Pijush Kanti Deb- A Poem

My Longing

Whenever I am to be made,

May God make me only for her,

In every door of my closed fate,

Before my death and thereafter-

May God write her love in my name

And make her heart always same to same.

Whenever I am to be blessed,

May God bless her instead of me,

In every moment--- happy or sad,

In every poem of my anthology

May God write her passion in my name

And make me winner in the passionate game.

Whenever I am to be gifted,

May God gift her first my ownership,

In the part of my life---the most collocated,

In my journey and in its every trip-

May God write her beauty in my name

And make my home luminous in her flame.

Whenever I am to be departed

May God set her dream in my eye,

Let my prayer be reverberated

In every molecule of air and sky,

My rebirth be written in her name

And her love-bird be owned again to tame.

Pijush Kanti Deb is a new Indian poet with more than 100 poems accepted or published in many national and international magazines and journals- print and on-line since June 2013.He is an Associate Professor in Economics.

Lela Marie De La Garza- A Poem

ARCHITECT

He feather-jeweled the hummingbird,

Sculpted every shell,

Cleft caves, raised mountains; made

A place for man to dwell.

The sun came at His bidding

And gave the moon its  birth.

God said: “I think I’ll keep this;

Someday it may have worth.”

Jane Blanchard- A Poem

Sequel

 

Lazarus was not one to die and tell.

The first time, he spent four days in a tomb

Before the Master raised him to resume

His faithful walk on earth, then said, “Farewell.”

 

We can but wonder whether Jesus’ friend

Passed through the pearly gates, strolled golden streets,

Roomed in a mansion, slept on silken sheets,

And sang with angels ’til this bliss’s end.

 

The second time, the Lord did not drop by

The site of sisters’ grief in Bethany,

For once some followers could hear and see

Him risen, Heaven called Him home on high.

 

Yet hope abounds that never-ending love

Still lifted Lazarus to life above.  

 

 

 

A resident of Georgia, Jane Blanchard studied English at Wake Forest before earning a doctorate from Rutgers.  Her work has recently appeared in The Healing Muse, Penwood Review, The Raven Chronicles, and Seminary Ridge Review.

Kim Bond- Three Poems

Lord, How You Love Me!

Adoring me in my waking hours
Befriending me when I had no friends
Chasing me when I chased after idols
Doting on me even as I sleep
Exhausting my mind with glorious thoughts
Flowing in the air I breathe
Giving me amazing opportunities
Helping me be a better person
Instantly hearing my prayers
Joking with me when I need a laugh
Kindly nudging me in the right direction
Loving me with a sacrificial love
Moving me to focus on what is pure
Nursing my emotional health
Openly acknowledging me as Your child
Pouring Your Spirit into me
Quieting my anxiousness
Rallying behind me when I need courage
Stopping me from making big mistakes
Throwing adventure into my path
Understanding me better than myself
Valiantly protecting me
Walking before me and lighting my path
X-linking my chromosomes 
Yearlong songs sung over me
Zapping me with warm fuzzies

Salt

Salt
seasons,
stings in wounds,
leaps from our pores,
pours down in warm tears,
dissolves ice on sidewalks,
crystallizes to form flats,
cures meat for later consumption,
slaps the face with a colossal wave.
Have we lost our saltiness, Father God?

Illusions

Life in this body
Careful how you handle it
Seems to be long and sturdy
Appears as concrete
Strong, durable, tough, rugged
But is actually glass.

A relationship
to the Lord seems virtuous
Unbeknownst to onlookers
It's a buoy at sea
Realized only by those
who swim in deeper waters.

 

 

 

BIO: Kim Bond loves to write and considers it her ministry. She authored a Christian short story collection called The Footstool and edited a testimony collection called Never Forsaken. Her most recent poem was published in Ancient Paths. 

