faults not greater, nor their virtues less?
And, wherefore should you love your God the more,
Because to you alone His smiles are given;
Because He chose to pass the many o'er,
And only bring the favoured few to Heaven?
And, wherefore should your hearts more grateful prove,
Because for ALL the Saviour did not die?
Is yours the God of justice and of love?
And are your bosoms warm with charity?
Say, does your heart expand to all mankind?
And, would you ever to your neighbour do -
The weak, the strong, the enlightened, and the blind -
As you would have your neighbour do to you?
And, when you, looking on your fellow-men,
Behold them doomed to endless misery,
How can you talk of joy and rapture then?-
May God withhold such cruel joy from me!
That none deserve eternal bliss I know;
Unmerited the grace in mercy given;
But none shall sink to everlasting woe,
That have not well deserved the wrath of Heaven.

And oh! there lives within my heart
A hope, long nursed by me;
(And should its cheering ray depart,
How dark my soul would be!)
That as in Adam all have died,
In Christ shall all men live;
And ever round His throne abide,
Eternal praise to give.
That even the wicked shall at last

Be fitted for the skies;

And when their dreadful doom is past,
To life and light arise.
I ask not how remote the day,
Nor what the sinners' woe,
Before their dross is purged away;
Enough for me, to know
That when the cup of wrath is drained,
The metal purified,
They'll cling to what they once disdained,
And live by Him that died.

[Deborah-Leigh]

That was heart wrenchingly beautiful!.....

Arcturus

[Deborah-Leigh]

Do not know who wrote the following:

THE DIVINE WEAVING

"See the mystic Weaver sitting
High in heaven - His loom below.
Up and down the treadles go.
Takes, for web, with world's dark ages,
Takes, for woof, the kings and sages.
Takes the nobles and their pages,
Takes all stations and all stages.
Thrones are bobbins in His shuttle.
Armies make them scud and scuttle-
Web into the woof must flow;
Up and down the nations go!
At the Weaver's WILL they go!

"Calmly see the mystic Weaver
Throw His shuttle to and fro;
'Mid the noise and wild confusion,
Well the Weaver seems to know
What each motion, and commotion,
What each fusion, and confusion,
In the grand result will show!

"Glorious wonder! What a weaving!
To the DULL, beyond believeing
Such no fabled ages know.
Only faith can see the mystery,
How, along the aisles of history,
Where the feet of sages go,
Loveliest to the fairest eyes,
Grand the mystic tapet lies!
Soft and smooth, and ever spreading,
As if made for angels' treading-
Tufted circles touching ever
Every figure has it plaidings,
Brighter forms and softer shadings,
Each illumined - what a riddle!
From a cross that gems the middle.

"Tis a saying -some reject it-
That its light is all reflected;
That the tapet's lines are given
By a Sun that shines in heaven!

'Tis believed-by all believing-
That great God, Himself, is weaving
Bringing out the world's dark mystery,
In the light of faith and history;
And, as web and woof diminish,
Comes the grand and glorious finish,
When begin the Golden Ages,
Long foretold by seers and sages."

Arcturus

[iris]

For God loved the world so much
that he gave his only-begotten Son,
in order that everyone exercising faith in him
might not be destroyed
but have everlasting life.
For God sent forth his Son into the world,
not for him to judge the world,
but for the world to be saved
through him.

John 3:16&17

(New World Translation)

[Deborah-Leigh]

Hello everyone.



When I was eight years old, the founder of Scientology, L Ron Hubbard moved in next door to us and soon became house friends with my parents. It was not long after and he was deported from our Country. He blamed my parents and my Father was outraged.  We had nothing to do with it. 

More than a decade latter two of my work colleagues persuaded me to enrol as a student of Scientology. Soon afterwards I decided to make a two week visit  to the Scientology Head Quarters in Tampa Florida. I wrote this poem after I returned from that trip to Florida where I  had stepped into the Devils lair. ( I have since learnt here at Bible-Truths where Satan's throne room is and I can tell you he has many lairs too...I have no doubt that many if not all of you here have come across a few yourself and carry the scars to prove it !)  I was appalled to experience a very painful shattering of my childhood illusions and trust in human nature. You may wonder what happened. I was not raped in my body, I was raped in my mind and soul, and in my faith and my trust of the Beast that appeared smiling as I was soulfully dying........

I was not to know then, that three years after writing this poem, my husband would be shot dead..... I also did not know that this, my first poem was named so very appropriately! It has been hidden, unseen and unspoken until now.

THE FIRST STEP 2.11.1983

I got crushed between the wheels of time
With no other place to draw the line.
I rambled on with great forlorn
Knowing my very soul was torn.
My feet I carried on thorny road
To find the Truth and her abode.
And more I lost as I went on
And all the time I heard the song
"Move on, move on! The riches there
  are greater than you can compare. "
So into me an evil thrust
Of the very words that draw to dust
The soul of man and every race
That thus makes hast to abase.
Seeking on in mournful song
Until what I had was all gone.

I returned again by some small chance
And to the wind I cast my glance
"Oh spiteful way that to me did say –
   'Come along with me to stray
    that you can make more rich the hay..'
So straws I picked with such intention
That I did lose hope of redemption
A game to play a heavy dice
That makes a loss every thrice.
To think to win the game to play
The third rolled dice does lose the way
And this the error in the plot
Deceptive guise that I knew not
And on such game to make my lot
While in my soul the treads do rot.

Upon this path dear soul I trod
To know the Truth of wicked plot
And all the love I could share
Was made to die in this full snare.
And even though my life I took
To dare to gaze and take a look.
And all the expense I suffered there
I don't even dare to try to care.
For though I paid a price so heavy
I won the dice on the fall of thrice.

