Showing posts with label spiritual poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiritual poems. Show all posts

Monday

You Didn't Want Dolls - a poem by Nicholl McGuire

This poem is a combination of contrast and rhyming poetry. The speaker is a frustrated Christian mother who shares her upset with a father of children who doesn't hide the fact that he doesn't want them. Toward the end of the poem, she warns witnesses. Enjoy!

Don’t be mad dad, when I’m bossy, overbearing, and overwhelmed when it comes to the children.

Society created me to be just what I am.
Playing with dolls during childhood, conditioned to be a mother.
Protective was I, my dolls were cared for.
Washed them, dressed them, carried them, fed them—It was I who loved them!
Told friends how to care for my dolls, talk to my dolls and play with my dolls.
If they didn’t treat them well, there was a price to pay – I cried, I fought about my dolls!
When I needed something for my dolls, I talked and talked until someone heard my pleas.
My dolls, they were there when no one wasn’t!  They needed me, like I needed them.
So don’t be mad dad,
if I fight you in court, I have good reason.
if I expect the children to behave, I have good reason.
if I need you to help, I have good reason.
if I want your help, I’ll ask.
You weren’t there when I played with my dolls.
Society put you in a truck, a car, a van, or a motorcycle when you were a child made you think you were a super hero.
You didn’t think about dolls.
Didn’t want dolls.
Couldn’t care less about dolls.
So please forgive me when I don’t step aside, don’t listen to you or don’t even want to play with you when it comes to our dolls!
Remember, you didn’t like dolls.
Dolls were not your friends.
Dolls you kicked aside, compassion you would not let in.
Dolls made noise, dolls weren’t for little boys.
You ran from pink, liked to play with stuff that stink.
You thought you had it all, as long as you had a ball.
But then you grew up and became a man.
Even though in the past, you ran.
Now you realize what to do, there are duties that come when you pursue.
Little girls become women, not just something to swim in.
So now you raise up concerns,
with unforgiveness in your heart, you yearn,
words and looks you use to burn,
your family.

Heed this warning, you who sit and watch my fit!
These are no longer the days of dolls, you have to watch real close lest you fall.
For seasons come and seasons go,
it's not about a holy show.
You don’t act like a God-sent family is nothing more than an anomaly.
Nor, do you compare what you have with others,
then talk about your own with the brothers.
For God sees all and many a man takes one long fall.
Watch their women go away with others,
While they sleep alone under-covers.
Dolls, dolls, dolls.
We see them in malls.
Crying out for dads,
while wearing clothing fads.
Crying out for moms,
like David with God in Psalms.
This is how we grow, this is how we show,
the truth about our ugly side,
between verses that don’t hide!
So look before you leap,
if you don’t want to be manipulated like sheep.
Men promise things,
Women expect rings.
Be careful of the next love song that you sing.


Check out more of Nicholl's online work here: nmenterprise7 - YouTube

Friday

Awakening from the Puppet Master from the One True God Almighty Master

The following poem can be related to a wide variety of systems put in place to manipulate the masses.  Without looking beyond your daily responsibilities, you will easily find yourself being nothing more than a puppet for Satan, a walking zombie ready to attack anyone who attempts to break the spell you're under, or one very much ready to die because you just can't stand the pressure.

So the puppet master sat us all down one day
Said he had much to say,
been responsible for many things,
had created scripts for kings.
Said he wanted us to know many truths.
Encouraged us to be truth-telling sleuths.


So he opened up his world,
showed us many little girls
with long hair wrapped in curls.

But legs were entangled and some looked as if strangled.
Said he had bound them like this, so they wouldn’t resist.
They were being trained to act like him,
only they were decorated with gems and trim.

For every gem had meaning,
“kittens and bitches” learned about gleaning.
Their jobs were to draw lost boys to wells,
but really, adult men ended up in hells—
deceived into thinking they were like the Prince of Wales.

He went on to tell us stories of old,
made up by men who were bold—
willing to lie for a piece of gold.

Showed us photos of slaves,
grown men made to behave.
From farm fields to sporting events,
hard men with harder mothers represent.
“This is the way we do it,” he said,
“Create the atmosphere, use, abuse, and commit to a bed.
 Loyal dogs follow their teachers,
and listen to godless preachers.
Pledge to a few, dreams must pursue
--only the chosen, a few.
 Now if they do well, rumors will dispel,
a story will tell, we ring the bell.
Freedom they are given, they make a great livin’.
But to those who are not well fed,
we put flowers on their beds.
Not worth the time and energy,
they don’t have the right synergy.
It takes many plans to rule the nations,
many infrastructures and stations.
People are more than what they appear to be,
Entertainers, soldiers, and many more, you see.
There are those who think like you do,
but don’t explore, review.
Take whatever we give them or lend them.
Make a fuss when they can’t get on the bus,
kick, scream, cry, and cuss."

The old man began to smile,
he showed us another file.
Pointed to those he had on speed dial.
“If ever there was anyone I needed,
they knew their job, they conceded.”
There are many like me, the old man laughed,
“but those old fools got the shaft.”
“Play along,” he warned.
It was the same tired song.

