Category: My Poems

With Him, Within: The Battle

Lord,
I wanna fight temptation tonight
&
I wanna sit in sin and miss my flight.
“What’s one more? It’s just a little plight…”
Grace me with power, O Lord.

Let my bed your worship redound,
Help me obey when no one’s around;
“God’s holding out on you” slithers the sound;
Power me with grace, O Lord.

You’re sweeter and stronger than my lust,
Cleanse my heart though its frame be dust,
My actions to sing: “In you alone I trust.”
Grace me with power, O Lord.

Free me to love you by controlling my self,
Theft me poor to sin, this a holy wealth,
Whatever the cost, “in sickness or health:”
Power me with grace, O Lord.

 

For further meditation:

  • Genesis 39:12; Psalm 1:1; 63:6; James 4:1-10

I Overheard Happiness at Bath Time

Mama & daughter giggle in the suds,
Babygirl & sister wriggle crackin’ up,
Sissy & bride squeal with white wine,
Onward, ladies, thunder! Roll your joyful tides!

From hearts, dam-busting; founts
of these, your baptizing, glad refrains.
How Sarah’s son treasures the bellows:
the resetting glees his gals hurricane.

I didn’t know folks could hear it:
chords of happiness hooting ring,
But, ah, now I see it—that hearing
laughter is hearing happiness,
guffawing hymns that smiles sing.

M’dearies, please howl on your melodies,
your chortling, cheerful cacophonies,
for your sonance croons venerating:
That Jesus goofed ‘n laughed, joked ‘n jabbed;
That God composed these beats.

And they are good. And I am thankful.
And—haha—Lord, may we roll again.


For further meditation:

What Silences Storms?

My bliss, your diction;
My heart’s inscription,
Your Word, nix tricks and jokes not.

It cuts. It convicts.
Tastes rich, thick its sips,
Your Word to my lips burns hot.

Taught me truth and right.
Taut string, me the kite;
Your Word tugs—in flight, I soar!

Up, up! from the depths,
When I hear God’s breath,
Your Word: “No more death,” it roars!

And I limp out my door, hopeful
again, continuing homeword.

 

Reviews & Rearviews or In Reverse, Slowly

Faithful Father, too often
I look back on your deeds
as a driver does her rearview
mirror: a second glance,
and I forget the mile.

But this is no holy amnesia;
this is no Philippians 3:13.

Help me, Lord, to review
your works with turtle-likeness;
help me not to leave miracles
—like my conversion—in my past
unvisited; help me to quit
Indy Five Hundreding my life.

For speed is sexy, but faithfulness?
It’s a track best driven slowly.

A Day Off Work, A Day On Family

image1

Today I went among an orchard
with a ball of peanut butter on wheels,
which is to say I went apple-picking
with my daughter. And my queen,
mine and no one else’s,
She rode shotgun, too.

We all laughed, took pictures.
We did, I guess, what families do.
Which meant times were largely good,
though some hangry. But about the latter:
we repented quickly; by God’s grace
we were short with one another only a
short while.

But my time of looking at them, these gifts? Was l o n g;
long like God’s grey sky that day,
like the drive out there and like
the Moana soundtrack we played babygirl on the way back.

Yet here and there and there and here,
I’d look at them
because long ago my eyes decided:
time away from these two
was the worst kind of time.

So, we left the apple farm, got lunch,
changed a diaper and came home pooped.
Still I prayed, “Long live the day.”