PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When injustice tangles my

lifeline

between here

and what is real,

I awaken to 

the ordinary,

the everyday,

the devotion of

mountain laurels—

how could I have 

missed them?

And the robins

throwing flames around 

their twisted villages,

the hemlock

like ghostly brides:

it all appears

when the mind and the

rain-washed air

are one,

when the wind is

theater I want to

know personally— 

a gateway to the 

Otherworld or just

a better form

of now,

where the scent is

feverish activity,

where countless 

tiny lives join

countless others in the 

single goal to 

just be here.

They know what ambition is,

and it has nothing to do

with the things

I care about.

And now they are

drawing me into

their tin chants,

their sky, their love,

their beliefs,

now rage is a waste

of limited strength in a 

limited life,

resentment just

another hissing spark

on the river that 

spits out the

fallen sky

and grumbles for me,

and I wonder if it's wise

to pray while the

river is teaching,

and if God, 

who loves in a way 

I never could, wrote

this epic of birth and death

and mystery in between,

then how should I speak

when the oaks

said it best

long before I was born?

So I'll enter the

silence

and sit in a chapel

of grass

along with the crane who

thinks he is God,

and a thousand sun-gorged

quiet marvels,

and I'll step out of my

old shattered self

and stare and please God

with my wonder,

till the earth is small

again— 

a cluster of jewel tones

and souls

sharing the vastness,

a prayer

from this point of view.

Patricia Joan Jones 

Have you ever noticed as you watch people going about their day…

how everyone no matter where they live or who they are…prays in their own way?

Some people fall to their knees, others pray from a religious seat

some fold their hands, others lift them up

some say a blessing before they eat.

Some raise the roof in joyous salute and shout their prayers out loud

others say their prayers more quietly…hands together…their heads bowed.

Some pray when they are driving…or running

others pray at a slower gate,

Some pray so quietly no one can hear them…

Some people meditate.

Some people fly their prayer flags, 

and everybody knows

those who have pictures of their God hanging in their house

whose eyes follow you wherever you go.

A God may or may not be involved

for I believe anytime you share

your hopes or your dreams with the universe…

this is a form of prayer.

Praying is universal…it’s a wish you hope will travel far

It could be praying to a God…or wishing on a star.

If this is true…that everyone prays

then in this way aren’t we all linked?

Wouldn’t this mean that all of us

are more alike than we may think?

It is my wish our world will come to understand this…

some time…some place…some day….

and that our praying will unite us…

for this…is what I pray.

When I was young I attended Catholic school...but while there, along the way

My God was beaten out of me, yet for some reason...I still pray?

I see religions fostering hostility and no longer am I awed

As I watch people hate, maim and kill each other all in the name of god..and still I pray.

I hear young girls and boy kidnapped into sex trafficking…and I think how can this be?

I see refugees around the world so afraid they have to flee…and still I pray.

I see leaders threatening war…do they know this is not a game?

I hear hatred spewing from our leaders mouths…and I feel sad…I feel ashamed…and still I pray.

I see countries, after centuries of war, whose arsenals of death each day increase

Continuing to believe after all this time that war can lead to peace...and still I pray.

I see people destroying or polluting many of our resources here on Earth 

who forget, or worse don’t care, about its value or its worth..and still I pray.

I see bullying so pervasive it’s leading children to suicides

I see dictators abolishing human rights, I see massacres and genocides...and still I pray

For beneath this shroud of sorrow, in a world that’s tearing itself apart

I see many people who prove our world still has honor...still has heart.

There is a constant struggle between good and evil and though evil gets more press

Perhaps as each new day begins we need to reassess.

Evilness is more pervasive, more obvious...it’s a more visible paradigm

Goodness is more subtle, more inconspicuous and takes a little time.

If you’re keeping score between good & evil and what people of the world are choosing

I can’t be sure, but I think right now, it’s goodness that is losing.

But perhaps one day goodness will prevail...yes...perhaps one day...

Hoping good will overwhelm the bad...ah...perhaps that’s why I pray.

God I need your Grace today, to lead me, to guide me, to show me the way.

And it's through my Lord Jesus Christ that Heavenly Father I pray, and ask

For your Grace today. As I walk in this world of uncertainty and fear, Father

Your Heavenly voice I need to hear, to stop my mumbling, my stumbling, 

And my short coming. To know when to open my mouth and know what to 

Say, how to use my words and how to pray.

And this is why, I ask for your Grace today. It's through you Lord Jesus that

My way has been sealed because By your stripes I am healed. And by your

Grace i get complete relief but I need you also Lord to Help my unbelief.

Then I stand confident, tall and strong for by your Heavenly Grace I know

I can't go wrong. Because in this world of violence and when I don't feel

Safe, I know I can pray to you Lord and you will increase my faih.

Now this life can be a real struggle, so I can pray again and you will 

Keep me out of trouble. For every day I am put to the test, it's by your

Grace that I can over come and enter into your rest. It's through you 

Lord Jesus that my Blessing are coming like a flood and it's because I've

Been redeemed by your precious blood. So again I ask you God for your

Grace today and it's through my Lord Jesus Christ, that Heavenly Father

you have made the way.

By MilMan   Inspired By Joyce Meyer. 

A will to remain yourself

With a world

Screaming in your ear.

A need to laugh

As the bodies pile around you

And all that can be heard

Are the cries of those who survived

To warm ones heart

with a furnace of hope.

When the ice has almost

Taken you completely.

To burn with anger

The unjust bindings

Which tie your hands.

To be shed from the tree

And gently fall to the earth

With pride in your heart.

To reach the few with warmth

Who see the shadow

And grow cold

To place stones beneath

The ones who have lost their footing

So they may stand with courage

On their own two feet.

To go unnoticed, unrewarded

So that  your motives

Will always be pure.