Poetry

These are poems that I have written over the years.   I hope you enjoy reading them.

(Click on Titles to see the original entry, most of which have my photography)


The Potter's Hand

Standing and waiting, as broken as the day
Head bowed low, I’ve even no more to pray
Having done all, I’m silent and still
As I yield to the Potter as clay on His wheel.
Damaged and marred by the world’s cruel drought
Aware that even I would have thrown me out
Weary and willing, I now yield control
And in the Potter’s hands, finally I’m whole.



The Hope in a Tree 

Our lives, my friends, are like the mighty tree,
Standing study and strong against the wind.
Limbs and leaves are like you and me,
We must sometimes learn to bend.
When storms of life come rolling about,
Feeling battered and bruised we stand.
Though life is filled with turmoil and doubt,
We must hold to God’s firm hand.

For the mighty tree, when storms cause aches,
Is never like the slender reed.
The tree won’t bend, so therefore breaks
And a fractured heart will bleed.
The storms of life can shatter a soul
Like the tree ravaged by the wind,
Yield like the reed to the intense flow,
And hold to the hand of a Friend.

When I consider the mighty oak
Toppled by the wind,
It wouldn’t bow, that’s why it broke,
I cry for the loss of a friend.
Weather-beaten by storms, I'm tried,
And often feel life’s broken me
But hope is found, for Jesus died
Hanging on a splintered tree.



The Bridge

It was a harsh and stony pathway, 
Though I knew the way was straight.
It seemed so dark and hopeless, 
But I had to keep my faith.
Trudging up hills, 
Climbing rocks and ragged hedges;
It took all the strength I had 
Just to dodge the jagged edges.

Slipping down the mountainside, 
Voicing my complaint;
My strength was gone, my courage failed, 
I was fighting not to faint.
Having made it to the foot of the hill, 
Oh, the valley I then faced,
Tired and beaten, so weary and worn, 
How could I run this race?
If I stopped to rest, would I give up and die? 
Would I make it on my own?
The path was my life, I could clearly see 
How I had reaped what I had sown.
Suddenly at a river in this valley low; 
A raging, evil tide;
Help me, God! Please help me, God, 
Get to the other side!

The fog began to lift in the midst of my despair,
I saw a bridge on up ahead,
An answer to my prayer!
Warily I crossed the narrow way, 
For the water raged below;
How this bridge had suddenly appeared,
I surely did not know!
Looking up I saw the mountaintop,
Where Peace and Love abide;
It’s such a relief to have crossed the bridge,
And be on the other side.
Halfway up I turned and looked, 
And cried at what I saw
My rugged bridge was the Cross, 
Where Jesus bore it all!




No Survivor Am I

My worth isn’t measured by my current condition,
Opinions of others, or my present position.
Though my foot may slip, I am not incomplete,
My failures are never my final defeat.
By God’s grace, I’ll dance though the fire,
Knowing by faith I’ll not drown in the mire.
A survivor is never what I shall be,
But a powerful overcomer for others to see.
My suffering, I’ll know, was never in vain,
Seeing someone’s miracle brought out of my pain.
My destiny isn’t sealed by today’s situation,
My current position is not my final destination.




How He Loves Me Still

Oh, how He loves me, He knows my every prayer,
Lavishing gifts of beauty that surround me everywhere.
Clouds tinted pink from a glowing sunrise,
The sheer intensity of the purple evening skies.
Like a billowing breeze blowing countless falling leaves,
Countless are His thoughts that He thinks about me!
Gently invading daybreak with a regally creeping sun
‘Til a burst of fire lights my day, crowning the horizon.
Trees with leafless branches reaching toward the sky,
Remind me to praise Him with my own hands held high.
Sometimes I stumble and fall from His will,
Ah, though He knows me, He loves me still.



The Greater Love

(The Sacrifice of the Cross)

I knelt at the altar in an unworthy state
My misery fell in tears, an opened floodgate
So undeserving to even bow at His throne
I had made a decision, but I didn't do it alone.

Difficult it was to kneel before the King
For I knew I was sullied, defiled, and unclean.
My life was tumultuous, my choices unwise
But kneeling at the altar, God heard my cries.

Oh, so unworthy to call on His Name
But there at the altar, love overcame!
Blood shed by Him paid the price long ago,
Although undeserving, I was made whiter than snow.


The enemy lost, many years he has striven,
For Mercy was abundant, my every sin is forgiven
I have been washed by the blood of the Lamb
Saved by Jehovah, the Great I AM.  


I had made a decision, but I didn’t make it alone,
My Father called; He is my Cornerstone
And because I knelt, because I called on His Name,
The greater love, the Cross, was not in vain.

The Voice in the Storm

(After the April 27, 2011 tornadoes that ravaged North Alabama)

The Heart of Sweet Dixie, fragmented and torn,

Where worry and grief on souls are now worn,

On the heels of the storms lie heartache and sorrows,

But Faith gives assurance for recovered tomorrows.

Though bruised and in pieces, together we’re one,

Hand in hand in the darkness, while we wait for the sun.

Shambles and ruin can’t take away hope

When compassion reaches out to help others cope.

Who is the Voice that hushes the wind,

And Who, with His word, starts hearts to mend?

His hand never leaves us in storms such as these,

He calms the wind to a mere gentle breeze.

In the darkest moment dawn opens its eye,

A new hope awakens a fresh power supply.

With the brink of the day new strength appears,

As the hand of the Son dries up the tears.