Share your poetry with us...

Riding For The Brand

In the world today filled with chaos and disaray
We need to be riding for the brand and learning to pray.
In the old west everyone knew the importance of a brand.
It was the mark a rancher used to burn on his stock out on the open land.

The term "Riding For The Brand' was an expression of loyalty to a man's employer.
It was a compliment of the highest order.
Christians should be riding for the two-one-two brand
In order to stand tall across the land.

The Two-One-Two brand is very direct and to the point.
It signifies two nailed scared hands, one spear in His side, and two more nail scars in his feet.
And this was done so that you and me He could anoint.

Riding For The Brand is of the highest calling.
For it signifies the name of the Lord who's love is unfalling.
When Christians begin to understand the privilage and responsibility of wearing the Lord's brand.
They will give it nothing less than their best and spread it across the land.

So the next time you face a situation that tempts you to compromise. Take a stand for the brand and fight Satan and all his lies.
It's not easy and it's not alway fun.
But Riding For The Brand is what we owe God's only Son.



Pastor Mark A. Mitchell
Copyright 1994

 

This is a good idea. I love poetry (or any type of literature for that matter). Though I am not very good at writing it I have from time to time done so as a personal expression of worship. Here are a couple I have written:

THE PRESENCE OF THE RISEN CHRIST

Though humanity does not see it,
Though sinners will deny it,
And fools will mock it,
Christ’s presence is still there.

In sunlight and storm clouds, in
Daytime and in darkness,
In blessing and in sorrow,
Christ’s presence is still there!

Deep in the lowest valleys, and
High upon the loftiest mountains;
Within seasons of suffering, and
Seasons of peace,
Christ’s presence is still there!

It is the joy of the redeemed,
And the terror of the unrepentant;
It is the life of the Christian and
The judgment of the wicked,
It is the presence of the Risen Christ!

Never ceasing, He has always been,
From eternity to eternity;
There at Creation, there at the Judgment,
The Alpha and the Omega- beginning and end,
He is the Risen Christ!

Worship Him for His power!
Glorify Him for His purpose!
Worship Him in His presence!
Worship the Risen Christ!

BECAUSE THE FATHER DID NOT SPARE HIM

Because He did not spare Him;
The Father placed Him there...

Because He did not spare Him;
My sins held Him there...

Because He did not spare Him;
Oh how he suffered there…

On Calvary’s cruel tree!

How could this be?
The great Father, He Who loved His only Son
With love beyond degree
Deliver Him, bruise Him, kill Him
For a sinner such as me?

And to what cause was this sacrifice made?
That of which the world has not seen before
Nor will see again?
Alas I see it was ot because of what He had done,
but Because of my great sin!

My mind can not comprehend,
My mouth can not answer,
My heart can not tell,

Yet this I know…

Because He did not spare Him;
Redemption’s work is done

Because He did not spare Him;
Justified I stand

Because He did not spare Him;
Glorified I’ll be

Because He did not spare Him;
Death met it's great defeat

What shall I say?
What can I do?
Such love to repay!

The Father did not spare Him;
His grace to manifest

The Father did not spare Him;
That glorified He'd be!

The Father did not Spare Him;
And now exalted He stands

May my praise be continually a song of
Exceeding joy!

Because…

The Father did not spare Him

 

You guys all have christian poery, and so far I haven't written anything christian. Heres one I did a few years ago, it is copyrighted as it was also published. All the others are love poetry, not your kind of thing I think


Falling Leaves

I watched the wind blow today.
Or rather the results of the wind blowing.
It blew through the dry dead leaves on the ground.
It mixed them all together as they tumbled over each other.
It even lifted a few up into the air, there they met with other leaves
blown off the same trees by that same wind as they made their journey,
slowly spinning downward.
Together they landed on a bed of leaves waiting for them.

Leaves trurning brown, past their prime, once brilliant green,
turned to an even more brillant array of color.
Brilliant colors of a past hope, you see, they weren't
dying and slowly drifting to their death. They were dead
alread, from the moment they turned their brilliant color
they began to die, the color merely their last fight for
life, dead when they slipped from the tree that birthed
them. Going the way of all other leaves before them, vicitms
of circumstane I should think.
I watched the wind blow today.

Donna Davis

 

You are welcome

 

Here's one I wrote this Christmas. I have published three books of my poetry now, which can be found at www.lulu.com. Just search for my name, William Reber. Hope you enjoy this one.​

Going Home

(A well-known song says there’s no place like home for the holidays,
but on that point I have to totally disagree. . .)​

It’s the place where you are always welcome,
No matter the time or the season,
Where the people there will always love you,
Where you can go for any reason:
Home! We all know exactly what it means!
There’s Mom and Dad, and sisters and brothers,
Uncles and aunts, cousins, even close friends,
And all sorts of significant others.

But there IS something even better than that!
Think how it will be on the Final Day,
When Christ Jesus returns to take us HOME!,
To live in peace, with Him forever to stay.
HOME!Not just for the Christmas season,
But for eternity, with angels and saints, saved
From all the ages, worshipping our God
On the streets that with gold He has paved!

