The woman stood in a terrible place;
she was carrying her rapist’s child;
filled with anger, hurt, and disgrace;
to be a mother for one so reviled.
The baby inside her was a little girl;
whose father was a rapist and worse;
the woman’s mind was in a
Poems about God
The woman stood in a terrible place;
she was carrying her rapist’s child;
filled with anger, hurt, and disgrace;
to be a mother for one so reviled.
The baby inside her was a little girl;
whose father was a rapist and worse;
the woman’s mind was in a
I’m just a man with a garden,
and bags full of seeds nearby;
my misdeeds require a pardon;
bringing offerings to reply.
I’d fill my garden with edibles;
then I’d grow something to eat;
planting all kinds of vegetables;
including some that are sweet.
Nothing to fill
…Each of us has a separate identity;
as such, we’re all given a gift;
things to which we’ve an affinity;
an ability, those around us to lift.
These gifts to us are really for others;
designed, for us, to others, share;
for the enjoyment of sisters and brothers;
We long to be in the real world;
the one that’s apparent to me;
but, what if our image was hurled;
made projection of facets to be?
What if the real world’s beyond us;
a realm of information it be;
commanded by One who loves us;
information and
Today I cried for one I don’t know;
not a specific woman or man;
my energy, inside, let sorrows flow;
and I cried just because I can.
Pent-up emotions of all mankind;
came flowing upon on me, like rain;
engulfed with a sadness, undefined;
waves of sorrow came flowing
What if a million years is simply a day;
devoid of sunset and sunrise?
Reality says it happens that way;
all life is simply reprise.
What will we be when everything dies;
when the universe takes its last breath?
How will consciousness make its replies;
when everything around it is
There’s very little we understand,
of the immense power we hold;
to which we can avail on demand;
but rarely find ourselves bold.
Often we’re serious for a moment or two;
believing in all that we say;
but simply our words lack power to do;
it’s our
Wisdom is a form of energy;
like oil, hidden deep in the ground;
it’s mined in ways we cannot see;
for it’s thought energy all around.
We all think we can study and be wise;
but that isn’t really the way it is;
for wisdom oft remains