BURNING LIKE HELL
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Fear Not
Fear not, for God is with you,
Dismay not, He is your God;
He will strengthen to pursue,
So always honor and laud.
Those who incense against Him,
Shall be confused and ashamed;
They shall perish feeling grim,
While the Lord is proclaimed.
He shall seek those who contend,
But the Lord shall not find them;
They war against and offend,
Finally God will condemn.
For the Lord is our God,
Holding onto your right hand;
Helping you from getting flawed,
If you obey His command.
He is the One to help you,
Redeemer, the Holy One;
The One who is just and true,
For He is second to none.
He makes you a threshing sledge,
An instrument having teeth;
And that has such a sharp edge,
Lips protecting like a sheath.
He shall fan sheaves like the wind,
As the breeze carries away;
Like sin and not disciplined,
As they flow and go astray.
When the needy seeks water,
There is none to quench the thirst;
The Lord is a good plotter,
Putting them in the line as first.
He makes streams in high places,
A fountain down in the vale;
Comforts as He embraces,
Assists who are weak and frail.
Myrtle will grow in desert,
Also pine trees and cypress;
For shading you in comfort,
And avoiding the heat stress.
So that you may see and know,
Consider and understand;
Of all that the Lord will show,
What God has done to command.
Copyright © 2021 Richard Newton Sherrer
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Virtual love
Virtual love
Virtual love/lockdown love has become quite the
thing in England, often in the news, often leading
to disappointment, but there have been lucky
virtual lovers, people who never meet and never
take things any further than a little remote company,
a little remote support.
She asked if she could write to me?
Delighted, I said yes, and so began a
Friendship, that spanned the internet.
No meeting place, no face to face, yet
What we had was real, a few shared
Words of poetry, a reason to believe.
That someone out there came across,
The same cold world as I, not exacrly
Empty, more a lack of happy times.
Here we had a space to write, to chat
About our lives, to hear of all the little
Things, ‘it rained quite hard last night’.
Exchanging dreams and notions in
A world that never was, passion in
The small hours, a very nearly kind
Of love. White sheets and feather
Pillows, hearts that skip a beat,
Would you, could you, think of me,
Before you fall asleep?
Tender moments locked in time, though
Many miles apart, but skin close every
Word we wrote, sincerity at heart. And
Still the memory lingers, and still the
Words were true, a virtual kind of love,
My love, fond words from me to you.
© Joseph G Dawson
28/02/2021
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OUR- - - FEELINGS
OUR
FEELINGS*IN OUR
LIFE LIVING AND
L O V I N G
WILL BE REAVEALING;
OUR HEART
F E L T
EMOTIONS
WITH HAPPY
OR
S
A
D
DEALINGS;
WHEN WE FEEL
D
O
W
N
SAD AND
L
O
W;
WE FEEL LITTLE
POSITIVE ENERGY
OR
GLOW;
WHEN WE FEEL
VERY JOYOUS
AND
NATURAL
HIGH
AND
HAPPY;
WE FLY
HIGH
AND
FREE;
IT IS ONLY WHEN
TO GOD WE
P
R
A
Y
AND*FAITHFULLY
TRUSTINGLY
SURRENDER
AND LET*GO;
THAT OUR
H
E
A
R
T
WILL FEEL HAPPY AND LOVED
COMPLETE *AND
F
U
L
L;
BY JOHN D JUNGERS
27*FEBRUARY*2021
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Little Britain
When Britain ruled the waves
Life was so much better.
Now we´ve lost control and
The climate´s getting wetter.
The ice caps are melting
That´s certainly true,
But I´m certain it´s the fault
Of that dastardly EU.
When Britain ruled the waves
We´d plunder and pillage at will.
I´m sure the world would be better
If we could do that still.
We would sort out the natives
Steal their wives, asses, and goats
And if they dared to object we´d
Send in a squadron of gunboats.
Oh, by villainy and conquest
We won the colonisation race
And when Britain ruled
All knew their allotted place.
It´s a well known fact of life
The world had more soul
Under our benign rule
When we were in control.
