Poet and Didn't Know It?

Joshua · #1 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 10:45 PM

Any Poets here on the PB?

PuritanBouncer · #2 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 10:45 PM

I dabble in it.

Joshua · #3 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 10:46 PM

Ahhh....any inspiration from all that gratuitous hair?

Sorry....you know I'm just joshing ya, right?

PuritanBouncer · #4 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 10:49 PM

Here is one I wrote, if you see any bad theology in it let me know so I can change it! I wrote it before I discovered the doctrines of grace!

I HATE SIN!

I sit and watch it enslave you
As you unknowingly give in
You think it is your freedom
I know it is your end!
You only want to have fun
To laugh, to run and play
But every chuckle kills you
Every thrill pushes you away
Grace is here and calls you
But you take advantage of its call
You think you´re standing steady
Yet I am forced to watch you fall
I want so bad to save you
But that is not my place
I can only show you
How I shall run this race
If my example and testimony
Is not enough to make you ponder
I´ll be forced to remain here in my pain
As you only continue to wander
I will forever pray for your condition
And trust in the Spirit
But a fear resides within me
That you will never hear it
Jesus is true freedom
He is the peace you so sincerely seek
Yet you think it is your friendships
It´s that thought that makes me weep
I shall forever love you
No judgment from me will come
But He is the one who judges
The one who´s yet to come
Yes, He is returning
Maybe any day
I hope you that you shall hear Him
Please do not walk away
I cannot explain more fully
I have time and again
I love you oh so dearly
But oh HOW I HATE SIN

Joshua · #5 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 11:06 PM

Quote:

Originally posted by houseparent
Here is one I wrote, if you see any bad theology in it let me know so I can change it! I

This is ONLY because you asked:

"Grace is here and calls you
But you take advantage of its call"

If the person you're addressing ultimately rejects Christ, then grace never called. However, if you're leaving the poem open ended to the addressee ultimately submitting to Christ's lordship, then the above is fine.

"He is the peace you so sincerely seek"

Same as above. If they ultimately reject, then they were not sincerely seeking Christ. "Jeremiah 29:13 You will seek me and find me. When you seek me with all your heart,"

But really, those are fine. Good stuff.

VirginiaHuguenot · #6 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 11:09 PM

I have self-published some poems.

The following is a sonnet written in 1988:

Innocence Revisited

Beneath a salty sky we roamed the Land:
Though slow in steps we reached the open Sea,
Where sapphires mirror fortunes of the free,
Who fly away from loving those at hand,
And with the sun still overhead, the sand
Seemed warm enough then to assail our fears.
The stars that night were black; each hour tears
Were seen there by the flame a cold wind fanned.
Until, at last, Dawn broke -- an old friend's guide
And a red sky in mourning. Ship Redeemed
Then with the wind, prevailed against a tide
We danced. Her tempests flare, but Fortune deemed
A compass in our sails, which cannot hide
The shores we seek with Cygnus in our dreams.

PuritanBouncer · #7 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 11:11 PM

Quote:

Originally posted by joshua

Quote:

Originally posted by houseparent
Here is one I wrote, if you see any bad theology in it let me know so I can change it! I

This is ONLY because you asked:

"Grace is here and calls you
But you take advantage of its call"

If the person you're addressing ultimately rejects Christ, then grace never called. However, if you're leaving the poem open ended to the addressee ultimately submitting to Christ's lordship, then the above is fine.

"He is the peace you so sincerely seek"

Same as above. If they ultimately reject, then they were not sincerely seeking Christ. "Jeremiah 29:13 You will seek me and find me. When you seek me with all your heart,"

But really, those are fine. Good stuff.

Thanks Josh!

It's about our daughter. She accepted Christ a few years ago and I know she believes, but she does not live for Him much at all.

Thus the peom.

Joshua · #8 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 11:12 PM

This is a poem I posted in a different thread:

Choiceless

Ripped out from within, one limb at a time
Your mouth could not scream, it was not yet defined
Were you a soul"¦or were you just tissue?
A choice or a murder"”which of these were you?

By the "œchoice" of your mother, you were given no choice
No cry for mercy, no plea could you voice
Her right to murder given at expense of your life
Your head, your body, your limbs to the knife

Your choice was stolen, usurped by your mother´s
A sinful, shameful, disregard for others
Self-absorbed, her pomposity disdained
The value of life that God had ordained

Stillborn at birth, dead in her sin
Given juncture, she´d slaughter again
Insolent, obstinate, wicked, and rogue
Captive to Satan, cut off from the fold

Tempestuous land, embracing its sin
Yet you´ve a remnant chosen within
God preserve those yet in the womb
And in Thy glory, come back soon

by Josh Hicks

[Edited on 12-5-2004 by joshua]

Joshua · #9 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 11:13 PM

Quote:

Originally posted by VirginiaHuguenot
I have self-published some poems.