There will be no tears, no fighting, no grief;
There will be singing and praising of the Name
Above all names, songs from the ages sung aloud
With one desire from all – to honor His fame!
No evil, no sin, will ever bother us again,
And, together, folks from every nation and group
Will work, play, and sing to the Glory of God,
And each child of God is part of His troop.

But the best is yet to be announced. . .
The Lord God Almighty will be there,
And we, His children, will live with Him
Forever, together, with never a care!
HOME! Then we shall know Him fully,
And we will fully know what was done
To be saved by our God, chosen by Him,
To be HOME! forever, with Jesus the Son.

 

i haven't really decided what mines about, except life. my love poetry is clean, but I don't think I'd feel right sharing them here.

 

Is this all of us who write poetry? No wonder the world is going down!:laugh: :laugh:

Come on, folks, show us what you've written! Here's another of mine:

Fog Fountain​

As the fog lifted, beauty abounded . . .
White frosted tree limbs drooped down,
Framed by a brilliant blue sky.
It seemed like a frozen fountain might be,
A most beautiful sight for us to see.
The frost glittered in the sunlight,
And even the tree trunks looked great!
Yet another tribute to the Master Artist’s skill!

©2009 William L. Reber​

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Too bad the picture I based this on is too big to put on BB!​

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Bill :godisgood: ​

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Now we can put pictures on BB. At the top of the page, click "Community", then click "Pictures & Albums". Check out my pics, including the Fog Fountain!

Bill

 

DONNA! I did NOT know you wrote! That is awesome and just my style. Lovely work, please share more!

 

Still

Still

Though Spring has yielded to Summer Sun
And Summer to Autumn's harvests of grain
Though Winter has put on her frosted coat
Still you, my Savior, reign

As snow sparkles on this frozen desert
And Sun strives to warm this land in vain
While searching I wander yet do know
Still you, my Savior, reign

The iron grasp of Cold now hugging fierce
Threads through dense forest and icy plain
Breath is frozen and chill runs too deep
Still you, my Savior, reign

Look to the sky with just one final breath
Iced hands in silver have my body slain
Her claim untrue, I rise to you because
Still you, my Savior, reign.

© 2009 Gina Locke

I wrote this while living in North Pole, Alaska.

Interior Alaska is a beautiful place and very inspiring! This poem was written as a tribute to the intense bond one can feel with both nature and the spiritual while in the midst of this awesome state. I am not speaking of a literal death in the end, although if one wants they could read it as such. (and out here, freezing to death does happen on a regular basis!) It is more of a death towards that which we do not need. It is easy to become independent and think we do not need God. This poem is my way of expressing that no matter what the season or circumstance, my Savior reigns and I want that to always be. It is AMAZING that no matter what happens, no matter what failures there are, how disappointing, joyful, or mundane circumstances may be, God is THERE for us! We're these little insignificant ants crawling around, capable of being wiped out, frozen to death in minutes, eaten by a beast, ran over by a car, whatever...and instead of seeing us as such, He raises us up as His sons and daughters. AMEN!

 

Things like this rarely happen to me. But I do have one other poem that was also published, like I said, it is a love poem though. This is by far the nicest one.
I know absolutely nothing about writing, just what sounds good to me.

 

Anyone who talks or reads knows something about writing...even if just by default.
Sounds like what you have is a natural gift. You surprise me pretty good every once in a while, woman! What else do ya got up your sleeve as far as hidden talents? :thumbs:

 

Gina, I love your poem! Thanks for sharing it.

Bill :godisgood:

 

I wrote this poem when I became a Canadian in the 70's:

What is a Canadian? I want to know.
I ask continually, but no one knows.
Some say they were born here,
And that makes them so. Others, They just came here, and that
Makes them so.

What is a Canadian? I want to know.
If he exists, how does he know?
He has a paper that says it's so,
But in his heart, does he really know?
It seems we are a scattered bunch,
Each to his own apart.

What is a Canadian? I want to know.
This country's natives do not claim,
Except the land is their domain.
There must be more than a domicile,
To be Canadian without shame.

What is a Canadian? I want to know.
I know, he once was proud, the
Maple Leaf to show abroad. But now,
I wonder, and sometimes aloud,
What is a Canadian? I want to know.

Cheers,

Jim

 

LOL Bill! I guess the world is a little big for a single photo, but thanks for inspiring me to go look outside!

Here's another one from me too...I usually don't share my freeverse on this board because people here seem to like more disciplined styles, but what can I say...I'm a stinkin' liberal! :laugh: I've never found anyone who thought much of this one, but of everything I've written, poetry or otherwise, this is my favorite.

Chasing Glory



This is what I offer:
My heart, my soul, my desire
Body, mind, and spirit.
There's just one catch.
It's framed in humanity
Frail, weak, responsive
To lusts of the flesh
Thoughts of the illogical
That which you hate.
You created me human
With divine expectations
I will never fulfill
Cannot fulfill
While breath is in me
Yet this is your command.
To believe is to obey
So I rise to your challenge
Only to fall to the earth
Once again part of the dust
As was before life was formed
Is it more natural to return
To the terrestrial or to yours?
The struggle drags on
You the spotless lamb
I the black sheep, your shadow
Finding merit only through you
Who veils himself invisible
Calling yourself light
While I follow in the dark
My grasping thoughts pursuing
The unattainable glory of you.

© 2008 Gina Locke