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Keith Wallis

Poetry Challenge 2015

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I've spoken lies, selfish blues I've sung.

 

 

Give me a new one, free of caves, hollow sounds.

 

 

I've worried loud, my hands are wrung.

 

 

Give us grace, in a new song, now.

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It is TRUE I love you

 

 

It is TRUE that I love you

 

 

How I ADORE you

 

 

It is TRUE

 

 

It is TRUE I love you

 

 

I am still HERE in this place

 

 

It is TRUE that I love you

 

 

Joel 2:12

 

 

"Even now,” declares the Lord,

 

 

“return to me with all your heart,

 

 

with fasting and weeping and mourning.”

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He told us so, that we need not fast,

 

 

for time flew by, present and past.

 

 

He the Groom and we the Bride,

 

 

no supper table would be denied.

 

 

And so we went from town to town,

 

 

spent from walking, filled by joy,

 

 

focused on what should be obeyed,

 

 

needing no fast; He was the Way.

 

 

And He still is, and He's still here,

 

 

by Spirit, real--yet--what's this kind gnaw of hunger?

 

 

And so we fast to plumb the depths

 

 

of how to long and be content.

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Tears in Glory will be hard to come by,

 

 

no one will break a sweat with the eternal dance music.

 

 

A handkerchief will only be needed to wipe

 

 

the overspill of the River of Life,

 

 

as a souvenir.

 

 

Good sentiment won't be exhausted,

 

 

and deep thinking will deepen

 

 

into a constant welcome gift,

 

 

complementing rejoicing

 

 

as much as wisdom embraces

 

 

Heaven's mirth.

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Heaven's trumpet voices in verses that course through my soul

from backwater hymns I heard in the car,

 

 

to that one stray scripture seen a billboard,

 

 

a servant brother's broad smile over a winsome guffaw.

 

 

When I lay me down, I start to toss,

 

 

the one place where mindworks do not suffer loss.

 

 

How can I drift off on some silent, smooth lake

 

 

when our life together keeps me awake?

 

 

Gather in me, oh Spirit the things that You must.

 

 

Deep sleep may come in the midst of this trust.

 

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Yearning and contentment are oxymorons in mankind’s logic.

 

 

Yet, for many, including me, it is a way of life.

 

 

I am content with who I am, what I have and what I don’t have.

 

 

God had granted me not only mercy and forgiveness,

 

 

He has fulfilled all my physical needs.

 

 

When I needed them to raise my children He gave me a house.

 

 

When I needed to drive my children places, He gave me a car.

 

 

As my body began to decay from chronic illness, He gave me a doctor to care for me.

 

 

Now that I can no longer live alone, He had a friend offer me a room in her home.

 

 

I want for nothing this world can provide for me, yet my spirit has a deep seeded yearning.

 

 

I want to see Him coming in the clouds.

 

 

I want to look upon his face filled with love.

 

 

I want to hear my spirit sing out the New Song.

 

 

I am HIS! I am HIS! I am Going Home with HIM!

 

 

©2015 B.D.Duffy

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Contented.

 

 

An old man

 

 

Hands calloused from years of toil,

 

 

Forehead wrinkled from long years of frowns,

 

 

Cheeks crinkled from the days of smiles.

 

 

Now alone, forgotten, old,

 

 

He sits and remembers

 

 

A life well lived.

 

 

His present aches and pains and needs . . .

 

 

These all he forgets.

 

 

A life well lived,

 

 

A God well-served,

 

 

A family well-cherished,

 

 

A legacy well-made --

 

 

What are aches and pains and needs

 

 

Compared with this?

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What's legacy without the Lord,

 

 

good works, without their staying Author?

 

 

Oh, we could live out our own loves,

 

 

but these will crinkle more than us.

 

 

What's thought or deeds without the Lamb

 

 

to make us flock toward His plans?

 

 

When we serve others with this mind,

 

 

posterity smiles, to us is kind.

