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MineI am His craft, I took my form
Beneath His skillful hand,
And though I walk through flame and storm
He helps me understand:
"In darkness you will see me shine,
In anxious doubt I send my sign
For you are mine,
For you are mine,
Redeemed to show my grand design."
But I am weak and impotent,
And much I do not know.
Besides His grace, all heaven-sent,
I would not overflow
Above the waters dark and deep
That tempt me towards my mortal sleep.
O, they will sweep,
O, they will sweep,
But God is here my soul to keep.
So dwell no longer on the past,
In distant memory,
But look to him who breathed his last
And gave His life for me.
In deserts dry he lays a road
To drink the sky-sent word that snowed
And melting flowed
And melting flowed
To drench me in this love He showed.
Beach DayIn undulating waves that pound the shore—
Their frothy tides embracing higher waters blue—
I saw my joy, and sat down to adore
The one this heart would daily choose to wander to.
No distance quite too far, no background din
Too raucous that I cannot stay and ponder
All the currents stirred I'm swimming in
Inside my heart, a longing still for more,
And wanderlust for oceans to explore.
Wax and WaneOh! wide-eyed wonder high up in the sky,
My only link transcending time and space,
How many separations have gone by
Before the searing coldness of your gaze?
And always in the fullest of your phase,
When many separations must go by,
'Tis then you choose to show your pallid face
And wide-eyed, sunder sighs up to the sky.
And yet you bear no ill-will, though I try
To pin my loneliness within your place.
For when I have my love within my hold,
You wrap the night around you in its folds
And from our private union hide your face
(Oh! Wide-eyed wonder!) from sighs up to the sky.
No FallowIf fruitful labor has but one sad fate,
'tis that my mind cannot in fallow lie.
My wearied hands do not procrastinate,
I promise you, but as I sit and try
To summon up the simplest of a noun,
I'm flummoxed, flustered, full of bluster.
Fertility demands that life lay down
And give until there's none to muster:
O! what a cruel device, this sacrifice!
The StruggleThough once I said it was adversity
That birthed the most imaginative verse,
In darkness lies no creativity,
Despair itself destroys and gives no birth.
It murders, leaving no recourse for mercy,
Swallowing up the brightest minds, its maw
Insatiable except for vilest cursing
Of self-inflicted wounds all rubbed and raw.
But when the light inside me flickers fire
And cuts through darkness with its needle rays,
The smallest candlelight might then inspire
Poetic justice for defeated days.
In light alone do shadows find their shape,
The struggle from which poems find escape.
WoundsThe time when verses flow most freely from my mind
Is not when life has altogether been too kind:
The echoed strains of joy, what words could catch and capture
The speechlessness of laughter, hearts abrim with rapture?
It's hopelessness and sorrow baring wounds through words,
A crust of scabbed emotions daring to be heard;
It itches mightily, and though you want to rip
Apart the hurt and all reminders in one strip,
It stings to know there is no bottom but an ooze,
This awful spring of inspiration, pain-infused.
But give it time to heal, protect it from all harm,
And off it comes. The skin beneath is new and warm
And paler than before, but solid in its form.
Memory #4: The CostIn my sophomore year, we would have prayer meetings every Wednesday afternoon. I would say that weekly meetups and prayer meetings were the times I learned the most that year. On one level, I learned about prayer itself, and how many different ways you could pray. You could pray through the Word (praying through a psalm was a particular favorite of mine), you could pray in one voice with each other, you could simply praise and adore God, or thank him. Along with my meetups I learned more about confessing in prayer as well. On another level, I learned a lot about the many different things we could intercede for. We would pray for our campus, our ministry, our missionaries, and most importantly, our people and the various facets of their lives. It felt that every prayer meeting was learning a new thing about prayer.
But even more than these substantial lessons, I learned a lot from the older people who led the prayers. Seeing their example as prayerful men and women left a deep impressio
UnspokenUntil the day appointed when I stand
And tell you all the hope you fill in me,
I'll tell you naught of what I understand
Within my heart, unseized by urgency.
For in the promise now I see no need
To haste the swelling feeling deep inside
Nor give up hope: to pray and not to plead,
To slowly bridge this shortening divide.
But we are closer than I could have thought,
And in the light of such proximity
The sentiment our interactions wrought
Are all too easy for your eyes to see.
For now, let this reward you for your wait:
The tenderness my actions indicate.
SignatureMemories of yours
Objects in my room
You sold me gloom
And all the lights.
Are you a fool
Or a blind mind?
Believing my lies
Soon you will die.
I have the rights
Of all your stupid life
Any kind of will
You read the chain
Embracing your neck
You signed it anyway
I am so lucky
I own a soul
I’m lord of its world
My wealth grows.
There’s no escape
My hopeless pet
Be my slave
And try to obey.
