Poems

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Poems

Postby Noels » Wed Jan 18, 2017 2:21 am

I wish for you...

Comfort on difficult days,
Smiles when sadness intrudes.
Rainbows to follow the clouds,
Laughter to feel your lips,
Sunsets to warm your heart,
Gentle hugs when spirits sag,
Friendship to brighten your day,
Beauty for your eyes to see,
Confidence for when you doubt,
Faith so that you can believe,
Courage to know yourself,
Patience to accept the truth,
and love to complete your life.
(Author - no idea)
There is only Love
Noels
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Re: Poems

Postby Noels » Wed Mar 15, 2017 5:28 am

This was apparently written by a 15 year old child residing in an area where The Lord’s Prayer is no longer allowed in Public Schools. Hectic.

“Now I sit me down in school where praying is against the rule,
For this great nation under God
Finds mention of Him very odd.

If scripture now the class recites,
It violates the Bill of Rights.
And anytime my head I bow
Becomes a Federal matter now.

Our hair can be purple, orange or green,
That’s no offence, it’s a freedom scene.
The law is specific, the law is precise,
Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice.

For praying in a public hall
Might offend someone with no faith at all.
In silence alone we must meditate,
God’s name is prohibited by the State.

We’re allowed to cuss and dress like freaks,
And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks
They’ve outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible,
The quote the Good Book makes me liable.

We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen,
And the “unwed daddy”, our Senior King
Its “inappropriate” to teach right from wrong,
We’re taught that such “judgments” do not belong.

We can get our condoms and birth controls,
Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles,
But the Ten Commandments are not allowed
No word of God must reach this crowd.

Its scary here I must confess,
When chaos reigns the school’s a mess.
So Lord, this silent plea I make :
Should I be shot, My soul please take!

Amen"
There is only Love
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Re: Poems

Postby D'oh » Wed Mar 15, 2017 9:37 am

THE DIFFERENCE


I got up early one morning and rushed right into the day. I had so much to accomplish that I didn't have time to pray. Problems just tumbled about me, and heavier came each task. "Why doesn't God help me?" I wondered. He answered, You didn't ask," I wanted to see joy and beauty, but the day toiled on, gray and bleak. I wondered why God didn't show me. He said, "But you didn't seek.: I tried to come into God's presence. I used all my keys at the lock. God gently and lovingly chided, "My child, you didn't knock." I woke up early this morning and paused before enter the day. I had so much to accomplish that i had to take time to pray.

Author: UNKNOWN
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Re: Poems

Postby Noels » Sat Apr 01, 2017 11:39 pm

Good morning everyone :D Just felt like sharing this beautiful poem with you this morning. Have a wonderful Sunday and be the best you can possibly be.
Lotsa Love xxx

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging me down.
And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.

He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"
In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.

Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.
But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise,
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need."
But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.
"You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play,
Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see
A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.
And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
And appreciate every second that's mine.

And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy, Another weed in his hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.
There is only Love
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Re: Poems

Postby Brock » Sun Apr 02, 2017 4:09 am

The Touch of the Master's Hand

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"

"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three…" But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,
And going and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the Master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game — and he travels on.
He is "going" once, and "going" twice,
He's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.
"Good morning, this is your Higher Power speaking. I will not be needing your help today."
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Re: Poems

Postby clouds » Sun Apr 02, 2017 7:50 am

Old musical instruments everywhere, play on!
" Burn the idea into the consciousness of every man that he can get well regardless of anyone. The only condition is that he trust in God and clean house." page 98 A.A.
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Re: Poems

Postby Noels » Sun Apr 02, 2017 7:58 am

Thanks Brock. Absolutely beautiful :D
Xxx
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