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About dumasfils

  • Birthday 05/10/1947


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  1. The first trumpet played its note, As morning came from dawn, Men with furry leopard coats, Ready for the sword to be drawn. Up in the Church the bells ring, To praise God’s mighty power, As Poles come from the mountain to sing, To save the forgotten tower. [For me, the best 8 lines--such telling imagery. I keep reading and re-reading them. Memorably well done.
  2. Hey, I like the 'Paul but not THE', very good; haven't seen that before. The 365,000: It's just a number. As you may be aware we humans do, by extrapolation, uncounted sins per day. So if Christ did not sin, then he had to have done uncounted good per day. And then there is also the gospel writer who relates at the end of his gospel that there were many more things that Christ did that would have filled up the world if written.(John 21:25) I really am thinking that because of He being the opposite of us, and John's statement that this number is a very, very low number.
  3. This is How He was…This is How He Will Be later… When He was on earth He did 365,000 miracles in 3 ½ years, drank a bitter cup, and died on a specific hour of the clock. This is how it was for Him on the day they blinded Him, made Him sick with sin, made him miserable, stripped Him naked and took all His possessions away, including His life. On that day, He was Wretched, Miserable, Poor, Blind, and Naked for all of us. When He returns we will see Him as He is, not as He was, but we will see Him as ever-living and King for a Forever; as opposed to King for a Day. He wil
  4. So good of you to share. Your heart-warm words have well written care, even enough to strengthen the strong. I, for one, am encouraged.
  5. Why do you write so much... (with apologies) A Solitary Word I have always wondered: if a person only had or only knew how to spell one word, would that even be possible? And while I wondered about this, I could recall seeing hundreds of scenes that I have personally witnessed in which, even before a baby had become a true language-learner, I could see words entering into that little one's wide-opened eyes. I have a 'for years' collection of such sightings: a father or mother mooning their face into the orbital space of the baby's out-of-focused exosphere. I have
  6. It sings and rumbles right along. Quite nice. In the first two lines I recognized the Rap swing, but loved how the words kept singing and ringing in my head (as other commented) as well. Nicely put about a wonderful story. Our best story on earth. Thank you; well done, thou faithful writer!
  7. For those who served our nation in war; for those who also survived and now serve in heart with those now serving. Like Fog Warriors Of The Grafenvehr Over in a strange land, Der tiger in a bird's cage roars As if to devour mein freund; Even in this, my own faterland, I hear its threat to kill, see each stealthed paw, And feel the spray of its heated breath On my nostrils. Punjied is the mouth of it, and its many teeth Move like the Fog-Warriors des Grafenvehr; And in silent hunt they swarm Down from the highlands
  8. (Photo credit: rio-lecatompessy - Unsplash) The 'Wanna Be' Why About once every three months on Sunday afternoon, my dad lined the children of our church up on the platform to ask them what they wanted to be when they grew up. It was one of my special times that I paid keen attention because each time he would question them their ‘wanna be’ would sometimes change, or would be new ones I had not heard before—and it was enjoyable to hear their voices amplified by the great mike system we had. I listened especially as my father grilled the older ones on why they wanted to be such
  9. If only I could wake, from this slumbered sleep. callout from inside, where deep calls to deep. Yes, the 'deep' does brag in this way, and the despair sometimes comes, but you know...you know who holds your inevitabilities, you life is never forgotten in his hands. Good flow in your poem, but I liked the well -placed creative line above especially. Good thinking.
  10. Thank you, I'm appreciative, more than I can write now. But deeply so. And I should say: this 'day', your 'day' is one of the rare few times I have connected so with the 'honor' from another writer. Additionally, I must say you already do another thing which I will present in my class: you add a dimension; good writing must, must add a dimension to things. And you did it very well in your piece. Please don't stop; it is an essential part of the prime directive.
  11. Ps. When I start my writing class, I must out of a good 'hunger' invite you. Hopefully, it will be here on this venue. One of the first things I have in mind to present is the single thought which makes a great writer is the love for making titles: if that love is gargantuan...so much more comes easier, and that 'I' pours forth its power —God underlying of course, as you write in this piece. Very accurate you are. (I apologize for the number of comments, but when every line of a poem has something great and lovely in it, I am astonied. And I should say, it doesn't happen very ofte
  12. Up! Grab the work....(fervent and true to the right task at hand; more than ever we need to arise and shine. Great line. Far-ranging thought.)
  13. Superb! Superb! Outstanding and just short enough to be enough said, but what a way to say it. Wow, you show you are really impressed by our savior. Oh, that He will teach you more; allow you to write more, for to be a blessing to us who 'shine' as other facets in his jewel. Bravo! Brother. God's Speed, and please think more, write more, and live Him more. In this writing you tell He is healing lots of deep parts of you. I am happy for you, and us who have a chance to know you. Well done.
  14. Ky, So well written and your passions and realizations of what this world with it's overseeing God means to you. The blessing you have given us in this one poem will help sustain among us both those that need help in their 'unbelief' and the strong. I too love writing about these grand and powerful subjects because they exalt the I in me. Beauty= that which exalts. Well done. Very well done.
  15. I Hate My dreams: oh, who can deliver us from the dreamtime? One night I found myself in a dream. I was down town: just walking, not lost or anything, but just reviewing the shine of the city, squinting up into the builded sky, and listening to all the shafted channel-noise that reverberated upward from the motorcades as they revved away from each traffic light. Later, I met a buddy of mine from my high school days, and after languaging with him forever about all the heres and yonders of the newer city with its problem-changes, it began to get late. Out of his kindness, he loaned me a c
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