Category: Poetry

The Lord’s Day is here!
Wake up, children, and draw near.
The Lord of Hosts awaits us,
to cheer and sustain us,
in his blessed Sabbath Rest,
for in bread and wine we taste his best.

The Word will be spoken,
the power of darkness–broken,
the gates of hell shall tremble,
at the sound of Yahweh’s holy temple.
When infants cry and the aged sing,
enemies are put to flight on the day of the King.

Christmas gives the story of strife,

the joys to the world and the curses of Eden’s life;

Christ came as babe to rifle Satan’s fold,

to upset the power structures of old,

to rebuke demonic powers where’er they may be,

to see the good triumph o’er evil’s futility.

On Christmas Day the kings of earth decried,

their hopes were shattered as the little infant cried,

for the kings of earth failed to see,

that Incarnate truth came to be,

for us, this day, the promised Seed,

Who came to crush the Devil’s power,

And before the Son all evil cowers.

~utb

MERRY TENTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS!

I was in a humorous mood this morning so I thought I’d pen something a bit different. Indeed we need to be grateful to those around us that cause us to laugh. Laughter is good medicine, and it also is a remarkable way to release daily stress.

Humor you have given,
Our stoicism is stricken!
Our boredom is bitten.
As the hearty laughter we express,
At the funniness some possess.

I start and end chiastically with themes from the Lord’s Prayer. In between I connect other Gospel themes combining brightness and treasures and the Christian’s confidence in the unbroken promises of God.

The shared joy of sins forgiven,
the hallowed Name spoken.
The brightness of new life giv’n,
the Word remains unbroken.
The treasures on earth stored and stolen,
the heavenly chest untouched.
The beauty of your kingdom come,
the gates of hell cannot stop.
-Poema, Untold Joys

I hope you are drawn to the simplicity of this poem.

My son, my son, forget me not,
‘Tis you, ’tis you, your Savior bought.
In life, in life, I in you dwell
The hope, the hope, your faith shall tell
From you, from you, I’ll ne’er depart
Because, because, remembering is my art.
-Poema, Sonship

A few years ago I sat with a brilliant thinker. We enjoyed each other’s company. He was wise and experienced. Already a prolific author versed in many fields of study. As we were about to depart, I asked him to impart some wisdom to a young writer. I have published a few small works. But I am the kind of person who comes up with an unending stream of ideas. I want to expand my generalist tendencies. I am the worst kind of visionary who is disciplined in imagination and slow in application.

I asked this scholar what must I do to be saved from being a mediocre writer. He looked at me in utter compassion–slight exaggeration–and said: “Write poetry!” Poetry? I had read my fair share of poems; enough to be familiar with names. But write poetry? So, recently, I listened to this wise saint and have explored a bit in poem writing. Not the kind that grabs the attention of well-versed experts, but the kind of poetry that is simple and child-like; the kind that rhymes with life; the experiential type that communicates not with types and shadows, but simplicity and clarity.

So here is my third:

Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned,
My heart is tender, come within;
Rebuke my pride, bring me low,
And in the valley renew my soul. 
-Poema, Explorations in Christian Piety

Poema 2

Poema 1

The veil is torn.

The fight is ended.

The victor rests.

The devil contended.

The Father spoke.

The Son arose.

The stone removed.

The Gospel proved.

The Word ascended.

His rule unended.

The world awaits.

The dawn shall break.

Eden restored.

The Triune God adored.

Death in its rage the saint does take
Heaven in its rest the saint protects
Jesus in his roar the saint restores
The Gospel by its reach the saint forever keeps.