Sunday, November 8, 2009

Running Wild

The last time I saw Lori and her little daughter Grace, I took them down to Baltimore's inner harbor. Grace had a ball. Everything down there fascinated her and she ran after everything that caught her sight. I started to write this piece about Grace, but as usually it turned into a retrospective of my own life.

Running Wild

Hey, child, running towards tomorrow,
Looking back, are you being followed?
Mamma tend to worry about that boy.

Hey, child, somebody's calling you.
Running on, who are you listening to?
Hope you don't loose yourself on the way.

Walking up right on your own,
Within the year you were born,
Strong willed child, running wild.

Hey, child, looking for who you are,
Working hard, will you be a shining star?
Gonna have to catch your breath some day.

Hey, child, Jesus is calling you.
Turning back, who will you listen to?
Will you find your way back home?

Strong willed child, running wild.

The Light from Behind My Grandma's Door

My grandma was the godliest person I know. Every day, she would get up super early in the morning (while it's still dark) to pray and worship the Lord to begin the day. Every evening, she would stay up way late to do it again to end the day. I'm convinced that her time with the Lord were two-way conversations. In fact, I'm sure it was her prayers that caused God to hold an umbrella of protection over our family.

I remember when I was really little, I was afraid of the dark. My mom would keep the light on until I had fallen asleep. However, there would be times when I would wake up during the night. Luckily, my grandma's light would be on as she prays for the family and I would fall asleep in the comfort of her light.

God, I miss her since she'd passed away.

So, here's one for you, grandma:

The Light from Behind My Grandma's Door

The Light spills into the night,
From behind my grandma's door.
Its glow scatters the shadows
Upon the living room floor.

Her prayers climb up Jacob's stairs,
Up beyond the evening sky,
To where the Light shines,
through the night.
Her songs take me to where I belong,
In His sight.

Keep the Light burning in my heart.
Keep her life's yearning in my heart.

A Chest of Hope and A Chest of Burden

As a single person, I'm never comfortable about giving marriage advice to friends. But sometimes, it's hard keep silent as I watch a relationship blows apart. So I wrote the following for a very special couple.

A Chest of Hope and A Chest of Burden

A chest of hope and a chest of burden
Are the same chest then and now.
The same package with the same contents,
Through the years, has changed somehow.

A gift from God to a parcel from hell,
How quickly their views have turned.
They wanted true love and intimacy,
But freedom their hearts now yearn.

When and how did the load become heavy?
Were more added in the night?
Who was responsible? Was it he or was it she?
Now, begins the final fight.

He lifts his end of the load higher,
Shifting the weight towards her.
She lifts her end of the load higher,
Beyond the point they once were.

How will the story end? I don't know.
Where do relationships land?
Will they return the load to where it belongs,
In the Father's secure hand?

A chest of hope and a chest of burden
Are the same chest then and now.
The difference is who supports the weight.
The question is who not how.

The same package with the same contents,
Through the years, has changed somehow.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Battlestar Galactica 16GB Zune Giveaway Contest Poem

CNET.Com is giving away one special Battlestar Galactica edition of the Microsoft 16GB Zune to a randomly selected contest entry. To enter, one only has to post a comment at:

For my entry, I entered the following:

Please, give me the Battlestar Galactica Zune.
Oh, please, please, send it to me really soon.
On it, I'll play songs in which Sinatra and Bennett croon.
Then, beautiful women would flock to me and swoon.


Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Testimony

I've been searching for the answer,
Since my fading days of youth.
What is wrong and what is right
And what is the truth?

Does it really matter,
In God's universal plan?
If I were to disappear,
Would He miss a grain of sand?

Would He look for me?

He's been waiting for my answer,
Since He made me in His hand.
Would I choose to follow He
And would I make a stand?

Would I see His love for me
And would I really care?
Would I run into His arm,
If I saw Him standing there?

Would I recognize Him?

So He came down to look for me,
Shed his majesty and power.
And died on the wooden cross,
On the appointed hour.

When I saw the Son who died for me
To bear my sin and shame.
I chose to follow Him
And bear his holy name.

He came to look for me.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Back Alley Stray

She's a back alley stray
Kicked too many times.
She was fed every day
Broken promises and rhymes.
She no longer trusts that love would stay.

When I reach out to her
She instinctively flinches.
Afraid of what will reoccur,
Her right fist clinches.
She's not comforted by anything I say.