Tag: help

Thomas

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Seven times Seven times
But once bitten, twice shy is an understatement
The Holy Spirit whispers, ” Quchi shelf your comment. “
We should have asked “What for? “when He said he’d send a comforter
But we assumed what the comfort meant
Though the level of help exceeds our problems
We assume He said everything we needed learnt
And Lord, I need help before my disdain extends

Seventy times seven times
Jesus is the same, soft or hard times
Just watch and pray,
Mean it every second
Our confidence remains “What did The Lord say? “
Clock it
When your eyes are open, then the blind call you blind
We don’t seek the same Lost, theirs cannot find
Relevant irrelevance, what matters is the inside
And forgiveness isn’t mine but the Lord’s side

Four hundred and ninety
I learned not to take things lightly
Everything is part of a pattern from previously
And Christ is both lens and He calibrates me—He will make me
So though I still err being bad at this “Good” thing
And though I still say, “Lord, how can these things be? “
In Spirit and Truth, I will wait and see
The Lord is my scabbard, blade and peace

Godzniel
©2026

Lord, help

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Sometimes I trust, most times I doubt
Sometimes, I trust God in the process
Most times, I doubt that the process will yield my expected outcome
So I pray, “Lord help my unbelief”

TC_writes
© 2025

Chest Knot

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Force yourself to sit.
Force yourself to wait.
Force yourself to trust.
Force yourself to forgive.
Force yourself to laugh.
Force yourself to write.
You can’t help that you fuss yourself—
So force yourself to leave the shelf
and let your path praise the Lord.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
I’m looking for a different satisfaction.
Norm told us to steal and keep eating,
The team disbanded to hunt for new stories,
And the show goes on; the sun circuits still.
I need to practice letting God choose—
For present comfort is no guarantee.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
Footsteps prince me a path through the din.
Hands that held my back now applaud my stumbling—
Speaking of my stumbling:
I was sipping last ones, hoping that the first won.
And the show goes on; the trump is still blown.
All my medals rust before the changing times,
for You, Lord, were my only true possession.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord.
These scars will follow me into victory.
Rooftop farming—aura wasn’t the only fruit.
I have witnessed enough to shrug from a cloud.
Lord, please take the pen again; write me back to right.
Outside Your Word, there was treachery that paralyzed.
For You alone are truth,
and Yours walk beneath a different sky…

…beneath a different why.

Bring me home, bring me home, Lord—
everywhere I am.

Godzniel
©2025

Olorun Onile Oke

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Olorun Onile Oke
God, the stronghold
In a world full of threats
I call you my Abo Oke
The one and only high fortress

The lord my eternal refuge,
Olu ibi Isadi
Your everlasting arms O Tobi Ju

With it you thrusted
Out my enemies from before me,
You silenced the voices That cried out threats

The threats that threatened to break all hell loose until my back hits the ground

You stood your ground In battle until their strongholds did rattle,
Mighty man in battle

Jagun jagun segun
You broke the gates of brass and cut the bars of iron in asunder

At the sound of my cry,
You caused the foundations of the hills to move,

You heard my voice
And the earth trembled,
You kissed away the tears from off my temple

Apata ayeraye,
The rock of ages,
My help,
In ages past,
You bowed down the heavens and came down

And when the thick darkness surrounding me saw you,
It took flight

My high fortress,
Because I have you I don’t even have to fight.

Ebubechi
©2025

BOOK REVIEW: Dear Unloved

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Author: The Christ A Poet Team
Editor: ChyD
Pages: 33
Publisher: The Christ A Poet Concepts Ltd.
Reviewer: Ubamara Ezenobi

The book Dear Unloved lives up to its title.

It is not unusual for human beings to fall into sad states occasionally, and Christians are not left out of the trend. While these tragic states may be caused by a variety of reasons, the different poets that contributed to this work have proffered only one solution: Christ.

Dear Unloved starts with Osione’s Crackhead, where she passionately describes the addictions we all at some point or the other go through with depression. You can see yourself in the words as she skillfully paints the picture of a man helplessly adapting to his companion. As we ride through the waves the poets craft for us with their symphonies, we find the same symptoms recurrent in the seemingly unloved human. Pain. Listlessness. Deep sadness. All of those words tell the same story.

Many of the poems in this book are duets, causing the rich blend of poetry and passion you’ll find within. There’s Project Proposal for example, where ChyD and Imani remind us of Jesus’ finished work at the cross. In their own words, someone already produced results for this problem. Dear Unloved resonates with suspense as the characters go through their own phases of darkness.

It is not often that I get to review a book that leaves me reading through, spellbound. The sentences got my attention. The choice of words left me amazed, and impressed. Ultimately, I started all over again, because I found it good for my soul.

If you’ve ever felt dark times, and if you are in fact going through dark times now, then Dear Unloved was written with your name beating in the hearts of the poets.

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He Beckons

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Where are you man in grief,
In regret of past decisions or locked in brackets of unanswered questions?

Where are you man in lust,
In a pool of vain imagination or full of scorn from last night’s bile?

Where are you man in doubt,
Trapped in a cage of uncertainties or navigating the complexities of your path?

Where are you man in desperate mode,
Awake in your worries or embracing options that don’t serve you?

Where are you man in unbelief,
Crafting your ways or rejecting help from zion?

God’s hands are reaching out
Bekoning…

Accept His comfort through grief and unanswered questions.

He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept his help to break free from that habit.

He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His wisdom to deal with the affairs of men.

He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His peace to calm the raging storm.

He is reaching out, beckoning…
Accept His son that you might have everlasting life.

Imani Dokubo
© 2023

Gethsemane

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The garden reminds me of him

Bowed down, he bore weights too heavy before they ever landed. My Lord knew the battle was fierce to fight and he would not let me suffer. No, he would do the fighting. If this price had to be paid, then he would do the paying.

The garden reminds me of him

The Lord of glory had need for help. Every minute brought him closer and every gesture was a prayer. He that was everyone’s everything had no one’s nothing to journey with him. Alone he must go. A lone seed to be sown.

The garden reminds me of him

Before the curtain fell on sin’s final payment.  Before ever a drop of blood hit the floor. Before stripes parted his skin and men killed the one that healed them. The garden bore witness to my Lord’s humanity. The garden bore witness to this man’s divinity.

The garden reminds me of him

Ezeonyeka Godswill
(C) 2022

A Cry For Help

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Help!
I’m at my wisdom’s end
There are now fewer wisdoms found in my speeches
Words tend to rush out all messed up
Before I remember to clean them up
Making more troubles than giving solutions
Help! Father! I’m at my wisdom’s end
I’d rather your words take hold of my tongue


Help!
Gradually, I am forgetting me
How you see me
How you value me
Living a false life
Is quickly becoming my reality
I find myself lost in doubt
Forgetting you’ve placed me in certainty
Help! Father! I am forgetting me
I’d rather your thoughts about me fill my heart

Help!
I have lost my direction
I think back to be front
And when I try to move
I find out I’m still facing back
My compass isn’t as accurate as I thought it was
It’s broken
Help! Father!
I don’t know where I’m at
But I’m certain you will find me
I’d rather continue this journey with you


Help! Father!
’tis all I can mutter
I no longer have hold over the matter
Father, I know you can hear me
‘Help me!’ Is all I’ve got to say now
Yet, I feel comforted that you do understand
Even more that a thousand words could have explained.
Help! Father!
I really need you.


Pearlythoughtz
© 2022