Nice!

This poem breaks my heart. It is a really good poem as it touches the heart, as a good poem should.

Perfect!

2 Peter 3:9 The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is long-suffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance. If God does not wish that any should perish, I would imagine his 'predestination' would include every soul, and not just a chosen few. Just a thought... Maureen Dobbins

Enjoyed this again tonight.

Another good poem. Satisfaction in Him and our Heavenly Kingdom.

This poem is very good Nikki. Very artful and skillful.

Thank you Nikki and Anon. I too am always needing to pray to God, for All things under Heaven!

I enjoyed that little story. I definitely ignore all those passers by and just try to please the donkey. I love animals!

I Love this melodic and meaningful poem.

Smart poem!

To all my friends Who are gathered here Please remember My spirit is near Do not despair Or have a care That I am not around For God is always more profound Than whoever is buried in this here ground

I don’t write for poetry’s sake Nor do I write for your sake Politics pollutes the heart of poetry Unless it is done artfully Poetry leads me by the hand to a place of mercy And away from my race to death Poetry says no more or less And doesn’t buckle under duress Poetry feels my pain and bears the burden Misery becomes poetry And breathes the life back into me To know me, is to know poetry

Nietche said that God is dead And there are times when that goes to my head If there is no hope for me My life has been a calamity Waking each morning to the emptiness No Power at all, just helplessness But, if I try real hard and think things through Some of those mornings did seem new A chance to breathe some fresher air Thinking, maybe, He does care Something, maybe, can happen to day To make me smile, feel light and gay Was Nietche right? Or is every morning always a fight To walk toward His Light That I may see in the dark of night I guess the choice is mine to believe That Nietche did deceive Because he refused to receive A force of love That like a dove Embodies peace And offers up each new morning An explosion of Grace To the human race

Beauty is my two-faced liar An ugly thing in itself It presents a sovereign and harmonious front It hides my battles, weapons and fires I did not find it on the shelf If I had, I would put it back I’d rather buy something else Beauty is a surface plot That undermines what I have got And makes me all that I am not Beauty is child’s play: Come out, come out wherever you are! I’m stuck behind my beauty bar I like to talk to the mannequins in the department stores They sold their souls, those beauty whores Ω