Tag Archives: Poetry

Focus

Out of a wandering mind.
Away from being idle.
Razor sharp. Not dull.
At tasks, discernment, prayers, intention.

Alert, awake, aware.
Streamlined attention on what matters.
No distractions or excuses.
Hush the noise, worries, hurdles.

Focus.

Training. Taking aim. Getting ready.
Sharpening. Strengthening.
Waiting. Concentrating.
Poised.

A shift in the eyes.
A perk in the mind.
A straightening of the back.
An awakening of heart.

An expectation for more.
Quiet, strong, deep.
Facing reality, vibrant, refreshed.
Praise upon lips.

A focused mind.
A focused spirit.
A focused heart.
A focused life.

Focus.

A Visitor, or Resident

Seated cuddled between cushions,
your eyes peeled at the door.
You’re hoping for a visitor, or resident even,
but you’re sorely, uncertain.
The air around feels cool but cozy,
and you’ve got your toes wrapped up beneath.
You hold your breath as you hear its steps,
will it be good, or bad, or ugly.

If fear comes knocking and ringing,
may you find the courage to look through the peep hole.
If disappointment slowly enters in,
may your doormat welcome it with grace to grow.
If anger storms and shakes your rattling gate,
may your frame hold firm with truth.
And if loneliness comes to keep you company,
may you know you’re still safely held, well under your roof.

But when love finally comes to stay and bloom,
may your worthy doors be flung wide open.
When hope appears at your windowsills,
may your curtains be drawn wide as bright light spills.
When hearty laughter vibrates through the corridor,
may you chuckle and give from your very core.
And when you find faith standing boldly on your living room floor,
may you welcome it with a sweet warm drink, and quickly shut the door.

You will

It’s been days, weeks, months, and years,
of trying, struggling, and pressing through the tears.
You can barely breathe, but you’re still breathing,
hardly able to think, and yet still living.
Don’t lose hope now, don’t give up.
Fight another day, you’ve come this far.
Don’t back down now, don’t give in
To the voices that beckon you to leaving.
You will journey on, with grace and strength,
With your heart laid open, for love to repair
All the parts of you, broken and bare.
You will, trust me,
You will get there.

> Firsts

In life, our Firsts always seem to build a special home in our hearts – First school. First love. First job. First kiss. First car. First word.

But there is a Second that builds a roof over the First. A Second that brings perspective, hope, and light.

And that is chance.
A Second chance at any Firsts opens a new door to that desecrated home in our hearts, mends that broken window and seals that leaking pipe. Take the chance & may your Seconds be greater than your Firsts.

My first poem was of love, and my first article spoke of love. My first sermon was grounded on love, my first prayer was for love.

Love. The Love that gripped my heart beyond any love possibly can, the Love that told me who I am and breathed life into this body that is passing away as days go by.

Love told me that words matter, these words that He gave me. He reminded me, once again, that writing is not only about speaking to people, but also about speaking about Him in a world where the Word has been diluted to quotable quotes. There is great depth in the Word.

So it doesn’t matter how many times we have failed or have given up, but it matters that we get back up. To stand up again. To write again. To speak again. To dance again. To try again.

Second chance, third, fourth, fifth. Never stop getting back up.

Spaces

Deep blue ocean
Morning dew fields
Cloudless skies
Cushioned sand beaches
Mountains and hilltops
Silent valleys
Pouring waterfalls
Jungles and forests
Seaside parks
Sweet flower gardens
Eternal winding roads
Quiet museums
Dance studios
Theatre’s stage
Grand hotel lobbies
High ceiling halls
Rooftop cafes
Riverside restaurants
King sized beds

The list goes on
Of vast and open spaces.
Boundless and whole,
Free and so comfortable.
I enjoy such places and spaces,
Where I’m reminded once again
Of how tiny this life I hold,
And how great a hand that holds.
Of how my desires matters,
And how He too desires.
Of how nature speaks of beauty,
And how beauty is reflecting His nature.
Of how I have been set free,
And how freely He gives.
Love,
Love, love open vast spaces

I Wonder If You Notice

A poem written on the train.

His hand finds its way to her back, large enough that it almost covers her left shoulder blade.
I wonder if she notices how he does that every time the train arrives at or leaves a station,
As if his palm is her resting place, just in case she falls backwards whenever the train jerks forwards.
His eyes gently grazes the translucence of her skin, and his fingers intertwines with her hair.
I wonder if she notices.

—

His mouth hangs wide open as his head rubs against the previous passengers’ hair stain on the window.
His shirt crumpled from a day’s work, and yet neatly buttoned and tucked in.
I wonder if he notices the frown on his forehead that is so prominent even in his sleep,
As if he is perpetually worried about his work, or family, or
Maybe beneath that worn-out work attire, he has a heart that is longing for his wife and children at home.
I wonder if he notices that.

—
Her hair falls almost perfectly upon her fair shoulders — brown, big curls, beautiful-kinda messy.
The near perfection is the most fascinating sight.
I wonder if she notices the beauty in her eyes, and the elegance in her poise, as she lifts her eyes to look at her text.
Her slender fingers curls around her phone, and the subtle purse of her lips.
She might not believe that she’s a beauty, but I wonder if she has yet to notice that she is.

—
She rests her hand on his elbow, as his hand holds onto the steely cold pole.
As if she trusted more in his strength, than the sturdiness of her sole.
I wonder if he notices that she dressed up and made up for him,
clad in an electric blue dress that brought out her best.
I wonder if he notices.

Because I noticed all of these, and I’m glad I did.
That amidst the busyness of life, the bustle and shoving on the train,
I noticed beauty and love in you, strangers.
And I hope you’ll notice that beauty in yourselves too.

Found YOU.

I’ve finally found you in the quiet,
Finally, found you in the noise.
I hear you whispering through the chaos,
And shouting through my own voice.
I was beginning to sink into the depth of my own doubts,
thoughts that
You have forsaken me,
Forgotten me,
Forgiven me, but still disappointed in me.

So when I finally found out what you did,
My heart could not contain the joy,
Oh I’m such a kid.
Because I did not find you,
Oh no, how foolish of me to think that way,
You found me.

All these while,
In this state of human passions,
I was only searching for myself.
Selfishly, stupidly,
Digging every earthly well to find no water to quench this thirst
For belonging,
Acceptance,
Compliments,
Purpose.

But all these while,
In your state of Godly passions,
You were only searching for me.
Sacrificially, sweetly,
Digging every well in my heart to pour out your love to quench my thirst
For belonging,
Acceptance,
Compliments,
Purpose.

You pursue me, over and over again.
With the sweetest of love songs,
And the warmest embrace,
I ran,
Far,
And wide,
And yet, you still came running,
With a love song on your lips,
And a hug in your arms,
You,
pursued me.