Oh they can beg and plead
But its now far too late.
They´ll just have to try and
Sort out their own fate.
We don´t care a toss about
Crops rotting in the field
A small price to pay
To keep our borders sealed.
We allow some foreigners in
Without too much of a bitch
So long as they are aristos
Or at least they´re filthy rich.
We know where we´re going!
We´re on the right track!
We are Little Britain and
We´ve got our Country Back!
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Preferring The Stars. (After College)
the invisible ones
in plain sight
cardboard for a bed
and stars for the light
blankets from rags
minds on the moon
wandering the universe
on earth there's no room
summarized in epithets
rounded up and disposed
maligned and blighted
no comforts
what home?
ever slept in the bushes
ever slept under ground
ever slept in a cave
ever wandered
all night long?
I once found a home
in a cave near the river
with an extension chord
inside were gathered amenities
and scribbled plaque
about the Lord
I heard stories of a man
who quacked like a duck
this was his language
he lived in the St. Paul caves
and his art rivalled
the Dadaists and Cubists and
he drew on anything
then sold it for a buck
one summer I knew a woman
that woman was me
I bathed in McDonald's bathroom
and slept sitting up
under a bridge near the university
then showed up for work
as if nothing was wrong
coiffed and perfumed
but often hungry as a lost dog
a few times I dug in the garbage
I was grateful for pizza crusts
on paydays I'd eat a large salad bar
into my pockets I'd stuff
crackers and bread
and errant pats of butter
no one knew
I didn't tell anyone
but the hiding and more hiding
lasted four months until
I found a room
and to tell you
I was happy
I could say
it wasn't much better
feeling alone
in a house full of people
and all the time
preferring the stars.
legal copyright for this poem/truth eight*oh*three pm pacific standard time 2/25/2021
and also for this poet Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt*a*World.
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The Puppy
One summer's day some years gone past, a puppy lost his way, and wandered off away from home at least for one full day. The weather made his voyage worse, his body soaked with rain; it seemed that finding his way back home was sadly all in vain. As night approached the rains increased with winds so sharp and strong, it seemed that life within the pup would not last very long. Forlorn and listless his last move was up three wooden steps, onto a porch all safe and dry wherein he barely crept. And there he fell into a sleep exhausted but quite warm, and most important of all things, well sheltered from the storm. The reader's sadness at this point will now be turned around, for happiness he never knew was where his life was bound. The owner found him on the morning next and brought him in his home, and for days he coddled him as if he were his own. All trials to find his master failed, and days and weeks rushed by, it almost seemed to all a gift send down from rainy skies. In life each one of us may drift someday far off our chosen path, and find the fruit of all our lives turned into grapes of wrath. The message of this poem shouts out real loud that when life gets all that dim, it isn't very long before true love will enter in. The love will lift you up again and wipe away the gloom, and change your darkened days forever to one bright shining moon. r
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Always Will Remain My Rose Garden
Always Will Remain My Rose Garden
Thinking promises, leaving glances unsure that clouds are blue, through the thickness of forest green with misty fields, filling each thought with a smile, a soft kiss from my angel, flying through the purple covered violets so beautiful, touching across my mind, in perfect Time.
Lingering along with glasses so rosy, they brought many days of pleasant dreams thrilling, I hang on, with happiness, my reality.
Thinking promises, watching roses die I see clouds over the swaying trees, days filled with angels, of mother earth, and her sweet creations.
A moment, a calm breeze whispers by, reminding me when oceans were bluish*green and his eyes staring past mine, in glowing wonder, now they pass so softly across the mind touching heart, with peace dreaming in comfort, hearing beats of my heart, in a rose garden that'll remain wondrous forever.
Caressing tightly life's treasures, growing sensationally happy, thoughts playing tunes echoing across the valley, touching down one more time before darkness appears with memories golden, bringing me my garden of love, promises, to be found in this adventure of growth, our garden flourishes, deeply found only in the soul.
((Our Rose Garden Sleeps Softly In Our Own Soul))
© DerenaBree(All rights reserved)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xdp4603B1IM
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