Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category

Over the years I have written songs with lyricist Tom White, who is also my longtime friend and brother in Christ. Even though we are now miles apart we still collaborate on songs through the internet. He recently sent me lyrics to use in a song. I will be working on the music in the coming days, but the words are so intensely descriptive that I couldn’t wait to share them with you.

These Hands by Tom White

They reached down to pick her up, dry her tears then tenderly lifted her off the ground/They brushed off her clothes so gently and then lovingly placed her on the Merry go round/They offer her some ice cream or some candy, a vile threat presented as a special treat/ Warning her that if she shares this secret with anyone she’ll get hurt and end up alone on the street

And those hands—hands that are meant to protect are used to abuse, to injure, and neglect/And those hands—hands that are meant to defend/They rush to crush life to bring about its end/Who will protect the innocent? Who will raise their voice for the silent one? Who will, without fail, shine a light to expose the unspeakable things in shadows done?

Forty five minutes off the bus she finds the streets are cruel/She ran from the prison called home to find more of the same/Her body becomes a token used over and over again by men and women too many to name/She cries out to God for mercy, hoping against hope Where the thought of escape becomes a nightly dream/But each day she’s bought and sold like a piece of meat/And all she can do is silently scream

And those hands—hands that are meant to protect/Are used to abuse, to injure, and neglect/And those hands—hands that are meant to defend/They rush to crush life to bring about its end/Who will protect the innocent? Who will raise their voice for the silent one? Who will, without fail, shine a light to expose the unspeakable things in shadows done?

Your life goes on while children are defiled/The sex traffic lights are all blinking green/If you ignore it soon enough it should go away/Then the problem will be unheard, unknown and unseen/But Christ hears the cries of the least of these/And calls us to be his voice, his hands and feet/To live outside the stained glass windows/So that we, like him, can hear the cries from the street

So that hands—our hands, can truly protect/We can lift up and encourage and deflect/Yes those hands—your hands, can defend/ Like a shepherd, like a brother, like a friend/Protecting the innocent starts with you/Raise your voice and speak up for the silent one/Shine a light so bright that it will expose/The unspeakable things in shadows done

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“It’s time.”
“I know. I just wanted to spend a few more minutes to take in the beauty of this place.”
“You’ll find beauty there too.”
“What will the people be like there?”
“Frightened and confused. Many are superstitious and have been taken advantage of by false teachers. That’s why they need you to show them the truth.”
“But will they accept what I tell them?”
“Some will be drawn to your love and your wisdom.”
“But not all?”
“No. Some will want to drive you away…Even kill you.”
“Is there no other way?”
“No. You’re their only hope now.”
“I’m really going to miss this place.”
“This will always be your home, but you’re needed more there now.”

 

And she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. Eight days later, when the baby was circumcised, he was named Jesus, the name given to him by the angel even before he was conceived.

Winter

Posted: January 24, 2013 in Poems
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Naked trees and smoking chimneys

Line the cold gray skyline

Inspecting the frozen ground through my kitchen window

Small animals have left tracks on my snow covered lawn

Evidence of life in an otherwise dead world

 

Suddenly a thin ray of sunlight tears a small hole in the gray

Like the precision of a surgeon’s knife

A simple acknowledgment from God

That there is more to life than what I see

I live by faith and not by sight

 

This too will pass

And I look forward to Spring.

God created you amazingly unique and special. That’s why there is no one in this entire universe who is exactly like you.

No one else:

Thinks the way you think; Feels the way you feel; Loves the way you Love; Smiles the way you smile; Laughs the way you laugh; Hurts the way you hurt, or cries the way you cry.

From the hair on your head to your very unique toenails, God created you to be one of a kind; just like every sparkling snowflake. And there is no one else like you. Never was, and never ever will be.

God created you beautiful, inside out. You are God’s unique treasure. That’s how special you are. That’s how much you are loved and cherished by God.

And God wants you to experience the light of His love and grace and share it with others; His light that is more glorious and brighter than thousands of suns.

And if you are not there to shine God’s light who knows how many travelers in this journey will miss God’s love and light as they pass by you in the darkness.