The following is a sonnet written in 1988:

Innocence Revisited

Beneath a salty sky we roamed the Land:
Though slow in steps we reached the open Sea,
Where sapphires mirror fortunes of the free,
Who fly away from loving those at hand,
And with the sun still overhead, the sand
Seemed warm enough then to assail our fears.
The stars that night were black; each hour tears
Were seen there by the flame a cold wind fanned.
Until, at last, Dawn broke -- an old friend's guide
And a red sky in mourning. Ship Redeemed
Then with the wind, prevailed against a tide
We danced. Her tempests flare, but Fortune deemed
A compass in our sails, which cannot hide
The shores we seek with Cygnus in our dreams.

PuritanBouncer · #10 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 11:13 PM

I may not be as "deep" as Andrew :bigsmile:

VirginiaHuguenot · #11 (**permalink**) 12-04-2004, 11:14 PM

Here's another written in 1992 after a trip to Germany during which I stumbled upon a statute of Martin Luther at the ruined Frauenkirche in Dresden in the middle of the night:

Ruine Der Frauenkirche Dresden

Meandering from a bridge over the haunting Elbe,
through the shrouded mist enveloping foreigners,
I was brought to stop and see a judgment of the God
for whom Martin Luther still stands.
No spotlight illuminates this bittersweet memorial --
causing many barren souls to stumble their own way home.
The war is no reminder to them whose guilt is past.
A lamp shined here centuries ago, but of the mass
people are in darkness, which is come upon them
with vengeance. This land of spires, this testimony
to common grace, which I too carry in my heart and more,
is visited, but in the Reichstaag is sanctuary sought;
notwithstanding, the mighty fortress is become
a requiem for protestants.

BlackCalvinist · #12 (**permalink**) 12-05-2004, 12:00 AM

a little non-titled poem I posted on a secular discussion board I was on....

if everything is allowed everything will be done

ain't no new mess or nonsense under the sun

folks used to work through their marriages back in the day

but folks stopped tryin' at all when no fault divorce came their way

'irreconcilable differences' were much easier to bail out over

sick of one person ? bail out and go find another lover

used to be folks waited until marriage to pack up

their stuff and move in with each other.... now they just shack up

because once it became fashionable to do the do sans a ring

people who where down for anything...started to do anything

and when we stopped telling kids to wait until marriage, but simply assumed they were eventually gonna do it, that was giving tacet consent

over the next 20 years, the rate of teen pregnancy exploded 1600%
(that is the actual figure, by the way.....)

so instead of being responsible for their behavior and actin' right

mothers abort inconvienient kids and fathers take flight

which is why you now have one kid with six kids and five baby faahhvuhz....

while the gap between the rich and poor grows farther and farther

and the fatherless kids raised by the street grow to be the criminals

your tax dollars go into fighting crime for, with a reduction in crime being minimal

but it's ok.... 'it's my right to choose', 'we're consenting adults' and 'it's nobody's business but mine'

until YOUR delinquent child from a one night stand has me hemmed up in a corner with his NINE

or you decide to impede upon my free speech and have me arrested for a 'hate crime' against you

simply for preaching the truth about Lev. 18:22

what some folks fail to realize is that this stuff is all connected and related

take a low view of one piece of the puzzle, the whole thing slowly becomes dilapidated

take one card away from the construct, the whole house will fall

and if the collapse isn't abated, you will lose it all

seen it happen already in history with abortion, no-fault divorce and a host of other topics

so you'll pardon my opinion when I say that most of these folks doing this **** need to STOP IT.

[Edited on 5-12-2004 by OS_X]

VirginiaHuguenot · #13 (**permalink**) 12-05-2004, 05:38 PM

If I may be permitted to go slightly beyond the intent of this thread, I thought it was worth noting that today is the anniversary of the death of James Hyslop, affectionately known as the "Poet of the Covenant." He died on December 5, 1827. The following is perhaps his most famous poem:

THE CAMERONIAN´S DREAM

In a dream of the night I was wafted away
To the muirland of mist, where the martyrs lay;
Where Cameron´s sword and his Bible are seen
Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green.

"˜Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood,
When the minister´s home was the mountain and wood;
When in Wellwood´s dark valley the standard of Zion,
All bloody and torn "˜mong the heather was lying.

"˜Twas morning; and summer´s young sun from the east
Lay in loving repose on the green mountain´s breast;
On Wardlaw and Cairtable the clear shining dew
Glistened there "˜mong the heath-bells and mountain flowers blue.

And far up in heaven, near the white sunny cloud,
The song of the lark was melodious and loud;
And in Glenmuir´s wild solitude, lengthened and deep,
Were the whistling of plovers and bleating of sheep.

And Wellwood´s sweet valleys breathed music and gladness,
The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness;
Its daughters were happy to hail the returning,
And drink the delights of July´s sweet morning.

But, oh! there were hearts cherished far other feelings,
Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings,
Who drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow,
For they knew that their blood would bedew it to-morrow.

"˜Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying
Concealed "˜mong the mist where the heath-fowl was crying;
For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering,
And their bridle-reins rang through the thin misty covering.

Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheathed,
But the vengeance that darkened their brow was unbreathed;
With eyes turned to heaven, in calm resignation,
They sang their last song to the God of Salvation.

Though in mist and in darkness and fire they were shrouded,
Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded.
Their dark eyes flashed lightning, as, firm and unbending,
They stood like the rook which the thunder is rending.

