It’s hard to say goodbyes
Always feels like a lump
Too big to swallow
Too hot on the tongue
Too sticky to spit out
Does Life play a trick on us
When it shows us love
When it watches us love
Then expects us to say goodbyes
Starting what it won’t finish
Because life never really ends
Here the comfort lies
When the Truth speaks
Pulling pictures to remembrance
All tagged with love and laughter
‘we had a good time together
I hope to see you again someday’
Pearly Thoughtz
(C)2022
It’s in His nature to provide for me even when I don’t know what I want.
He feeds me with goodness and floods peace to my soul.
By His name, He restores me to sight each time I lag.
Even though I walk through hot coals with bare feet unending, He swallows up my fears in comfort with healing and gifts in His bosom.
He sets me up for royal treats in the darkest storms and redeems me with the outpour of his spirit and an overdose of merriness and joy.
Surely goodness and mercy follow me forever as I am now a host of His eternal spirit and life.
As the years draw nigh
With love shining in many forms
Like a rose among the thorns
I have come to understand and believe that everything written in the 23rd Psalm seized to be my responsibility the day I said YES to Him, my good Shepherd.
Imani Dokubo
(C) 2022
To falter is an option to be ignored right there when spurred.
But leaves an ‘I don’t care nod‘ instead of a step.
Air has made the balloon fatter while past failures still lurks around.
Know that purpose is a deep water.
Understanding will lure the fountain within not you standing so sure you have a brain to count on, with conscious efforts of kneeling be ready to birth a mountain.
“Where was that brain of yours when comfort zone stole time and left you pained?”
“Where was your brain when the added weight kept altering every step you took to catch up with the train?”
“Where was your brain when the candle within was quenched and you were drained?”
An awful conclusion it is, one propelled by absence of Divination.
The altar needs fire not water. Farther will age read unless a retreat is called.
The altar needs consistency not a ‘once in a blue moon visitor.’
The altar needs to be mobile not cold because the author won’t speak until visiting becomes hourly even though tagged odd
The altar will draw so much and won’t tire when on fire!
– Ebubechi
(c) 2021
The blood she shed was all her own.
She’d found no way to staunch the flow
For twelve long years.
The cost to her in doctors’ care
Was nothing to her shame and her enormous fears.
Unclean and thus untouchable
She knew she’d live and die alone in blood and tears.
The world had turned its back on her
And all she saw and all she touched was tinged with red.
Denied the right to worship God,
Denied the Temple courts by law, her soul was dead.
Denied all comfort, love of friends
And touch of man, she kept alone her blood-stained bed.
Her last hope lay in this new man,
But with her touch she’d make him, too, unclean, outcast.
And should she even hope for help?
Of all the people God might heal she was the last.
For it was God who sent the curse,
The blood and shame, the loneliness, through Laws He passed.
In spite of all these doubts and fears,
Mistrust of God, she took her chance – a touch unseen.
Then, Jesus, the untainted, changed the Law to Love.
Her world became new, fresh and green.
The blood He shed was all his own,
And flowing down it covered her and washed her clean.
Pamela Urfer
© 2021
The one; who sat and watched my infant head?
While I slept in your beautiful cradled arms.
The one who held me dearly, like a craft, never to be broken.
Pain is driven off in her arms, arms of love that never harms.
She cast away my fears and with loving warmth dries away my tears.
Her eyes are like stars to behold, they give me hope beyond despair.
When pain and sickness made me cry,
Touches from you made me smile.
I was nurtured like a plant to flourish,
Was polished carefully till I looked pretty and beautiful.
Guilty she felt when I had not gotten plenty,
Yet with care she made “this little” satisfy my every need.
Who taught my infant lips to pray?
Who trained me in the way of God and His word?
Told me I would have life less without having the Life of Christ.
Her love is incomprehensible, she calls it agape.
She encouraged me to be loving too because love never fails.
Never look back, heaven is before you. That is her greatest story.
When thou art feeble, old and grey,
I will be your strength, your fulfillment and comfort.
Your smile I will make as I feel your heart with joy everyday.
And one day emerge the man you are proud to call son.
I will take you to church even when you rest in peace.
But till then this is my piece for you;
MY MOTHER.
Adethatwrites
© 2019
I crawl, and it’s okay for me
Cause standing tall means I could fall
But then…I will be seeing better while standing
And I could take a step or two for all to see
See, Moses was my comfort zone
I stayed sure with him until he was wrong
Now he’s gone
And I need to be strong
And courageous
And bold
Because that’s what I was meant to be all along
I had been with my 100 sheep
All obedient, no strays attached
But see the wild beast came and took one
So should I go for that lost obedient one
Or stay with the 99
98, 87, 56, 4, 3, 2,1 until I realize that I washed once again, wrong
We mistake mediocrity for moderation and vice versa
We prefer to sleep all day and be obsessed because it’s easy
than to work with our bare hands and buy a new car
No new signs!
And just as water is a good servant and a wicked master so is that comfort zone of yours
For whatever stops moving, starts moving back
And the frog that gets cozy with a warming water, gets boiled in the end
So sit, then crawl, then stand and walk, then look and leap and jump, or fly and soar
Before walking to your new seat really fulfilled
Cause, our sole purpose is to leave our restful zone to our purposed zone
Which is certain to give great comfort,
And It’s cool to work within your comfort zone but know when to leave
Cause there’s more to life than just sitting
Once!
We’re desire to become bold and courageous and strong
Azubuike Chinonso
©2019
It will always come regularly
Anxiety & fear bringing all its disorderly
Sending minds sinking deep like anchors
And hearts into a place of rancour
Economies crashing like MMMs
Shorter mornings, Longer PMs
Success books now providing alternates
As we search for wealth secrets
Yet our Souls are still dry deserts
Aching with pain, looking for comforts
Even when prayers rise up like incense
And our expectations, filled with suspense
Yet the wait is just too long
Our faith might not be that strong
But then incense will becomes clouds
Roaring like lions making sounds so loud
Then It comes
Pouring down its blessings
Wiping off all our facings
The rain draining our Sorrows
Fill souls that have been hallow
Washing away all our pains
Making crazy minds, accurate and sane
Our prayers are never in vain
Because we are sure it will RAIN!
Uba Victor Isoje
© 2018
Christ a poet 