He wanted us to work for him,
but we knew about “them.”
The lies about our money,
the queen bee with all the honey,
the court jesters acting funny,
pretending everyday was sunny.

Talk shows, talent shows, reality shows, and videos with hos.
He claimed it all, his design,
he said, they were fed their lines.
All used to get us not to think,
Hoping we wouldn’t ask,
“What stinks?”

The rich, old man appeared to be alright,
but we could see he had poor sight.
Believed his own lies for far too long,
wanted us to sing his pathetic song,
“Listen and obey, listen and obey…
pray, pray to our dark god today.”

After all his teaching, it was time for us to go preaching.
But what he thought we were going to go out and say,
he was mistaken, we didn’t make his day.
For we had much to say...

“New levels, new devils.
New agendas and plans,
while the ostrich has his head
in quick sand.
Pay the people, pay the people.
Taking money from the steeples.
One true God watches all!
Humpty is about to have a great, big, big fall.
All his kings’ horses and all his kings’ men
won’t be put back together again!
Circles go bust, lies reveal,
secrets spill, and leaders pop pills.
Told you to go get your Holy Book,
But your head, it just shook!
Told you to take cover,
But you rather sleep with a lover.
Warned you of pending danger,
You saw the label, “Endanger.”
Your species is dying off,
they sold out, bent over
took a cough.
Raising up devilish things,
while building up many smokescreens."

Oh, the old man thought we were fools.
He forgot we went to higher learning schools.
Trying to distract us with big words and things.
Trying to tell us which songs to sing.
Didn’t think we would break programming.
Didn’t think we knew anything but to dance and sing.

While some play ball, distracted from a future fall.
We go out and stand real tall!
Hands held high—no fear to die,
running away from nightmares
while puppets walk with blank stares.

Do you really see what I see or do you prefer
to attack the one greater than me?
For there is one above, who is as gentle as a dove.
But more powerful than the strongest quake
and he will make the deceived shake.
Best be on guard for what is ahead
And stay out of the wicked one’s bed!

Nicholl McGuire is the author of Spiritual Poems by Nicholl, a creative work that illustrates the upset, frustration, but also joyful moments being a follower of the one true God!

Wednesday

They Know Not What They Have Done

Vote up vote down,

vote for a clown.

A figure head,
lying in a bed.

A man leader,
for those who have no reader.

Wouldn’t listen to the few wise men,
engulfed in one’s own sin.
Make me feel good,
look good,
I wish you would…
give me this, give me that—
get involved in a spat!

Your view, my few—
religion and politics don’t mix.

Can’t sit down with brothers,
who support those under covers.

Drank from the well that they bring,
listened to the songs that they sing.

Men compromise truth for lies.
Truth tellers they despise.

Angry because you don’t know,
what goes on behind the show.

Pretenders follow Jesus when it benefits them.
Cult members go beyond, go out on a limb.

Many sheep too lazy to think,
won’t even wash clothes that stink.

Sit in front of screens,
Looking for excuses to be mean.

Not really interested in one’s feedback,
got a task list to do, a stack.

Just curious to know,
are there those who saw pass the show,
and what more is there to know? 

Nicholl McGuire author of Know Your Enemy: The Christian's Critic and other books.

Saturday

And You Say I've Changed poem recited by Nicholl McGuire

And You Say I've Changed Poem by Nicholl McGuire by nichollmcguire on SoundCloud - Create, record and share your sounds for free

Always in a Rush

In a slow town, in slow motion
where people talk slow, walk slow.
God speaks.
No excuses anymore to not listen.

No honking cars in rush hour.
No people passing each other without a glance.
Someone knows your name.
Someone is praying for you.

A long way from home.
You don't need to talk fast, move fast
or rush God with your requests.

"God I want...
God I need....
God I love you..."
God isn't buying it.
Quiet!
Stop talking!
Your always in a rush!

He put you here, city boy, city girl in a small town
with small wishes, with small voices and small minds.
A town you love to hate.
But why?
Can't appreciate the simple things, too busy looking for the big things.
Someone told you there is a better life amongst the noise.

You remember the sound of birds and crickets don't you?
What about the singing of rain drops and wind?

No man-made sounds day and night in this here small town.
Peace and quiet.
What is He saying to you?
Is life difficult these days?
Are you troubled?
Can't get your head out of the past?
Lost in the future?

Breathe.
Your heart is racing.
Chest tightening.
Just breathe.
Take your time.
What's your hurry?
Always getting up to go to the next room to...
watch TV,
wipe something clean,
straighten something up,
pick up the phone,
listen to music,
surf the Internet,
get ready for work,
go to school.

He's talking.
Are you listening?

Thursday

It's a New Day

No worries, no pain from yesterday
got a feeling that today is my day!

Going to pick the old me up off this bed--
no longer crying and seeing red!

I'm not in the mood to lend a listening ear
to gloom.
Don't have the energy to share my space
with doom!

Not today.

Taking time for my Lord!
Sharpening my sword.

Got a plan in my hand
won't let it sink in sand
(At least not this time
spending my last dime!)

