| Author |
Message |
Max
| | Posted on Wednesday, January 31, 2001 - 5:14 pm: |     |
YOUíVE GONE AWAY AND LEFT ME, AND I
DONíT KNOW WHY . . . . .
Everywhere I look I see you. In the clouds
above. In the dust below. In the ruined face of
my mother.
In the contorted faces of the conference
presidents, the professors and the ministers,
mocking me. Why canít I see the devilís face
there? Why must it be yours?
The setting sun is the dying heart in the great
open wound in the sky. Bleeding red all over
heaven. All over earth. The jagged teeth of the
carpenter's saw skyline formed by the
mountain tops above Jerusalem have cut it.
Have cut me. The pain from the nails in my
wrists and my feet and the spear hole in my
side and the thorn punctures in my head is
nothing. Better than nothing. It is a soothing
balm there to mask the pain in my soul, in my
heart.
But it canít.
Because you have left me, O My God! And I
donít know why . . . . .
And here -- look at me, will you? -- Iíve done all
you wanted me to do.
But it doesnít matter. Youíve gone and left me
anyway. And I donít know why . . . . .
I would rise from the grave just to see your
face.
But youíve gone and left me anyway. And I
donít know why . . . . .
My God! I love you so much! And youíve gone
and left me anyway. And I donít know why . . . . .
I did what you asked. I told them, told them all
-- Give yourselves to love. Your love, O God!
And youíve gone and left me anyway. And I
donít know why . . . . .
I saved them, saved them all. And now, listen
to them. They know I did, but they say, ìHe
saved others, but he canít save himself! Heís
the King of Israel! Let him come down now
from the cross, and we will believe in him. He
trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he
wants him!î
But youíre not here to do it. Youíve gone away
and left me. And I donít know why . . . . .
I would rise from the grave just to see your
face. And youíve gone and left me anyway. And
I donít know why . . . . .
The work you gave me to do is finished. And
youíve gone and left me anyway. And I donít
know why . . . . .
Max of the Cross |
Denisegilmore
| | Posted on Wednesday, January 31, 2001 - 6:59 pm: | |
Dear Max,
The emotions in me right now are beyond words. This made an impact on me that I shall never forget.
Thank you for blessing us with this.
Thank you for that beautiful writing of truth.
Blessings to you,
DtB, your sister in Christ Jesus |
Max
| | Posted on Thursday, February 01, 2001 - 5:58 pm: | |
Thank you, Denise. It just spilled out of my
guts. |
Denisegilmore
| | Posted on Saturday, February 03, 2001 - 1:45 am: | |
Dear Max,
You say that it just 'spilled out of my guts,'..to this I can really relate as that is how all my poetry is written.
In fact, if I'm summoned as I was at Christmas, to write a special poem for someone, I am at a loss. Because it isn't a natural thing for me to TRY to write a poem.
For me, it just, as you say, 'spills out.'
Blessings always in our Lord and Savior,
DtB |
Maryann
| | Posted on Saturday, February 03, 2001 - 1:56 am: | |
Hi Denise;-)) |
Denisegilmore
| | Posted on Saturday, February 03, 2001 - 2:01 am: | |
Maryann! :))
What are you doing up at this late hour?? A cup of java again...tsk tsk..:)
Good meeting tonight I'm sure. I had quite an experience today..actually a few of them that I know were of God.
Maybe in an email tomorrow er that is later today, I will share this marvel.
Hello to all in your household and give em hugs from me, will ya?
God Bless you always,
DtB, your sister in Christ, who missed everyone at FAF tonight. |
Snowdove (Snowdove)
| | Posted on Monday, March 04, 2002 - 6:59 pm: | |
I just found this thread and believe it could be an excellent way of sharing feelings so:
Here is a poem that I wrote years ago. I hope you enjoy it. I wrote this when everyone I knew was over indulging in the subject matter.
The Lady
Sheís cold as a winter storm; soothing as a summer breeze.
Sheís sweet to the taste; bitter to the core.
She asks no questions; tells you all lies.
Sheís around when thereís money; gone when thereís none.
She helps conquer your fears; implanting a power that fades.
She knows that you want her; teases you with her dark face.
She will be there all night; her tantalizing odour only there in the morn.
This lady of power is no lady at all;
Death is the name of her soul.
For you see sheís alcohol.
By Sherri Wills (nee: Krammer)
Aka Snow Dove |
Sabra (Sabra)
| | Posted on Tuesday, March 05, 2002 - 7:42 am: | |
Very good Snowdove, I used to write poems a lot but haven't in a very long time. They were always very dark. I think it was my own form of therapy. Here's one from 1986 (My senior year) now yall know I'm OLD!!
I'm inside of a box
I can't see outside
The walls are so close
I can't read them inside
I'd like to step out
Just to see what I'd find
Maybe another, bigger box
With another outside
I might feel I'm free
Like I did once before
But soon I'd outgrow it
And still look for more
Adventure and knowledge
Pierce my box with their claws
But the fear of change
Keeps me inside these walls |
Snowdove (Snowdove)
| | Posted on Tuesday, March 05, 2002 - 1:12 pm: | |
Hi Sabra
Love the poem I've been there to. By the way you can call me Sherri I feel safe now to reveal my name.
I use to write alot of poems when I was young. I had a binder full then my ex-boyfriend 15 years ago burned it all because he said they were no good. He was trying to write songs at the time.
So for about 8 years I never wrote another word untill I met my husband He encourages me. I don't write that often but when the mood strikes me I love to write or draw.
I will dig out some more and share them in a couple of days.
Christian Love
Sherri |
Sabra (Sabra)
| | Posted on Tuesday, March 05, 2002 - 1:29 pm: | |
Thanks Sherri,
Glad you got rid of that LOSER!
I used to write songs too, hmmm made a CD, country-I live in Nashville ya know- got no where with it, now I sing in church instead of the honky-tonks! ha One of my songs was prophetic (joke): Honky tonk or church choir I don't care, if the spot lights on, you know I wanna be there...ha ha can't believe I wrote that stuff! |
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