"Woe"

(Composed in contemplation of
Isaiah 39 in late July 2010).

"It is good news!" declared he.
Many years would safely be
Comfortable in his wanton haze,
'Peace and security in my days.'

Woe to the foolish, selfish king;
Wealth to the winds he did fling!

Rich heritage he threw away;
His own sons he did betray:
Plundered land, dispossessed;
Exiled and harshly oppressed!

Woe to me who would lazily lounge
Forcing others to desperately scrounge!

Seeking comfort, preferring ease,
My fleshly pleasures to appease,
Merely the status quo to maintain,
Ever overlooking others' pain?

Woe to us all if so become we;
I pray, O Lord, may it never be!

"A quiet evening"

(Composed in the stillness
Of July 24, 2010).

The sounds of the night
Sprinkler's mist descends
Distant honk of a passing car
The bark of a neighbor's dog
The muffled rumble of voices
Float from a television set
Palm fronds rustled by the breeze

Candle flickers, lamp is dimmed
Smooth jazz pianist on my iPod plays
While my pen glides across the page

A bit of the city's bustling remains
A few street lights turning yellow
Yet most families are now relaxing
In their homes for a quiet evening
Snuggled in their living rooms
Eating popcorn and watching a film
Perhaps laughing over a hand of cards

On the sofa I recline, journal open
Pondering the water softly trickling
Its gentle whisper in my window

"The sea"

(Composed July 10, 2010).

A mere conglomeration of elements?
Fading blue paint on an old globe?
Or the stage for adventure,
The wild creature, the force
Of which many a poet has writ?
The crashing and splashing
The shimmering waves
Sparkling glow of the sun
Rolling and roaring
The rumble of bass
Terrifying and tranquil
Jet engine, mother's lullaby
The sheer volume, abundance
Ever moving and changing
Oh the mysteries of the deep
The secrets of the expanse
Seemingly infinite, yet bound
Magnificent and strong
Masterpiece of the Potter's Hand!

"Our King"

(In reflection on Ezra, Nehemiah, and
The prophets of old on June 3, 2010).

Exiles return
To city in ruins
Charred remains
Of once golden temple
Dust and ash envelop
The mighty capital
City of King David

Vision of restoration
Rising from the rubble
Strongholds of opposition
Crumble before Almighty God
History's Grand Architect
The Master Builder
Our Carpenter King

Measuring state's boundaries
Plumb Line for the nations
Impaled by the
Tools of His trade
Pierced by the ones
He would save
Our Crucified King

Nailed to the very trees
He imagined in the beginning
Killed by His creatures
Sacrifice for their souls
The divine died
Ineffable mystery
Our Creator King

Resurrected and ascended
Interceding for us now
At the Father's right hand
Seated on His throne
Soon to judge the earth
The Just and the Justifier
Our Coming King

"See"

(Inspired by the words of Isaiah
The prophet on July 7, 2010).

Incline your ear, O Lord, and hear
Open your eyes, O Lord, and see

Stumbling through the curtain,
Clothes torn and covered in ash,
Words echoing in my head:
Who are you?
Why would God care?
You are nothing.
You are alone.
No one sees.

Incline your ear, O Lord, and hear
Open your eyes, O Lord, and see

Tears streaming the paper tumbles
Out of my hand and to the floor.
Head bowed low, I bend my knee:
I am a child of the King.
God does care for me.
I am precious in His sight.
I will never be alone.
God sees all.

Incline your ear, O Lord, and hear
Open your eyes, O Lord, and see

Shouting my prayer to the heavens,
Exhausted, now barely whispering,
Slowly the weight begins to lift,
Gentle peace descends as a dove.
The oppressive haze starts to fade,
Evaporating in the presence of
Light eternal and Love divine.

"Ode to My Alarm Clock"

(Inspired by true events
On Wednesday, June 30, 2010).

O clock of my alarum
Why didst thou not ring
When many a faithful year
Thou didst awakening bring,

From dreams of dark
And slumber deep
To day's warm sun
Thy promises keep?

O clock of my alarum
Why didst thou not ring,
But left me to sleep alone,
World raced without thy ding?

Slept through my shower
Nor time to break my fast
For I awoke to find
'Twas sixty minutes past.

O clock of my alarum
Why didst thou not ring,
But trouble and frustration
As my sheets I did fling?

Alack I hurriedly did race
Past roommates, house, and store,
Mascara and brush in hand,
Left my pillow on the floor.

O clock of my alarum
Why didst thou not ring,
Nor bing, cling, or even ping?
Why didst thou refuse to sing?

For pump the coffee in my veins,
Cold water thou couldst pour,
Yet nothing could jolt me awake
Like you silent clock forevermore!