Unspoken......a poem

Apologies to the one or two people who may see this. Just needed to try to put some feelings into words. Feel free to ignore this.

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Unspoken

 

How do I express just how I feel?                  

What words can convey my emotions

A blood stain on a page may do

Could depict the pain within me

And show frustration with myself

Confusion, failure, longing

Only floods of tears – contained unshed

And bottled deep inside me

Can write with dark invisible ink

To describe the heart within me

 

A couple of Poems from a place of struggle

A prayer

 

Inside is a fetid place

Firmly shut and bolted

Where all the rubbish in my life

Has just been quietly posted.

The stuff that makes me burn with shame

Embarrassment and heartache

The things I would rather forget

That wouldn’t fit my image.

It is a dark and smelly place

But now it must be opened.

For you alone can clean this mess

This putrid rotten dungeon.

I’m sorry, Lord that you should see

And have to bear this burden.

I come to you so helplessly

Only your blood can cleanse

This mess I now to you surrender

Please cleanse, forgive and heal me

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Don’t lose me

 

Lord don’t lose me as I drown again

As I sink beneath this gloom of sin

Forgive me, oh my Lord, I pray

Restore, refresh, direct my way

Help me to taste again the joy

Of knowing that your love is sure

Of walking close beside you Lord

Holding your hand, my father God.

And even in this deep dark space

Of mixed emotions, of toxic waste

Help me to know your presence still

Don’t let me stray outside your will

 

 

 

 

 

 

A couple more poems

Just a couple more poems, now I am back in the swing of getting into my blog page. The first one was a prayer during one of those times when the black dog of depression had me baled up in the corner again a little while ago.

The second one, 'Come Follow', sort of wrote itself the other day. I had been having my quiet time the reading was in John, where Jesus talks about being the good shepherd, and his sheep recognising his voice. In the reading notes I was using the writer asked the question, 'what is distinctive about Jesus voice'. It sort of got me thinking about how I would recognise his voice, how would I or do I know it is him, and how can I hear above the busy noises of work and weariness.

 

I hope any of the 2 or 3 people who read this blog might find these poems touch a spot somewhere in their hearts.

 

 

 

A prayer from the Pit 

Sadness Lord

Sadness and sorrow

Weariness Lord

Weariness and pain

Weeping Lord

Weeping and heartbreak

Help me Lord

I’m in the pit again.

Praying Lord

Praying and hoping

Reaching Lord

Reaching out to you

Pleading Lord

Pleading you’ll here me

Waiting Lord

Waiting for you

 

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Come follow

Hush child, be still, come follow

I am with you, I will not leave

I will never fail or desert you

Be still, come listen, come sit awhile with me

I know the clamour, I hear the noise

I know the things that worry you

I know your sin, it is forgiven

Forgive yourself, stand up and follow.

Be still little child, be still love of mine

I am here, always near

Come hold my hand do not fear,

You are mine, you belong

Come follow

 

 

 

 

 

a couple more poems

Someone mentioned today that they hadn't seen any blogs from me for awhile, I hadn't realised anyone had seen them except for one friend. So anyway here are a couple more poems especially for my two known readers.

THE HEM OF HIS ROBE

 

Empty, drained, exhausted she came

To touch the hem of his robe.

Secretly quietly and very afraid

She crept to his side in the crowd.

Hoping that no one would notice and see

Hoping this really would work,

Trembling in anticipation and fear

She reached for the hem of his robe.

Immediately, instantly she knew she was healed

And quietly started to go,

When he turned and demanded with authority

“Who touched me? I felt the power flow.”

Trembling again, mingling shame, fear and hope

She tentatively whispered “’twas I”

“I needed you; you were my last only hope”

“I touched the hem of your robe.”

With compassion he looked at the woman and said

“Go in peace child, your faith makes you whole.”

 

Empty, drained and exhausted I come

To touch the hem of his robe.

I just want to quietly creep to his side,

I need him to heal – make me whole.

As I reach out with weak trembling hand to take hold

And touch the hem of his robe

I realise that like that woman before

He won’t let me just turn and go.

He wants me to know that he cares for me too.

He wants me know of his love.

He wants me to know he’s aware who I am.

It’s faith in him alone makes me whole.

 

 

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Will I let you wash my feet?

 

Will I let you wash my feet?

Could I let you stoop to serve?

Or Would I feel as Peter did

“Not my feet Lord” could be my words

Yet you show your servant heart

Though you are mighty Lord and King

And you have bid us copy you

To stoop and serve the way you do.

Then we, with humble heart will wash

The aching, dirty feet of those

Who come with trembling fearful hearts

And need so much your love to know.

If we with love reach out to them

Our fellow travellers on life’s road

We do in fact bless Jesus’ heart

We serve our own beloved Lord

Yet, harder still we sometimes find

When others serve us in this way

We squirm away from helping hands

When we with grace should really say

Thank you Lord for sending us

These loving hands to ease our way