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What is love that man would pursue it so?

 

 

For such is a fickle thing when he claims it’s use.

 

 

We assert ourselves struck by cupid’s bow,

 

 

but brandish love’s name whilst parroting perfidious Zeus.

 

 

As a fool taunts fire, so mortals flirt with passion,

 

 

so as lads tease with blades it’s prestige goes un-weighed.

 

 

It may crush the heart in guileful fashion,

 

 

and tortures thought till sound mind fade.

 

 

And yet for all these woes, tis not made of spiteful blows!

 

 

For the kosher stuff is just and kind,

 

 

true-peace and light are all it knows.

 

 

To hapless face and past offense, honest love is wholly blind.

 

 

But what can love be to a man,

 

 

when his world perverts it best it can?

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Dead religion lives on a Maginot line.

 

 

The enemy just does a run-around, to the indignant practicioner's surpise.

 

 

But when a just person, through a lapse, a doubt or just inexperience is dealt a blow,

 

 

The inbred instinct is to humbly retool and ask to be retooled,

 

 

Trust and works brandishing their teeth against dishonour,

 

 

Enduring until hope sees a sunrise of promise,

 

 

Standing firm till a dignified sunset commemorates today's

 

 

Early commitment to seek Daily Bread.

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(I planned to post this in a critiqe section but seeing as how I cannot access im that part of the site yet...)

 

 

Pyramid

 

 

Squish squash under the feet,

 

 

Squish squash under the feet,

 

 

Squish squash under the feet,

 

 

They they walk on the worms for the Ravens to eat;

 

 

while the lowly ones bled,

 

 

it when to Their head.

 

 

The higher-ups never do mourn for the dead.

 

 

Squish squash under the feet,

 

 

the worms are all desperate for something to eat.

 

 

But by "curing the drought",

 

 

They flushed them all out,

 

 

so once fertile words are made barren in doubt.

 

 

Squish squash under the feet,

 

 

the mighty tall rich ones make vows they won't meet.

 

 

In abuseing the worms,

 

 

They've forsaken the terms;

 

 

the negligence insults, and worst fears affirms.

 

 

The fears of the scum that the high ones call germs;

 

 

that people of labor may always be worms.

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Over my coffee cup, I see green leaves

 

 

squirming, like a boy in a barber chair, shifting to breathe,

 

 

and a bay window beauty of a fawn of a deer:

 

 

does she wonder why I live right here?

 

 

Oh, the moon's just about skirted away,

 

 

laughing like there's less under the stars to come out and play,

 

 

but God's dominion means a myriad of things.

 

 

There's so much in the mind, it would make Abraham dizzy.

 

 

So I'll . . .

 

 

Set down my cup, put on my boots,

 

 

strut confident that your Word is true,

 

 

take the keys that will take me wherever You lead,

 

 

under a blue sky, in a pick-up, free.

 

 

Who woulda thought that a little meditation

 

 

under a kitchen light, Bible open to "Lamentations",

 

 

would take such a real faith, make it explode

 

 

into a joy on earth, making me whole?

 

 

. . . during any work break I'll put my shovel down,

 

 

shift to the memory of this morning's glow.

 

 

Can anything beat the feel of feet solidly

 

 

planted in a hope that started that early?

 

 

Like You . . .

 

 

Loved us all before the world began,

 

 

planned to mess with Texas and ever other man,

 

 

to get into his heart, give peace in a fight,

 

 

forgive sin for a change, make us yor delight.

