Ode to Tan (poem by me)

Tan, oh tan,
Where art thou?
See me so pale,
I look pallid—
almost sickly.

When you were here,
I looked at least
ten pounds thinner,
Remember summer—
skin all a glimmer.

No, I won’t try
to stir your sleep
with a fake cream,
I’ll wait on you, dear,
At least until spring.

*Only a little time left to submit your short story for Menagerie. Details here: https://drawneartochrist.com/call-for-submissions/.


For That Girl (poem by me)

I wish I was your mother
so I could caress your infant head,
tuck you in at night,
and read a story by your bed.

I wish I was your mother
so I could say it will be okay,
bandage your cut,
and send you back out to play.

I wish I was your mother
so I could tell you God’s plan,
take you to church,
and urge you to wait for a godly man.

*This poem was written in honor of National Adoption Day.

The Weight of the World (poem by me)

I asked myself:
How can I eat salmon
when children have no rice?
How can I buy something new
when they are almost nude?

I heard someone say:
Do for one what
you would do for all.

So I clothed one child,
and gave him bread.
He managed a grin
and then I did too.

The weight of the world
is off of my shoulders.
Now tell me, good sir,
How about you?

“Do to others as you would have them do to you.” —Luke 6:31

*Looking for a child to feed and clothe? Check HERE.

The Change (poem by me)

It was during harvest season,
When the autumn wind howls
I noticed a change in the mam
She had surely gone mad.

Her skin became sallow,
Her clothes no longer fit,
Black hair bulged out,
Rage was her prince.

She sought relief from balms,
Sent for the apothecary,
Applied some homeopathy,
No treatment could be found.

Beads of sweat dripped down,
Hell’s fire blazed within,
There was no hope for her,
Menopause had set in.



From an Iraqi Village (poem by me)

My words were like stillborn children,
My cries for help—all impotent,
Like lambs led to the slaughter,
I’m the only one left.

So hungry I felt like an animal
lusting after human flesh,
So thirsty I drank
my own vile sweat.

I grew immune to the smell
of slow-rotting flesh,
Stopped averting my eyes
when they sliced off their necks.
My lungs still have breath,
But my soul’s ironed flat.

*This poem was written to increase awareness of human suffering in Iraq and inspire prayer for its citizens.

The Un-Worry Process (poem by me)

I put on a coat
that weighed ten pounds,
Everywhere I went
it dragged me down.

I tried to remove it,
It was knitted to my skin,
I foresaw no way
to be free again.

I called on my God,
the Maker of me,
He said, "Let go of all
your stress and worry."

He said, "I've got you,
Rest in my arms,
I'll keep you safe,
and protect you from harm."

I want to say the coat 
dissolved—it's done,
But the truth is I'm pulling
out stitches one by one.

"For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe 
in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his 
sacred tent and set me high upon a rock."—Psalm 27:5

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