marie3

BY REASON OF LOVE
I write about life as I see it,
Most of my writings are true.
Poetry or not, who is to say,
It's by reason of love I write for you.
You may not agree with the issues,
As you walk through my mind with me.
But if you can extract some jewel of hope,
That's how I meant for it to be.

GIVE ME THIS MOUNTAIN
Lord, give me this mountain,
That I'm trying to climb.
You promised me victory,
In this life of mine.
Give me new strength,
That will strengthen my heart.
As my endurance is tested,
From daylight to dark.

TOMORROWS
Man does not know what tomorrow may bring,
Though his knowledge is pretty impressive.
He can split the atom and go into space,
Yet with the future he's only guessing.
Tomorrow could bring an answer to prayer,
Or sickness, pain or sorrow.
We can speculate, dread or dream,
But we may not have a tomorrow.
Great things the Lord has promised us,
If His commandments we will obey.
But in this life I have never found,
The promise of another day.

TEARS

Don't be ashamed to shed some tears,
Let them flow as you weep.
To God they're like beautiful diamonds,
And He bottles them up to keep.
He sees each tear and why it's shed,
It's labeled and tucked away.
Perhaps they will be the jewels in your crown,
On that great coronation day.

ROSES AND THORNS
Our lives are made up of roses and thorns,
Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we're forlorn.
Roses represent our hopes ans dreams,
While thorns make us see the reality of things.
The thorns in the roses make some gripe and mourn,
Then some praise the Lord for the rose in the thorns.
Whatever the reason, God made them a pair,
So roses and thorns are meant to be shared.

SET MY TEARS TO MUSIC

Lord, set my tears to music,
So in my sorrow I can sing.
Put strength into my feeble hands,
So to the cross I can always cling.
Don't let me walk contrary to you,
And feel your chastisment so true.
That I might flee at the shaking leaves,
And run when none pursue.

LIFE GOES ON
Human lives in mangled masses,
Still exist within our times.
Imprisoned by society's boundaries,
Never able to cross the line.
Ragged urchinscrouched and crying,
In the alleyways and streets.
The youth are seeking happiness,
From the pushers that they meet.
Mothers kneel, their faces gaunt,
Hoping God will somehow bring.
A piece of bread to still the gnawing,
Of their emptied-bellied offspring.
Life goes on lost to reason,
Violence is their way of life.
The earth absorbs the colored blood,
That is drawn by guns and knives.

ABUSED CHILDREN
Thousands of children through-out our land,
Suffer abuse at the hands of man.
It's usually the family or some close kin,
Who abuse these children again and again.
Cursings and beatings, the victims of rage,
Struggling to cope at their tender age.
Who knows what tomorrow holds for the child,
Who is branded with bad for such a long while.
They are looking at life through shades of gray,
Never really knowing what might come their way.
Can we look in their eyes and truthfully explain,
The reason for all their suffering and pain?
The hearts of these children forever scarred,
With shattered emotions that time has marred.
Violence breeds violence, their lives are so sad.
Caught between boundaries of the good and bad.
Different faces prevail, none quite the same,
Over the abyss of sorrow their lives will hang.
Silent screams go unheard over the din,
As they hopefully wait for this madness to end.

BUILDING A CROSS
He hung on the cross and freely died,
But more that once He is crucified.
From then to now He hurts anew,
By all the sinful things we do.
With drugs and guns, golgotha again,
Cursing the name of this sinless man.
Every time we push and shove.
We tear His seamless robe of love.
For every hurtful thing you say,
Another stone is flung His way.
When hungry children are not fed,
Another thorn will pierce His head.
When you mock at His commands,
You are driving nails into His hands.
When you walk in haughty pride,
You twist the spear within His side.
America is going golgotha's way,
As they crucify Jesus day after day.
They don't have time to see their loss,
They are continually building another cross.

BROKEN HEART
Somewhere in time on no special date,
The love that we had turned into hate.
The uncertainty I felt year after year,
Created in me a monster of fear.
A broken heart is a painful thing,
To the bits and pieces we desperately cling.
Where the sounds of laughter used to be,
There is only an echo of you and me.

REBEL IN THE STREET
Little runaway girl so far from home,
Angry, hostile, a rebel alone.
Where is she going, nobody knows,
Just wandering around in dirty clothes.
Cry for this rebel in the street,
She is fighting a battle of utter defeat.
Fourteen years old, headed for the slaughter,
This rebel in the street is still my daughter.
A MOTHER'S LITTLE BOY
The mother watched her little boy,
Wondering what the years would bring.
For she knew without a doubt,
That he was born to be a king.
His tunic was long and shaggy,
Knotted with a goatskin tie.
Did he know that in the future,
That he would be condemned to die?
A tree somewhere was growing tall,
Into a cross it would be made.
It was to hold this little lad,
Who in the desert sands now played.
The mother lovingly touched his head,
His laughter filled her heart with joy.
Although he was the Son of God,
He was still her little boy.
Please check back often as I will be adding
more of my poems.

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