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| Nicholl McGuire |
If you or someone you know, could use an original poem for your site or other creative work, like the ones featured on this blog, send an email to: Nicholl McGuire, creator and contributor of this nmcguire7@hotmail.com
blog.
Monday
Thank you for stopping by!
If you or someone you know, could use an original poem for your site or other creative work, like the ones featured on this blog, send an email to: Nicholl McGuire, creator and contributor of this nmcguire7@hotmail.com
blog.
Friday
Who Do You Really Love?
Question your love.
Who do you think of?
Starting a new day,
did you take time to pray?
Was there something you forgot to say?
So much on a mind,
love can be so blind.
Problems enter in,
move on men to sin.
Wasn't it just the other day,
after a lay, that you wished for a wedding day?
Time flies by when you are having fun,
but commitment makes you want to run.
Love who?
Not you.
So many, so few,
called and don't want to do.
"I love you" they say,
hoping for an answer
while they pray.
But God isn't in this or that,
not today, too many people
living beyond fat.
Seeking a bride,
white as snow,
not one hiding, on the down low.
Refusing to commit,
won't carry a permit.
Telling people stories,
lost in sinful glories.
Celebrities act like they love,
act as if a relationship should
fit like a glove.
God knows better,
but people don't bother to
read his love letter.
Worldly holidays,
always forget to pray,
another life lost
on Valentine's Day.
Nicholl McGuire
Who do you think of?
Starting a new day,
did you take time to pray?
Was there something you forgot to say?
So much on a mind,
love can be so blind.
Problems enter in,
move on men to sin.
Wasn't it just the other day,
after a lay, that you wished for a wedding day?
Time flies by when you are having fun,
but commitment makes you want to run.
Love who?
Not you.
So many, so few,
called and don't want to do.
"I love you" they say,
hoping for an answer
while they pray.
But God isn't in this or that,
not today, too many people
living beyond fat.
Seeking a bride,
white as snow,
not one hiding, on the down low.
Refusing to commit,
won't carry a permit.
Telling people stories,
lost in sinful glories.
Celebrities act like they love,
act as if a relationship should
fit like a glove.
God knows better,
but people don't bother to
read his love letter.
Worldly holidays,
always forget to pray,
another life lost
on Valentine's Day.
Nicholl McGuire
Thursday
Missed Out
Warning,
they told him what to do.
Warning,
yet he would still be untrue.
God had taken him by the hand,
showed him what he could have given him,
a prosperous land.
But the man couldn't hold his head up,
all he could do was look at the empty cup.
For he remembered what he had done,
and how he ignored God's Holy Son.
When things were good, he bragged about self,
while he made a wish and rubbed the head of an elf.
Thought he had everything figured out,
went to church and gave a shout.
But old him had showed up at home,
the name "Pride" was written on his dome.
Opted out of praying, preferred to stick
to old sayings.
Didn't want to get too close
to the seers, despite having so many fears.
Wasted much money, days weren't sunny.
Tried to get laughs from shows that weren't funny.
No matter how much he lied, his Spirit just cried,
what little joy left within had been gobbled up by sin.
He missed out on blessings from everywhere,
distracted by nude women with long, blonde hair.
Thought he could do things his own way,
thought he had plenty of time to pray.
But there was a hell waiting for the Mister,
it had already claimed his fellow Sister.
Assumed that one was okay with the Lord,
but he had forgot about God's deadly sword.
A Holy Father's truth cuts, whips your butt,
and the next thing you know you're sitting
in a rut--trying to crawl free, people around see,
but all they say is, "So glad that's not me."
Nicholl McGuire
they told him what to do.
Warning,
yet he would still be untrue.
God had taken him by the hand,
showed him what he could have given him,
a prosperous land.
But the man couldn't hold his head up,
all he could do was look at the empty cup.
For he remembered what he had done,
and how he ignored God's Holy Son.
When things were good, he bragged about self,
while he made a wish and rubbed the head of an elf.
Thought he had everything figured out,
went to church and gave a shout.
But old him had showed up at home,
the name "Pride" was written on his dome.
Opted out of praying, preferred to stick
to old sayings.
Didn't want to get too close
to the seers, despite having so many fears.
Wasted much money, days weren't sunny.
Tried to get laughs from shows that weren't funny.
No matter how much he lied, his Spirit just cried,
what little joy left within had been gobbled up by sin.
He missed out on blessings from everywhere,
distracted by nude women with long, blonde hair.
Thought he could do things his own way,
thought he had plenty of time to pray.
But there was a hell waiting for the Mister,
it had already claimed his fellow Sister.
Assumed that one was okay with the Lord,
but he had forgot about God's deadly sword.
A Holy Father's truth cuts, whips your butt,
and the next thing you know you're sitting
in a rut--trying to crawl free, people around see,
but all they say is, "So glad that's not me."
Nicholl McGuire
Wednesday
God Loves You
Even if you don't believe it,
don't care,
doubtful,
God loves
you.
Nicholl McGuire
Read this poem: When God Speaks
don't care,
doubtful,
God loves
you.
Nicholl McGuire
Read this poem: When God Speaks
Monday
Up and Away
"Up and away,
today I lay
and wish for a brand new day.
So tired of being sick,
shriveling down to a stick.
Struggling with being ill,
my cry, a shrill.
Asked the Lord for immediate healing,
wonder what his hand is dealing.
Answers to prayer seem a bit slow,
wonder if they all know."
Her illness a secret,
doctors she met.
But there was no cure,
her date had been set.
She was dying with each passing day.
Those that knew, didn't know what to pray.
They had no favor with her Lord,
he had cut them with his sword.
They were in the wilderness, with nothing to eat,
didn't want to confess sin, fall down at God's feet.
Didn't believe their lives were all messed up,
didn't believe God's wrath was in a cup...
pouring down on all,
prideful witnesses to her fall.
It was time to do right,
experience the light,
and know that God was still in sight.
Up and away,
and so she would pray,
hoping God would take her today.
Nicholl McGuire is the author of Laboring to Love an Abusive Mate and other books.
today I lay
and wish for a brand new day.
So tired of being sick,
shriveling down to a stick.
Struggling with being ill,
my cry, a shrill.
Asked the Lord for immediate healing,
wonder what his hand is dealing.
Answers to prayer seem a bit slow,
wonder if they all know."
Her illness a secret,
doctors she met.
But there was no cure,
her date had been set.
She was dying with each passing day.
Those that knew, didn't know what to pray.
They had no favor with her Lord,
he had cut them with his sword.
They were in the wilderness, with nothing to eat,
didn't want to confess sin, fall down at God's feet.
Didn't believe their lives were all messed up,
didn't believe God's wrath was in a cup...
pouring down on all,
prideful witnesses to her fall.
It was time to do right,
experience the light,
and know that God was still in sight.
Up and away,
and so she would pray,
hoping God would take her today.
Nicholl McGuire is the author of Laboring to Love an Abusive Mate and other books.
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