The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming,
The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming,
The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling,
When in Wellwood´s dark muirlands the mighty were falling.

When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended,
A chariot of fire through the dark clouds descended;
Its drivers were angels on horses of whiteness,
And its burning wheels turned on axles of brightness;

A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining,
All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining:
And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation,
Have mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation.

On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding,
Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding.
Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before ye,
A crown never fading! a kingdom of glory!

- James Hyslop

VirginiaHuguenot · #14 (**permalink**) 12-06-2004, 01:47 PM

Here's another that I wrote in 1993:

The Desire of All Nations (cf. Haggai 2.7)

Tongues shall be redeemed
And Calvin's land sing
Psalms again esteemed
Unto Christ our King

Jesu, who from the throne
Doth in heaven reign
Loves to hear his own
Glorify his name

But Zion's walls breached
The world now dark lies
Revolution preached
Wicked men arise

Evil is called good
Not thy law defined
Yet shall kings who should
Kiss the Son divine

God, thine own cause plead
Hear those prayers of old
Do thy people lead
Glory to unfold

Thy plan consummate
Return to acclaim
The praise shall be great
On earth to thy name

VirginiaHuguenot · #15 (**permalink**) 12-03-2005, 04:03 PM

Quote:

Originally posted by VirginiaHuguenot
If I may be permitted to go slightly beyond the intent of this thread, I thought it was worth noting that today is the anniversary of the death of James Hyslop, affectionately known as the "Poet of the Covenant." He died on December 5, 1827. The following is perhaps his most famous poem:

THE CAMERONIAN´S DREAM

In a dream of the night I was wafted away
To the muirland of mist, where the martyrs lay;
Where Cameron´s sword and his Bible are seen
Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green.

"˜Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood,
When the minister´s home was the mountain and wood;
When in Wellwood´s dark valley the standard of Zion,
All bloody and torn "˜mong the heather was lying.

"˜Twas morning; and summer´s young sun from the east
Lay in loving repose on the green mountain´s breast;
On Wardlaw and Cairtable the clear shining dew
Glistened there "˜mong the heath-bells and mountain flowers blue.

And far up in heaven, near the white sunny cloud,
The song of the lark was melodious and loud;
And in Glenmuir´s wild solitude, lengthened and deep,
Were the whistling of plovers and bleating of sheep.

And Wellwood´s sweet valleys breathed music and gladness,
The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness;
Its daughters were happy to hail the returning,
And drink the delights of July´s sweet morning.

But, oh! there were hearts cherished far other feelings,
Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings,
Who drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow,
For they knew that their blood would bedew it to-morrow.

"˜Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were lying
Concealed "˜mong the mist where the heath-fowl was crying;
For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were hovering,
And their bridle-reins rang through the thin misty covering.

Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheathed,
But the vengeance that darkened their brow was unbreathed;
With eyes turned to heaven, in calm resignation,
They sang their last song to the God of Salvation.

Though in mist and in darkness and fire they were shrouded,
Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded.
Their dark eyes flashed lightning, as, firm and unbending,
They stood like the rook which the thunder is rending.

The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming,
The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming,
The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling,
When in Wellwood´s dark muirlands the mighty were falling.

When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended,
A chariot of fire through the dark clouds descended;
Its drivers were angels on horses of whiteness,
And its burning wheels turned on axles of brightness;

A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining,
All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining:
And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation,
Have mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation.

On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding,
Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding.
Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before ye,
A crown never fading! a kingdom of glory!

- James Hyslop

* bump *

Scott Bushey · #16 (**permalink**) 12-03-2005, 04:58 PM

Here's my poetry:

I spot painted yesterday
Fixed the fence gate so the gators can't get in my pool;
hung 2 ceiling fans that were purchased 5 years ago,
I'm not really an electrician, but as well, not a fool.
Still have to put in some flood lights in the back,
the front yard as well,
I would possibly get more done if I wasn't so inclined to yack.
I look in the mirror and can't believe how old I have become........
The mirror is the same mirror I looked into 32 years ago.
It has a spot, much like my face.
I look in that mirror a lot less these days.

THE END

Peter · #17 (**permalink**) 12-03-2005, 07:08 PM

David Dickson was a poet

http://www.newblehome.co.uk/dickson/poetry.html

http://www.covenanter.org/DDickson/hdrops.html

VirginiaHuguenot · #18 (**permalink**) 12-03-2005, 08:56 PM

Quote:

Originally posted by Peter
David Dickson was a poet

http://www.newblehome.co.uk/dickson/poetry.html

http://www.covenanter.org/DDickson/hdrops.html

I love Covenanter poetry.

Cottonball · #19 (**permalink**) 12-03-2005, 11:05 PM

I must take the opportunity to make a joke at Cotton Mather's expense. He thought he was a poet, and his sincerity is certainly remarkable, but...

I think my favourite Cotton Mather quotation is from his poem about Ezekiel Cheever:

"Ink is too vile a liquor, but rather liquid gold
Should fill the pen by which these tales are told!"

See why I like him so much? There's a Cotton Mather quotation for every mood!

[Edited on 12-4-2005 by Cottonball]