In the Morning

On By poetfreak07

The daylight is miles away
And the sun peeps into my heart.
Oh, my dear God, give me
A brand new inner being and light.
The trees are gently touching my
Windows and scratching like a cat:
They are trying to get my attention,
But I am still fast, fast asleep.

Paul meets a professor

On By poetfreak07 
The apostle Paul came
to the Universe in Great America.
"Who are you?" The Prof. asked.
"You look rather old."
"I am Paul, the apostle."
The students muttered,
"Who is the apostle Paul?"
"You have made ignorance a
proper place in your classroom."
Paul said with a grin.
"How dare you come to my class
and mock me in front of the students."
The Professor said with anger.
"You make the God of Creation and His
Son angry with your contemptuousness."
"You have replaced what is true
with what is fickle and spleen."
Paul walked toward the black board
and said to the rest the classroom,
"I, the apostle Paul, have been sent
to set the record straight."
Before Paul could finish,
the professor interjected,
"You mean the God of the Bible?"
"Niche said he was dead."
"It appears Niche
is dead, right?" Paul mocked.
"This God that Niche spoke
about in His work, Parable 
of the Mad Man, is the
same One who breaths today. 
"You philosophic handicaps
have gotten Him wrong for
the last time." Paul said.
"You have accepted the things
of man over the Word, Jesus Christ."
Then, the class got quite.
But the professor was unabashed
when he said, "prove it."
"I do not need to prove
it by your worldly standards."
"For I have already seen and
tasted the glory of the Lord
and have gained an eternity 
with the God of creation
and His Son, Jesus the Christ."
"It is in just a few moments
that Satan will devour you."
The professor silenced himself
and the apostle Paul left
the classroom with this:
"Prepare for the time to meet
the Creator of all life."

Oh, poor, insignificant world!
How ignorant you have become!

What Poetry is…My take

On By poetfreak07

Poetry, if I may add,
without doubt,
is a way of life.
We are all born
with something great,
that is, a God-
given ability
to create beauty.
To you, oh world,
which is lost,
I say write away.
But remember this:
Poetry is a soul
in and of its self.
It must be shaped.

Kiss

On By poetfreak07

You should have seen what I’ve seen,
how the waters of the rivers and
the seas united and embraced each other;
The winds came from out at sea
mixing together with the cool breeze
of the river, which made me serene;
Nothing in this world, my love,
is as us, for we are as these two waters.
My I, my love, embrace you with a kiss?
Look to the mountains and the trees
how they have kissed each other for ages;
No little flower of the field has ever
gone on without a peck on the cheek
from one of those little grass hoppers.
And, oh, look at how God placed the Sunlight,
how it never ceases to let go of the Moonlight,
They have been kissing from the day they
laid eyes on each other?
How could I ever leave you alone my love?
You lips drip with the finest drops
of cinnamon sugar. For it is sweet.
May I? May I just once kiss you with my all?

Bear and me

Today in September
I saw a bear,
He smiled at me
and said hello.
You don’t get
that much from
actual people.
That bear and I
had one of the
simplest conversations:
How are you? I asked.
I am great. He said.
What’s it like
to be a bear? I wondered.
It’s interesting
to have people
throw me a treat,
but it’s even more
interesting to see
you actually
talking to me. He walked on.

On By poetfreak07

Portrait of the Old Man

The man in a black suit and a black hat was here.
He sat there slumped over the back of the chair
With his left hand there to hold his face up.
His other arm slacks down by his cain.
He Starred  at something that says nothing in return.
Indeed, it was a stare of a distant and empty soul.
His eyes were indeed slack, dull and wet with rocks.
His voice was monotone, and it screamed at me.
This goes deeper to the root of the man:
For his heart was heavy and solid,
Full of sickness and dolefulness.
His world had spun out and never seemed to slow,
And he suffered from a blurred sense of vision,
A lack of energy and an undone moment.
It seemed he did not know what the future may bring.
The one sentence was on his mind:
“There seems to be a world of difference with nostalgia.”

On By poetfreak07