RustyMy heart is of rich, bright copper old
And in it contained love and happiness
It's not my smile or eyes that are bold
But the joyous soul shines its goodness
And then I met him, a mysterious guy
Of high status, an aristocrat if you will
He's charming, majestic like the sky
His grey eyes always gave my spine a chill
I don't know what lured me into him
Perhaps it was the danger that he emits
Little did I know he was nothing but grim
And he sucked out my life when we kiss
Heart and soul turned cold, a hard metal shell
I couldn't repair it no matter what I tried to do
The love was replaced with something from hell
Anger, sadness, misanthropy only grew and grew
My tears, like rain, touches my metal heart- now red
It's rusting away, until one day I must dispose of it
It is no longer beautiful, no longer pure, just dead
I'm broken and tainted with vileness of an evil spirit
Like a rusted robot, I need someone to fix me, a repair
Please clean me and help me rid of the painful memories
first kissThere is no equality in love
Who willingly wears the tightest glove
All must give what few can take
Brave heart dares bend far past its break
No casual chance not to be bored
Give to get true risk reward
No one can win this dangerous game
We all play still the same
While at the door pause reminisce
Only to remember that first kiss
Take these drugs and feel the fun,
smile once and then you’re done.
Click our ad and try your luck,
elation-fit, and then you’re stuck.
For just another little dime
be happy, happy, all the time.
Melancholy’s for the saps,
put your boredom in our traps.
Once you need a stronger fix,
Give us money, get your kicks.
Hear our pitch, ignore the slime,
be happy, happy, all the time.
Real worlds do not exist,
lance that sadness like a cyst,
Make your own world, make it true,
Use our rules, made just for you.
Where sadness is the biggest crime,
be happy, happy all the time.
Hope's Triumph I
Days Long Lost,
Bear the heaviest cost
To the heart's burden fixed
On memories' own Halcyon times.
Be it that Fate,
She for future hope nixed,
Hounds us still of unpaid crimes
Of which we serve, never consummate
Of the penance sentenced to each his due,
Paid in the brew of humility and rue.
Before the Fall,
Of his world, his grasp held it all.
But as sand slips through the fingers' crack,
Same had his all been dissipated.
His vanity disintegrated,
All his stewardship's domain.
Nothing remains save the mockery of lack.
Hope spirits on wings slow and broken,
Sped on the flight whose end unspoken,
Its receiver is ignorant of the imminent aid,
Dodges the enemy's swiping blade.
Before them, the path blearied,
Under their feet wearied,
As their tempests loom above never allaying.
A bell rattles within their ribcages
The knell the desperate resound,
When peace is nowhere to be found.
Hope's course tarries,
Its lagging herald carries
Melody"Be proud of yourself",
the words rise and fall.
"Look at what you have accomplished!",
They hit against the wall.
"Be proud of who you are".
They sing to me and to all.
Hear the song,
and the reason to be alive.
To think it's warmth,
To think it's touch,
would leave me in cold,
and forever behind,
was far from my mind.
The melody brought me down,
taking my hands in it's chains,
never allowing me to reach and rise,
in the light of the sunrise.
rustythey called me little iron-heart,
because i "only cared about myself."
if only they knew the memories,
that were rusting away on my shelves.
the feelings came along with the pain,
and back to the memories to start.
everything in my life led up,
to my gray, little, locked up broken-heart.
i didn't care about anyone,
because i was unable to care anymore.
i thought i wore my heart on my sleeve,
i thought my sadness was apparent, for sure.
but maybe they just couldn't see past me,
and see that my heart was a little dusty.
so that's me, "iron-heart", the big fat jerk.
well i'm sorry if my social skills are rusty.
That (Feeling)I think I'm different from you all
a little detached that's for sure,
I'm not so certain how it started
maybe the time I felt broken hearted,
or even the time after that
either way this feeling wont detach
itself from me.
Sharper than a branch of holly
with a dimmed mind melancholy,
the outside is colourful to me
but inside shades of grey I bleed,
frankly I've had enough of that
but still this feeling wont detach
itself from me.
A broken mind repaired a heart
yet no heat can fix a mind so scarred,
I've tried at least a couple of times
since the first and second time,
now I've lost interest in that
and yet this feeling wont detach
and let me be...
It's keeping me from being me.
By Mark Francis Williams - 19/09/2014
Take A PenWake up son
The time has come
They want to remove
Our free will.
With large tanks
And atom hearts
To spread fear.
Fully loaded guns
Millions of armories
Enough to start
A third world war.
We will not be
Slaves of the queen
The human race
Has to be free.
You must fight
For your rights
In these days
Fight to survive.
We will win
We will defeat
The WaifThe child passed by my seat with empty palms
And begged for love to fill its soulful eyes.
For 'twas not hunger nor the need for alms
That left the waif so piteous in guise.
She had her home, if four walls and a roof
Was all the meaning she should yet require;
But in that place all hearts remained aloof,
A negligence deserving of all ire.
She stood in place; I stood and turned my face.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More