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Wholly Other

 

 

Believed

 

 

Untouched

 

 

Felt

 

 

Unseen

 

 

Beheld

 

 

Holy

 

 

Covenant God

 

 

Sinners

 

 

Bride

 

 

Judge

 

 

Groom

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Felt

 

 

Hurt

 

 

Ignored

 

 

Deprived

 

 

Dejected

 

 

Lonely

 

 

Neglected

 

 

Sad

 

 

Fact

 

 

Loved

 

 

Wanted

 

 

Appreciated

 

 

Cared for

 

 

Gifted

 

 

Treasured

 

 

Joyful

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Blessed by gifted faith

 

 

The Father of lights does not change

 

 

He infuses our shadows with light

 

 

Our righteousness under the Son

 

 

Mirrors the sun so brightly

 

 

What good we do evil is at hand

 

 

Thorn in the flesh duly noted

 

 

resistance with tears and groanings

 

 

Thankful evermore for His grace

 

 

His mercy for His children

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When You said to take Your yoke

 

 

it was light upon my shoulders,

 

 

not lightweight

 

 

and hardly 'easy'.

 

 

It was the light of understanding,

 

 

the light of absent darkness,

 

 

the light of releasing truth.

 

 

It was a lightness of Spirit,

 

 

a song in the loud silence of life,

 

 

and step on the rainbow road

 

 

to reconcilliation.

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Yesterday, my mother-in-law saw more colours

 

 

than in Noah's rainbow.

 

 

The angels now testify to her

 

 

that she was right to trust,

 

 

to be equally yoked to Jesus,

 

 

though so unequally paired.

 

 

How gentle Jesus was to her,

 

 

and this gentle grace coloured her walk,

 

 

connecting life's seemingly random dots.

 

 

Now, she can fold the drawing

 

 

and proudly present it to her Abba.

 

 

In the Great Hope, I will see you soon, Paquita!

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In the beginning, He was God;

 

 

In the end, He made many souls with Godness.

 

 

In the beginning, He was the Word;

 

 

In the end, He confirms His every Word.

 

 

In the beginning, He starts creations;

 

 

In the end, He already made many creators.

 

 

In the beginning, He was equal to God;

 

 

In the end, We all attain Image that equal to Him.

 

 

In the beginning, His heart had thirst for Human Love;

 

 

In the end, many hearts will be satisfied by His Love.

 

 

In the beginning, He was God;

 

 

In the end, He still remains as ONLY GOD.

 

 

Hallelujah !!!

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At the top of Babel

 

Silence

 

Ha, we were right,

 

no one here but

 

us!

 

Except--confusion!

 

What's that sound?

 

Why does everyone

 

draw a dagger

 

to defend what is not theirs?

 

At the bottom of Babel

 

Chaos

 

Oh, we were wrong!

 

Why then are we here?

 

Us?

 

Except--for repentance?

 

What's that sound?

 

Why does the Upper Room crowd

 

Have fiery tongues

 

to commend He Who was not theirs?

 

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The world speaks in babel tongue

 

 

the language of love of self,

 

 

the silent selfless bleed their words

 

 

on the shoreline before an oncoming tide.

 

 

Loves labours lost, Paradise lost,

 

 

left luggage crowded at the station

 

 

and the train has gone.

 

 

Where goest thou.

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We've all bumped into the ark

 

 

shivered at the severe 40-day reset

 

 

wondered with aching at the rainbow arch

 

 

awaited a new Age of Innocence.

 

 

So we stumbled down that: Ararat,

 

 

some still on Sinai get the fact.

 

 

And if it weren't for Zion calling us back

 

 

love would elude us on our tracks.

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The ark,

 

 

No rudder, no engine

 

 

But spirit guiding,

 

 

No GPS, no satellite

 

 

Yet God deciding.

 

 

Faithful servants

 

 

Obediently stepped out, Chronicled heroes

 

 

We strive to emulate.

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We've all bumped into the ark

shivered at the severe 40-day reset

 

 

wondered with aching at the rainbow arch

 

 

awaited a new Age of Innocence.

 

 

So we stumbled down that: Ararat,

 

 

some still on Sinai get the fact.

 

 

And if it weren't for Zion calling us back

 

 

love would elude us on our tracks.

 

Love this. reminds us all of the value of GOD's love for us

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