Train with Yahweh

Teach your Child to pray
Teach your child the way
They are a tool in the Lords arms
So, teach them about Yahweh.

Correct them in love, listen to their heart
Take cues from Gods affection, be merciful when need be
Teach your child to pray, teach your child Gods way
So, when they are old, they do not go astray.

Teach your child to learn the vanity of time
So, they cling not tightly to things that pass away
Help them understand that time goes quickly
So, they do not waste their childhood to playful dirt.

– Jahzrhythm
©2021

He Loves Me

You loved me
Even before I could spell love

You loved me
Before I loved me

You loved me
Before I knew you love me

You loved me still
When I thought bad of your love

You loved me
Before I said ‘I love you too’

You’ve loved me into accepting
That you love me
And that you’ll never stop loving me

I can never really understand
The depth, height and breadth of your love

I am satisfied
with this continuous falling, growing and expanding in love for you
Because I know, I’ll never get to the end of your love’s end

Thank you God for loving me endlessly.

PearlyThoughts
©2021

Life would’ve been a Romance.

Life would’ve been a romance if Adam was home and Eve didn’t try to be woke.
We would’ve walked the length and breath of the earth without being broke.
We would’ve plucked flowers and laid on grassy sheets gazing up at the most beautiful sky.

Life would’ve been a romance if she didn’t want what she already had.
If he was there to remind her what they already are.
He would’ve taken a walk with her deep into the woods; stopping at the zoo and playing a game of ‘catch me if you can’ in the cool. She would’ve taken a drink of water from the purest of rivers and watched the sun set from its bank.
She might’ve been reminded of what they already had.
And we would’ve stayed the same, feeling nothing of shame

Life would’ve been a garden, green with life and red with love.
Children would’ve stayed innocent and grown ups competent.
The wild would’ve not preyed on the tamed.
Evil would’ve not been retained.

Life would’ve been a romance
A walk in the park
A camp around the fire
A picnic at the beach
And a kiss under the stars

Life was meant to be a romance.

Ijeoma Obi
© 2021

Hilltop Life

Life is that way sometimes
Takes you uphill and presents
You with the luxury of returning
to where you first began

Work is that way sometimes
Regardless of your love for the climb
your bent back will boast of burdens borne
and your reward is just another climb

Rest is that way sometimes
It titillates you to the hilltop
Then bores a hole deep in your soul
So you go climbing for her again

Four verses four lines each
Living could be more than hills on threes
Keep making that trip to the top
and sow seeds of you with every step

– Ezeonyeka Godswill
(c) 2021

It was the happiest day of my life

It was the happiest day of my life when I allowed Jesus into my heart. My heart was flooded with joy and unspeakable peace. In Him I found a friend like no one else would ever be. Just like new lovers, I was always seen with Him; talking, praising, worshipping – I couldn’t get enough.

Day by day, he came. He entered the parlour, went into the dining room. Oh, the dining room! There were lots of breaking of bread. He opened my eyes to mysteries. I learned, relearned and unlearned. I just couldn’t get enough. Every minute with Him was priceless.

Until one day, an old friend came knocking. I peeped and asked what he wanted. “Just a few minutes, then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said. My heart told me not to, but his dazzling smile, pleading eyes, and obliging countenance were enough to compel me. He smiled and entered.

He was with me when Jesus came. I quickly hid him in a little room. Jesus came in, looked at me deeply, and asked. “Is there anything you would like to tell Me?”

“No.”

His countenance fell.

Our fellowship was not so sweet. But I bothered not, I was eager to conclude the story I was being told by my old friend.

When I was alone again, I ran. To the small room. Where he was. He invited me to a party the next day. I agreed.

The next day, I felt very awkward at the party. I missed Jesus. But I can’t bring Him here. This is not really His “thing”. As I was contemplating leaving, my old friend came and introduced me to his other friends. Little by little, I warmed up to them. I forgot the time.

When I got home, Jesus was waiting for me at the dining table. “It’s time for our breaking of bread,” He said. I dragged my feet to the table and half listened, half slept. Jesus suddenly stopped. 

“You were late today. Where did you go?” 

“Oh,” I said uneasily. “Out with some friends”.

“Can I come with you next time?”

“Oh no, never mind. It’s not your thing.” 

“So why would you go to a place I can’t go?” He queried.

“I can go wherever I please. I don’t need your permission. I’m done with today’s fellowship. Please let’s meet another time,” I said.

Jesus, my ever-gentle friend, did not argue. He picked up His scroll and left.

It broke my heart to see him go. But I was too proud to call Him back, to tell Him I was wrong.

The next day, I went late again. I dropped a note at the doorknob for Jesus. You can start without me. I will join you soon.

The next week, I dropped another message. Please, Jesus, can you not use the dining room? Some friends are coming over. The guest room is all yours.

On and on it went. I stopped bothering to check the guest room. I was so busy with my old friend and his friends. 

One day, while reveling with my friends, I remembered MY FRIEND. I asked for help, but none came. I dragged myself outside. My old friend came out and saw me. “There’s more for you here. The party’s just begun. Come and join us.”

Then I saw the loop: I was reveling in discontent, reveling in sadness, reveling in emptiness. I shook my head with a firm “NO” and trudged on home. 

The night was cold. The wind bit into my skin. I was tempted to go back but I soldiered on. Home. Jesus. Warmth. 

I got home. Looked in the guest room. Saw Him, with His oil lamp. Waiting for me. As always. He looked up at me. “You came today. Welcome.”

A tear slid down my cheek. I went to Him, knelt and sobbed. No words. “I am here for you, I love you,” He said

Like a lamp bursting forth, I broke down in tears. After an hour of reconciliation, I gave Him some keys.

“What are these for?”

“They are the keys to my home, my heart and everything I have. I surrender it all to you. I can’t control my life right. But you can. So, I surrender all.”

Jesus smiled His oh, so loving smile, touched my head and said.

“All is forgiven. You are free”.

I have never regretted that decision.

EMENIKE CHINWENDU VICTORIA

©2021

The Bleeding Heart

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