And looking back I see the Truth.
I won not because of youth or sleuth.
But into an arena I wrestled there
To play a game I thought was fair.
And so my soul I took to bear
To seek for Truth in the Devil's lair.

So this the Truth I tell you now
You'll find it not if you don't toil
You'll glimpse her not if you don't boil.
For never will you spy her nought
And neither is she caught or bought.
Her love is greater than any man's
And rewards she doesn't hold in her hands.
She is simple and true to All and Love
And this does come from God above.


Part two 1.11.05

Wisdom is her name.
Life to her is not a game.
For it was won through great great shame
Cursed and bled and water shed
With crown of thorns upon His Head
He hung His sorrow till His life was shed.

So He could take and claim His own
You and I and His rightful throne.
Until He comes again to declare
It was Him alone who so did care
To share our burdens every where
So we could rise from the grave on that day
And on that day to truly say
He is Lord of Lords on earth above
As we exit our graves into the fullness of His great Love.
Jesus is His Name
Wisdom is His fame
And Human kind is not a game.

From earths great battle we should refrain
Till we can say Christ alone is our gain.
And return to Peace and threshold fair
To the one and only who does really care.

.........................................................

If you have read this, I want to thank you. I know it was very long. I want to say to you, tenderly and softly that I do know that this path has not been for me alone.... Many of us encounter much more heart ach, and gut wrenching mind numbing body and soul annihilating pain than I could ever describe. We have only to look at our Lord to know that we know so little of His unspeakable pain. Perhaps this is what makes my poem so small.... not short... because it is the unspoken pain, the unspeakable agony that writes the deeper language of the heart of God...and ultimately our joy in meeting that Love. For our God is Love making us into His image........



He stood and bled so to His Bride He can wed
He died and rose so we can repose
~Till He comes again
When... When...who knows!...

And in my looking my waiting grows
As His dear life lives like a rose
In souls of those He knows, He knows.

Thorns that scratch and perfume dear
Not  driving  scars made bad with fear

His Sprit true, through and through
Birthed out of pain He only knew...23 October 2006


Arcturus... .in training!

[brothertoall]

Thank you my friend for sharing that!!!!

bobby

[Deborah-Leigh]

His dazzling Peace, His endless Love

To you Bobby

[brothertoall]

Thank you Arcturus and the very same to you my friend.

I always wished I could write poetry like that.

bobby

[kennymac]

Then cometh the end" – the end of what?The end that God so long hath sought!The end He always had in view,The end that man so little knew.

The end of sin's triumphants way,The end of death – the grave's decay.The end of judgment and of ire,The second death, the lake of fire.

The end when God will ever be. With us for all eternity:The end for which His love doth call,

The end when HE is All in all!

[gmik]

    Thank you all for touching my heart!!!

[Deborah-Leigh]

Amen to that Kennymac....Amen and Amen!

[kennymac]

 Pressed out of measure and pressed to all length, Pressed so intensely it seems, beyond strength;

Pressed in the body and pressed in the soul,  Pressed in the mind till the dark surges roll.

Pressed by foes, and a pressure from friends,  Pressure on pressure, till life nearly ends. 

Pressed into knowing no helper but God;  Pressed into loving the staff and the rod.

Pressed into liberty where nothing clings;  Pressed into faith for impossible things.

Pressed into living a life in the Lord,  Pressed into living a Christ-life outpoured

[Deborah-Leigh]

WOW!.....THE GOOSE BUMPS...

.KEEP POSTING  KENNYMAC.

WHEN DID YOU WRITE THAT?...IT IS TRULY GREAT!

[kennymac]

Do you think God does not love you When you're passing 'neath the rod? Do you grow a bit discouraged; Think the road is most too hard?

Oh, my brother, do you not know That our Father has a plan By which to purge and purify And perfect this race of man?

"Think it not strange," said brother Peter, When comes the fiery trial; It may come in fierce temptations That will call forth self-denial.

It may be in deepest sorrow Sad bereavement, or in pain. Your friends may all forsake you; God will work it for your gain.

The trial of your faith, said he, Is of value more than gold. His fire is burning out the dross From His chosen and His called.

Let us stay right in the furnace Though the flames seem hard to take; God ordained their raging fury That He a perfect vessel make.

He is calling out His remnant, Seed with which to plant again; He must test and try each vessel, Those to find who will remain.

Would you like for Him to use you? Would you like to add your voice To this new day trumpet sounding? Then the fire must be your choice.

Should any dross or stain remain, Then the gold cannot be pure. It will not reflect His image And you never will endure.

Go through, as faithful Abraham, For he proved his love by test; Climbing up old Mount Moriah, On God's altar laid His best.

Think of those three Hebrew children; They loved God with all their hearts; Yet each was tested by the fire, Nor from its pain refused a part.

God saw He could count them faithful In what'er their lot might be. He wants to prove the same of you, So from His testing do not flee!


Arcturus, read your poems, touched my heart.... Keep writing!

I am no poet. I am just a collection of the people I've met, the teacher's who have taught me, and the books I have read. I came across these poems while doing a study on Revelation and The Kingdom. I enjoyed them much.

God bless,

KennyMac

[joyful1]

What is the purpose for poetry/music? Is there only one purpose? joyce

[Andy_MI]

What is the purpose for poetry/music? Is there only one purpose? joyce

Hi Joyce,

Here's some scriptures that may answer your question

Eph 5:18-21 KJVR
(18)  And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit;
(19)  Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord;
(20)  Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ;
(21)  Submitting yourselves one to another in the fear of God.

Col 3:12-17 VW
(12)  Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering;
(13)  bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also do.
(14)  And above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfectness.
(15)  And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful.
(16)  Let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.
(17)  And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God, even the Father, through Him.

Peace,

Andy