So please, let God’s light of love and grace shine through you so others will see it and come out of the darkness and into God’s marvelous light.

Then they too, will awaken to the truth and realize how unique and special they really are.

Adapted from a  poem by ~ Kiran Shaikh

The Little Lifesaving Station Originally written by Howard Clinebell

On a dangerous seacoast where shipwrecks often occurred, there was once a crude lifesaving station. The building wasn’t much more than a small hut, and there was only one boat. But the few devoted members kept a constant watch over the sea, and with no thought of themselves, went out night and day tirelessly searching for the lost.

Many lives were saved by this wonderful little station. So much so that it became famous for its rescue efforts. Some of those who were saved and various others in the surrounding area wanted to become associated with the station and give of their time and money for the support of its work. New boats were purchased and donated to the station and crews were trained to improve the rescue operations of the station.

As the little lifesaving station grew some of the members were unhappy that the building itself was so crude and poorly equipped. They felt that a more comfortable place should be provided for those who were rescued from the sea. So the members raised funds for the station and replaced the emergency cots with beds and placed better furniture in an enlarged building.

Soon the lifesaving station became a popular gathering place for its members. They decorated it beautifully and furnished it so exquisitely that it became sort of a club. The lifesaving station’s logo still prevailed on the wall above the fireplace and its name was still used to raise funds,  but  fewer members were now interested in going out to sea on lifesaving missions. They even hired lifeboat crews to do the work that they used to do themselves.

About this time a large ship was wrecked off the coast and the hired crews brought in boatloads of cold, wet, and half drowned people. These people were dirty and sick. And some of them were foreigners who couldn’t speak English. The beautiful club was thrown into chaos. The property committee immediately had a shower built outside the club building with an attached closet filled with clean clothes so that the victims of shipwrecks could be cleaned up and dressed properly before coming inside.

At the next club meeting there was a split in the membership. Most of the members wanted to stop the club’s lifesaving activities because it was unpleasant and a hindrance to the normal social structure of the club. Some members insisted that the lifesaving operations were the primary reason for them being there and pointed out that they were still called a lifesaving station. The latter were finally voted down and were told that if they wanted to save the lives of all the various kinds of people who were shipwrecked in those waters they could start their own lifesaving station further down the coast. That’s exactly what they did.

As the years went by, the new station experienced the same changes that had occurred in the old one. It evolved into a club and later another lifesaving station was founded.

History continues to repeat itself and if you visit that seacoast today you will find a number of exclusive clubs along its shores.  Shipwrecks are frequent in those waters, but sadly, most of the people there drown.

Below is a poem that was contributed by a good friend of mine.

Where Will They Sleep Tonight? by Tom White

She keeps to herself during the day
As each day seems to be the same.
A forgotten person in a crowded place
without a bed without a name

She gives what it takes to get by,
And takes what is given by strangers.
She lives without the comforts we take for granted
And survives each days dangers

But where will she sleep tonight?
While you’re at home behind locked doors.
Hidden away from the wet and the cold
She is under a bridge or on a bench
Growing only lonely and old

He spends his days at the crossroad.
Trying to get people to just be good
A vet down on his luck in life
Holding a sign: “will work for food.”
He doesn’t want to be here
His hunger forced him to the street
He tries and cries at his place in life
And wonders and ponders the day at his feet
And where will he sleep tonight?
In the heat with the threats that come
In the darkness where no one cares what happens to him when the day is done.

So what will be your excuse, your well intentioned reason why
That you will give when called to task
As to why you just passed on by.
And forgot the anthem that rings thru the years
And still carries on a holy breeze
The Son of Man with His eyes aflame
Saying as you’ve done to the least of these….
And tell me where will they sleep tonight?
If you turn your back on the homeless crew
Where will they live tomorrow?
If you don’t show a love that’s true.
You can turn a deaf ear to the call they give
But except for the grace of God
There goes you.
You can give up on a holy charge
And surrender in this Godly fight
But tell me if the chosen won’t help the homeless
Where will they sleep tonight?