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Miscellaneous Poetry 2

Poetry of Janet Hoye

My Everything My Thanks
You are my Everything, My Lord, my God, my King!
With lifted hands I sing and praise Your Name;
You are my heart's desire, You set my life on fire,
You are my Everything, my Risen King!

Your cleansing blood does flow and washes white as snow,
You changed my heart O Lord, and set me free;
And when I call Your Name, Your help and strength I claim,
You are my Everything, my Risen King!

I want You now to know how much I love you so,
Your grace and love for me, are my victory,
And when this life is past, You call my name at last,
Your faithfulness O Lord, beckons to me.

You are my strength, my shield - to You my life I yield,
My heart desires to see You face to face;
And when I'm by Your side, this one thing I can't hide,
You are my Everything, my Living King!

How can I ever thank You, My Lord,
For what You've done for me?
You saved my soul, You made me whole
When You died on Calvary!

How can I ever praise You enough,
For Your love, Your mercy, Your grace?
You came down from above, shedding God's Love
When You met man, face to face!

How can I ever tell You, my Lord,
Just what You mean to me?
You've blessed me so, I want You to know
When You came and set me free!


Poetry of Floyd Denny

The Sounds of Heaven!
HAVE YOU EVER TAKEN THE TIME TO STOP AND LISTEN TO THE SOUNDS OF HEAVEN?

IT'S A SIMPLE THING TO DO OFTEN PASSED BY MANY NEVER TAKING THE TIME TO ENJOY ONE OF GOD'S GREATEST GIFTS

IT'S A MELODY TO EASE THE BURDENS OF THE HEART BROUGHT ON BY LIFE'S TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS!

A GIFT, IF YOU WILL, TO REMIND ONESELF OF LIFE'S PUREST AND MOST SIMPLE TREASURES OFTEN LOST WITH LIFE'S STRUGGLES AND RESPONSIBILITIES

IS IT THE WIND GENTLY BLOWING THROUGH THE TREES, OFTEN NOT MAKING A SOUND

THE DROP OF WATER CREATING LIFE'S RIPPLES THROUGHOUT A POND A HUMMINGBIRD FLYING BY

THE SONG OF A WHIPPOORWILL IN THE SPRINGTIME

OR JUST TAKING THE TIME TO LISTEN AND PARTICIPATE IN YOUR OWN CAREFREE HAPPINESS

THE LAUGHTER OF YOUR CHILDREN AS THEY PLAY WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD UNTIL TOMORROW BRINGS ANOTHER SUNNY DAY TO PLAY

JUST ENJOYING YOUR GIRL'S WARMTH

GENTLY HOLDING HER CLOSE ENOUGH TO HEAR THE CONTENTMENT IN HER HEARTBEAT

THE RAGING SOUND THAT ONE'S SON MAKES WITH JUST THE FLICKER OF HIS EYES BECAUSE HE HAS JUST DONE SOMETHING TO MAKE HIS FATHER STAND ONE HUNDRED FEET TALL WITH PRIDE!

DEFINITELY THE SOUND OF YOUR BABY GIRL'S VOICE WHEN SHE SIMPLY CALLS OUT, "DADDY!"

SO IF YOU WANT THE SOUND THE HEAVENS MAKE, TAKE THE TIME TO TURN AROUND AND JUST RECALL ALL OF GOD'S BLESSINGS AND YOU WILL REALIZE THEY MAKE THE LOUDEST NOISE!


Poetry of David Whyte

The Artist The Heart of God to Those Who Will Be Sons
As an artist creates in painting
Scenes of peace and tranquility
I create in you Oh My people
The same in reality
As He sketches in outline and balance
The things that soon shall be
I cause to be put in motion
The forces that make you free

Oh yield to my hands Oh clay
And bid Me to have free expression
Hear what I have to say
for life is the gift I petition

The heavens are my habitation
the earth shall be My easel
The crowning of My creation
Is Christ given for you
As it was in the beginning
And so shall ever be
My love for you Oh my people
Shall span through all eternity

These works of My hands I display
To the artist I give this lesson
To you Oh man these words I say
As a loved and sought for possession
As a loved and sought for possession

I woo you in the coolness of the evening
I call in the night season
I speak to you in the first watch
The second and third watch
I coo to you in the dawning
The sound of the turtle dove
Is heard in the land
Who will respond?
My beloved will hear
He will stir at my first calling
He will lay awake and ponder
The thoughts of his heart will be his rest
He is founded in Me
He is cast and forged as an instrument for threshing
He is fluid as the wind
He is dauntless as the waves crashing a rugged coast line
He ascends the craggy heights as the hind
He abases himself in humility before Me
Oh I love him so!

