Category: poetry

Light – A Poem of Truth

Pr. Lowe is having a little computer trouble, so I’m helping out and shining a little light into his world and yours today.

Light

The Light of life
Piercing the darkness
Illuminating truth
Clearing away strife

The Light of the world
Displacing hopelessness
Radiating pure grace
His majesty unfurled

The one true Light
Savior of the lost
Shining in the darkness
To the blind giving sight

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12 (NIV).

Mongrel Poetry

A mongrelized poet.

I have been inspired (perhaps foolishly) by others who have stepped up and shared poems they have written.  They are great!

Shortly after being diagnosed as mentally ill, I started to write (or scawl) verses.  I could never get the rhyme down, but I did start to grasp the imagery.  I filled up a “composition book.”  I sincerely hope you will look kindly on these “mongrelized verses,” not judging too harshly.

*****

Spring

Young grass, a ferocious green that an artist could hardly grasp, dewy freshness and I resist a severe temptation to shed my shoes and walk into a place where I absorb a spring life into my being.

**********

Manic

Encountering a revved up edition of myself, I’m always moving in sky.  Just like superman or a jaded circus performer shot out of his cannon.  Gravity simply has lost its grip on me.  I am a law breaker of the worst sort as I flit and flash about in this blue limen that I now rule.

*********

Wife

She captured me with her 5000 kilowatt smile big enough and bright enough to blaze my black and white world with just her glance.  Her laugh takes me apart and I discover I have been completely dismantled.  (After all, I have just beheld the eighth wonder of the world.)  With feminine technicolor and an infrared awareness she sweeps me up into this place and my ears pop with a fresh sense of grace given to me.

***********

Ungrace Me

Ungrace me and then stand back as I implode, a million pieces of waste and ruin. All with a 20/200 vision of a heart that has suddenly lost its way into the hateful darkness.  It is at this that an epiphany pushes on me– Jesus, with pierced hands He draws me home.

ybic, Bryan

Coming Home

Returning Home:

“Then the men who were designated by name rose up and took the captives, and from the spoil they clothed all who were naked among them, dressed them and gave them sandals, gave them food and drink, and anointed them; and they let all the feeble ones ride on donkeys.  So they brought them to their brethren at Jericho, the city of palm trees.  Then they returned to Samaria.” 

2 Chronicles 28:15

I once was held captive by sin, ransacked and naked, starving and bereft of hope.

Lord, thank You for saving me, restoring me and returning me to the place I belong . . with You.  And here’s a simple poem . . .

Brought Back                                       

Love clothes me
and feeds me
and fills up
my flaws.
Love anoints me
and establishes me
in the presence
of all.

………..

See Deb’s blog at http://iftodaywehear.wordpress.com/

Making a Trade

“How poor was Jacob’s motion, and how strange 

His offer! How unequal was th’ exchange!

A mess of porridge for an inheritance?

Why could not hungry Esau strive t’ enhance

His price a little? So much underfoot?

Well might he give him bread and drink to boot:

An easy price! The case is even our own;

For toys we often sell our Heaven, our Crown.”

Francis Quarles, (May 1592 – September 1644)

Reading this dusty old poem isn’t really my favorite thing to do. Contrary to public opinion, I don’t walk around the house quoting Shakespeare or even Milton. (Just so you know, right now I’m listening to baseball on the radio and thinking about a hotdog, with onion and mustard.)

But this brief poem (the best kind!) really resonated in me. I sensed the Holy Spirit focus me on the words, and deliver to me something special. I would like to think that this is going to happen to you as well. But that is not a certainty.

Quarles’ poem sketches out the story in Genesis 25, of Jacob and Esau. For many years I have been moderately perplexed by Esau’s actions and Jacob’s conniving. Esau seems stupid, and Jacob manipulates him.

“Look, I’m dying of starvation!” said Esau. “What good is my birthright to me now?”

 “But Jacob said, “First you must swear that your birthright is mine.” So Esau swore an oath, thereby selling all his rights as the firstborn to his brother, Jacob.”

“Then Jacob gave Esau some bread and lentil stew. Esau ate the meal, then got up and left. He showed contempt for his rights as the firstborn.”

Genesis 25:32-34, NLT

The issue seems to be that I am very much like Esau. And I also seem to have the manipulative style of Jacob. I can trade off my “inheritance” as quick as anyone alive. Depending upon my mercurial moods, I will trade my supernatural peace and hope for swill. And I can do this without a second thought.

Quarles poem ends with this,

“An easy price! The case is even our own;

For toys we often sell our Heaven, our Crown.”

Toys, trinkets, trifles. I trade away the things are most precious for “swill.” But I am hoping that my heart will change, and I will stop trading off what is eternal.

ybic, Bryan

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