Friday, March 29, 2013



The Lamb's Poet

SCROLL DOWN FOR CLICKABLE INDEX TO BOOKS I to XII

Song of a Town Crier at Thanksgiving Time

The starting point: ready, set, go ... that we know.
The Finish line ... we know not when...
all is discovery; mysteries are written
... in stone and in the wind.

Begun in innocence?
We may believe it is so, yet soon enough we
discover the cries of the infants
are ours also, and as our cries now, theirs will be.

Does the child’s query “Why?” ever die?
Fade it does as they are trained to forage and scheme.
Yet secret things whisper to us all in quieter times. 
Will we hear them and search them out?

The paths of mystery run through the earth and life,
a certain end we see at a distance,
and we see others arrive there first, did they search?
Secrets discovered but kept we will not know.

Will we seek also?
Or will the maddening noise of our wheels 
drive us, capture us, crush us? Somewhere
in the distance we will all be captured and crushed.

Time to smell the roses (and be thankful for them) is
taken captive by hunger pains and games, and by pride. 
We push to thrashing for our agenda and advantage. 
Our living is mostly maintenance.

We labor to live it well and long, 
yet we reach the finish,
yet undone, 
And to that mystery all do bow. 

Beginnings and endings, turning, spinning,
shadows fall but the light returns.
Circles, cycles, days and years... starts and starting again,
all does end, are we are finished at our end. 

Tomorrow we may die, and pleasure is commended, but
DEATH is the elephant in every room.


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>....................................................... <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<


I wrote this while waiting for a friend who was having maintenance done by a surgeon on his right eye. After I wrote it, I picked up a Time magazine, Sept. 30th, 2013. The cover article was: 
Can Google Solve DEATH? 
The richest man ever to live did commend both labor (maintenance?) and pleasure (enjoying the fruits of labor). And that man, Solomon, the third King of Israel, son of David and Bathsheba, also said to be the wisest man who ever lived, did also write, in better words than mine:


1 Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come and the years draw near of which you will say, “I have no pleasure in them”; 2 before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return after the rain, 3 in the day when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those who look through the windows are dimmed, 4 and the doors on the street are shut—when the sound of the grinding is low, and one rises up at the sound of a bird, and all the daughters of song are brought low— 5 they are afraid also of what is high, and terrors are in the way; the almond tree blossoms, the grasshopper drags itself along, and desire fails, because man is going to his eternal home, and the mourners go about the streets— 6 before the silver cord is snapped, or the golden bowl is broken, or the pitcher is shattered at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern, 7 and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. 8 Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher; all is vanity.
9 Besides being wise, the Preacher also taught the people knowledge, weighing and studying and arranging many proverbs with great care. 10 The Preacher sought to find words of delight, and uprightly he wrote words of truth.
11 The words of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly fixed are the collected sayings; they are given by one Shepherd. 12 My son, beware of anything beyond these. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.
13 The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. 14 For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil.


Ecclesiastes 12

English Standard Version (ESV)





BECAUSE HE LIVES!


Click each book for contents, and 
poems following, in that book: 
Book I
Book II
Book III
Book IV
Book V
Book VI
Book VII
Book VIII
Book IX
Book X
Book XI
Book XII

Other People's (very good) Poems
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I step down
from the throne my heart has claimed,
I smash down the idols I have raised,
I declare Your death, I immerse my soul
In all Your faith and the promise of Your Resurrection, Your Glory and Your Life.
You are meek and lowly in heart, I put You on,
O clothe me, Your servant, in Your righteousness,
Teach me Your Way, let me ever live for You.
Amen.

















The Lamb's Poet


Attention! Announcing! :: Book XII : <---<<< :
Latest Poems now compliled!

CLICK: Book XII
Here is the index of Book XII ::

Index

1. A New Song
2. Humility
3. What if…
4. who...?
5. Even so...
6. Traveler
7. Yah
8. Your Presence (is enough)
9. Every Day Horror
10. He’s Still There
11. Needy One
12. Humility


Peek-a-boo by Gerry Sutter

Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, diddily do –
Where’s the mud, its stain so true?
I ambled down the water way,
Swollen by the spring melee,
Nearly was I washed on through.

Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, telling you –
I thought I had it working too:
Early to bed and early to rise,
Put in steps to glamorize,
Followed up, I knew.

Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, seeing it through,
‘Til the Lord pointed out the fool.
Pestering proud of my jury rig,
Outside the box, I danced my jig,
Swept off my feet on through.

Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo, whaddaya do?
Sweeping laurel flower’s dew.
I thought I was in charge of life –
Laid low like grass before the scythe,
Then I saw, it’s you.

Friday, November 06, 2009