Romans 8:19


Poetry of Diana Cole

Goodbye 2009 ... Hello 2010!
Like a mountainside, "Two Thousand Nine" ... was curvy, steep and rough,
The arduous and uphill climb toward victory made me tough,
All else that I had trusted ... slowly rusted ... clear on through...
With blistered feet ... the path I beat ... led me straight to You!

World mirages ... a broken promise ... from you I will abstain,
Jabez taught me I should walk on paths that cause no pain,
Tighten up my blinders Lord, like those that guide a horse ...
Help me to stay focused and loyal to Your course!

Allow me opportunities to share that You exist,
I send up countless praises ... in loving fragrant mists,
I worship you with all my heart ... prostrate before your throne ...
Thank You that You died for me ... and now I am Your own!

Another year has come and gone, it's now, "Two Thousand Ten" ...
Brand new days of sunshine and days of rain and wind,
Your presence deeply comforts me ... who cares what's 'round the bend?
Through Christ, I can do anything ... so let the games begin!


Poetry of Hannah Hurnard

Fear Is in His Hands
I said, "I can't stop being afraid".
"I'll teach you, Hannah", He said.

Once, as I was looking out the train
window during a train trip, I saw a
field covered with lovely fruit trees.

In the middle was a huge scarecrow,
and on his arms, five birds were perched.

The Lord said to me, "Hannah, there are
foolish birds and wise birds. The foolish birds
are frightened by scarecrows, and they fly away.
But wise birds know that all the best fruit grows
close to a scarecrow. When they see one,
they chuckle with joy and fly straight there
to find the best fruit.

"Your fears are like a scarecrow.
If you put your hand in mine and go up
to every scarecrow, you'll always find
lovely blessings".


Poetry of Ray Capps

Giants in Our Land
Giants in our land are as large as we think.
Belief in them is what makes them grow.
Doubt in God increases the power of their link.
Confessing them will bow you low.

But people of the Promised Land believe the Great I AM.
The good confession is on their lips and on their heart.
The promises of God are where they stand.
And from at Rest they will never depart.

Many believe the illusion yet only God is real.
Many confess the curse, and to the devil kneel.
Many choose the lie, and in God's promises belie.
Many murmur and deny and in the wilderness die.

Awake from your sleep, for it was only a dream.
Those from the darkness keep; light from the beam.
Rest upon the hard Stone and you will stay awake.
So when the thief comes home, from him you will take.

Enter into Rest and cease from your own labor.
Have firm reliance in God to earn His favor.
Enter through the narrow way while it is still day.
And a giant with a Stone you too will slay.


Poetry of Paula Middendorf

Breath of God Master Gardener
I feel you
Whirling around me.

You're ubiquitous.

I see you
With the eyes given me
By You alone.

And I hear you.

Sometimes rushing
At times sweetly wafting;
Barely a whisper,
But always in motion.

A wave of mercy
A tempest of repentance
A flutter of joy.

Oh Wind;
Breath of God,

What are you blowing in?

You planted me.

A seed that slowly germinated into a prickly mass of thorns entwined with thick foliage of life.

Beauty hidden beneath the weeds of sorrow and ignorance.

You tend me.

A flower slowly blooming with brilliant color and life anchored by roots,
deep and ever growing.

The fragrance of wisdom wafting higher and higher and pleasing to You.

You'll reap me.

A plant fully matured and perfected after weeding and pruning and much cutting back.

A glorious gift that You planted and tended and reaped for Yourself.

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