Walking on a pathway of peace
while praying for foolishness to cease,
I held my hand up
and the Lord took my cup--
said I wouldn't be needing this
something I thought I'd miss--
it was yesterday's troubles
sitting in bubbles.

Today is my day!
So I will sit and pray,
whatever the Lord wills
come what may!

Tuesday

Independent Woman: A Byproduct of the Feminist Movement

A dedication to my career driven sisters who proudly boast their degrees.

I was proud of my status
an independent woman
fresh out of college.

I wanted the money
I wanted the honey -
a sticky, gooey mess
got all over my shoes
my books
my mind
and my behind!

Oh no! Wasn't prepared for the news
a baby on the way
a marriage,
and a break from my career!

Fought the man
felt he interfered with my plan!
Couldn't hold on to his extended hand.
He never felt comfortable with me
and all my thoughts of degrees.

What was I going to do with all my education?
Wasn't interested in going along just to get along
that's not what they taught in college.

For I was free to be me
and that's what I intended
didn't want a kiss if it would make me miss
my thought and the money that came along with it.
"Move away, I'm busy."
"Can't you see, I'm tired?"
"You are nothing but a mess!"

Honey left me alone
didn't like to be called a mess.
Considered himself to be sweet, sticky -
a treat for me.

I resented honey
because he messed with my money
didn't like the plan God had set for me.

Desires of my heart was a man really it?
I preferred to be alone and exercise to stay fit,
but the baby changed my body
but didn't change my mind.
I had to catch up, felt a little left behind.

God wasn't taught in college.
Love didn't make the Dean's list
unless money was in the same sentence.

A fight every day for an independent me
living in an independent world
as far as I could see.

Where was God in all of this?

Hey Dark World

Deceptive shades,
fire behind you
burning up the old you
to embrace the new you, entertainers!

Their music videos
don't match their Dear John letters.

Their dark side
hidden by glitter, gold
costumes, rings, tattoos.

Distractions.

Innocent, at first.
Their sold on a bunch of promises.
New car, homes, bonuses, reality shows.

Between the lies the puppet master speaks.
Behind dark shades,
he's always playing a game.

Fine print reads,
"You do this...you do that for us..."
A soul enslaved to laws that make no sense
free of common sense.

Followers
don't know.

A disgruntled former player in the game
tells the truth, watch "favor" sales decline.
His life at stake.

How many times do you think you can shake the money tree
with mixed up philosophies, dare I say, artist?

False religions
fake Christianity
change their names for fame
change their names to play a game.

Entertainers!
They use to be like you and me -
said prayers to God
now say chants to a god
use to go to church
now talk about a church.

An unholy union
with an unholy communion
smiling in my face
from the pages in print
the woman in red
prostituting herself
parading nude, teasing committed men
while her husband
degrades women
ignorant of truth
following a light that ends in darkness.

The black widow
killing him, killing you, killing me.

What to do
what to do
if and when the enemy uses you?

Wednesday

You Call Yourself a Christian

You call yourself a Christian, a believer, a child of God
when it benefits
appeases
elevates
cultivates
looks good
feels right
but maybe not tonight.

For when darkness falls and the sheets pulled back
you will be dreaming of your money stack.

Hundreds, fifties, twenties, and a dolla'
cause you reeled them in and made them holla!

How long can you keep up your acts?
Avoiding the truth, forgetting the facts!

You know you don't love the Lord
You could care less about the sword.

You say you are one of the chosen, the few
but isn't this not about them, but you?

Inside of Me I Know There is a Living God

In my soul, I know
He use to be my foe
But I had let him in
It was an easy win
A place for me he made
I knew my sin would fade
No longer would I hide
Behind eyes that cried
I know Him in my soul
This is my life's goal
Pleasing my teacher
He gave me this feature
Yes, God is inside that old devil just lied!

A New Beginning

Blessings of joy
Heartfelt laughter
Words of guidance
Positive thinking
Uplifting melodies
An appreciation of life
Captivating love
A sense of security
Peaceful places
Moments with God
A humbled soul.

Conversations with God

Apply the principles
Seek evidence
Look for movement
Listen for sound
Smell for familiarity
Realize the difference
Share the truth
Hold back feelings
Let trouble go
Tell a neighbor
Question a neighbor
Hold a baby close
Watch the eyes
Position yourself
Defend the gospel
It's true, I had a conversation with God.

A Poem for the Lost

We would die with smiles on our faces from the mere sound of your voice,
touch of your hand, and glow from your eyes.

We would die with smiles on our faces for love like yours
is extraordinary in our world.

We would tumble over in pain from the overflow of butterflies in our stomachs.
Our blood vessels would swell and then burst from the vibration of your footsteps.

We would die for you are the Almighty teacher, friend, parent, sister, brother, and lover
in our lives.
And there is none greater than you!

We would just die if we had the chance to see your spirit, feel your power, and capture your love!

Seeking to publish your spiritual poems online?


Worldblessings.com allows spiritual poets to contribute their literary work on their site. If you are looking to share your inspiring stories with the world, visit http://www.worldblessings.com/spiritual-poems.html



New Audio Spiritual Messages by Nicholl