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Poems that send darts🎯to touch our hearts❤️
In a world torn by strife and fear, Where brother wars with brother, dear, And Nature bears the wrath of man, A plea for love, to heal and span.
How can one hate yet claim to love? When skies darken and storms move above, Each act of malice, a wound so deep, On this earth where we sow, we reap.
Love is the breath, the vital air, The essence that all souls must share. For without it, our spirits starve, Diminished in the dark we carve.
Our self-esteem, once bold and bright, Without love’s touch, loses its light. Our courage fades, we falter, fall, In shadows that our fears install.
No longer can we gaze with hope, But inward turn, with ourselves cope. Feeding on our lonely cries, In this self-made void, our spirit dies.
So let us love, not just some, but all, From the mighty right to the meekly small. For love alone can break these chains, Restore our souls, and heal our pains.
Crested by MarkWaldrop
"It is hard for me to understand a culture that not only hates and fights his brothers but even attacks Nature and abuses her. Man must love all creation or he will love none of it. Love is something you and I must have. We must have it because our spirit feeds upon it. Without love our self esteem weakens. Without it our courage fails. Without love we can no longer look out confidently at the world. Instead we turn inwardly and begin to feed upon our own personalities and little by little we destroy ourselves." - Chief Dan George -
Too many speak of politics and pride, With passion for votes, they do not hide. Yet in the silence, where souls are lost, They've forgotten the cross and what it cost.
They debate with fervor, their voices loud, But of Jesus' name, they're timid not proud. Where is the zeal to share the light, To bring the wandering to His sight?
For votes will fade and kingdoms fall, But His Word remains, the call for all. So let us turn from worldly ways, And lift up Jesus in all our days.
The harvest is plenty, the workers are few, Will you speak of Him, or just argue what's due? It's time to share the greatest gift, And let the name of Jesus lift.
If the person I vote for doesn’t win, I believe in tomorrow, where hope begins. For in the ebb and flow of days, There's always light in future ways.
A single loss is not the end, For time will heal, and hearts will mend. New voices rise, new dreams take flight, And through the dark, we find the light.
Though outcomes may not go my way, I trust in what the dawn will say. For every season has its turn, And through it all, we live and learn.
So if today my choice may fall, I believe tomorrow will still call. In faith, I plant tomorrow’s seed, For hope remains in every deed.
Old barns have a history all their own, Where hay once piled and tobacco was grown. Cows, horses, sheep, and goats alike, Made it home through day and night.
On barn-raising day, it gleamed so bright, A sturdy frame in morning light. But years of storms, of wind and rain, Have left their mark, a lasting stain.
Now the beams are worn, the paint has peeled, The echoes of life no longer revealed. But in my heart, those days remain, Bringing a tear, a sweet, soft pain.
For though the barn now stands in rust, Its memory holds a sacred trust. A symbol of toil, of life once shared, Where love and labor stood prepared.
Old barns may fade, but never die, For in our hearts, they still stand high. A testament to days gone by, Bringing a tear to my grateful eye.
Our flag is a symbol, pure and bright, Of patriotism, honor, and courage's light. We remember the fallen, their sacrifice dear, Giving their lives so freedom stays clear.
To forget the past, we'd surely stray, In guiding the future, we find our way. So let us hold our banner high, For God and country, we'll never deny.
When I see my neighbor, I sometimes compare, Judging his actions, though it’s not my affair. But deep in my heart, I know what’s true, I should not judge, but love like You.
Help me to be more like Jesus above, Who came not to condemn, but to offer love. He walked among sinners, yet did not scorn, For His Father, God, is Love, from whom grace is born.
Let me see with eyes that care, And a heart that’s willing to share, For in loving others, I find my way, To live like Jesus, day by day.
So when I see my neighbor, let judgment cease, And may love and kindness increase. For God is Love, this truth I know, And in His love, my soul will grow.
In the quiet woods where shadows fall, A woodpecker's tale begins to call, To the task at hand with patient care, Finding a tree that stands tall and fair.
The deadwood trunk, a hollowed prize, Beneath the gaze of autumn skies, Becomes the canvas, rough and true, For a winter's feast in every hue.
With careful beak and measured pace, The woodpecker starts to carve its place, Each hole a cradle, snug and tight, Neither too large nor small in height.
Too wide, the thieves would have their way, Too small, the bounty would decay, So, in between, with master’s hand, The woodpecker crafts a storage grand.
Summer's end, the work complete, The ripened acorns, smooth and sweet, Are tucked within the wooden walls, In secret chambers, nature’s halls.
Fifty thousand, a mighty store, The woodpecker's winter—famine no more. And as the cold winds start to sing, The bird will rest, content with spring.
A testament to patience, skill, And nature’s will in seasons still, The woodpecker's legacy, so fine, Is etched in bark, a steadfast sign.