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

the great Healer

You heal me and help me
without my
deserving it; how
could i choose to do anything
less than praise Your
Holy name for the rest of
my days?
He who makes a home
for even the most
minute insect to the largest
hippo swimming in the
river
He who is strong enough to
conquer and vanquish
countries and towns alike;
yet You hold my hand
tell me that i'm worth more than
rubies when i feel worthless
tell me to keep trying
when despair tries to drag
me under her flood
because You have plans to 
prosper me not to hurt me.




strength

You remind me
i am stronger than this pain
tougher than all these
problems
making me cry at night
tossing and turning me out
of my bed,
and so i pray and You
make things better
sometimes even the most minute
change is enough to make
me breathe,
and You always know exactly
what i need and when i
need it even
when i'm stressing out and freaking out
You know it will all end all right,
and so i'll try to stop fretting
because i know it tends toward evil
You told me so;
so i'll remember to trust You
because You're the only power that saves.




faith

You are the only power
that saves
so i turn to You
because everything seems
to be falling apart
before it can fall together
yet i know You have
plans to prosper me not to hurt me
so i'll hold on
even if this ocean is threatening
to drown me
i know You have the power
to hold Your hand out and stop the storm
from devouring me
so i hold on here breathing shallowly
hoping that soon
this pain will be gone
because it's really hurtful, but i know
You won't let it last forever.

John Kaniecki- Two Poems

Jesus

By John Kaniecki

 

Jesus

He’s everything wrong

He’s everything right

A catchy name in a song

A reason to fight

Jesus is in disguise

Cloaked by a multitude of lies

A friend to the poor

The god of War

A name to curse

Creator of the universe

Jesus

What you see

Determines

Who you’ll be

Jesus

 

 

Peace on Earth   Previously published in writersontheloose.com

By John Kaniecki

 

My wish for Christmas

Is peace on Earth

Wasn’t that the promise

At our dear Lord’s birth

 

For peace on Earth I pray

We need it to survive

Join with me today

Help keep the dream alive

 

Peace only comes from Love

Not from guns and war

Do you know where I’m coming from

Become part of the cure

 

God in heaven wishes us well

We are His children one and all

He Loves us more than we can tell

Join the cause of peace, heed the call

 

My wish for Christmas

Is peace on Earth

Wasn’t that the promise

At our dear Lord’s birth

Lois Read- Three Poems

Silk Carpets

As we stood around the great vat of water
filled with cocoons of silkworms
bobbing on the surface
saw the manager of the carpet factory
lift one high
saw a fine strong strand stray off
find its way to the spindle
on the other side, soon
to be sorted , dyed, woven
into prized Turkish rugs

I saw my life
an endless moment
in the sweep of hours
that make eternity
spun by silkworms
raised on mulberry leaves
in the South of France

saw a strong, yet fragile thread
unravel from a cocoon
held in God's hand
wind around the spindle
of my days, be woven
by unseen angels
into the unique tapestry
which holds, and shows,
my story.


Whispers

Grace
a silken scarf
on the bared shoulders
of my soul
allows me to stay serene
in a world where
madness reigns
or seems to reign
     weather patterns gone berserk
     chemical weapons in Syria
     earthquakes in China
     children shot
     in Sandy Hook
to be safe
to smile
though to do so
afloat in a sea of destruction
seems sacrilegious somehow
yet
on my patio
sweet in the morning light

the silken scarf flutters
lifts
and there is Dame Julian of Norwich
holding a hazel nut
whispering
through the stone
of her medieval cell
“all manner of thing shall be well”


Witness

Hush.  Miracles happen
quietly.  If I sit here  and watch
the rose will surely open
the fat red bud unfurl, like one of those
slow-motion nature photos.

The wonder of it
glues me to the chair
willing the petals
to peel back, reveal the secret
the soul of the rose.

It is happening!  After
only an hour outer petals
curl away from
the tight-fisted bud, one
closest to me lays itself open

reveals astonishing reds
brilliant near the bud, blending
to crimson, almost black
creation compressed
in one small perfect petal.



Lois Read, retired art teacher and painter turned poet, has produced three chapbooks of poems with watercolors and two collections of poetry.  She has had poems in The Connecticut River Review and the Poetry of Yoga (vol.2), and won honorable mention in the Maria Faust sonnet contest two years ago.  Her poem “Bones” was judged fifteenth out of 4000 entries is the Writers' Digest Poetry contest in 2013.  Read  lives in Connecticut at 51 Ashlar Village, Wallingford, 06492, phone 203-294-0462, except in the winter when she lives in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where she can be reached by email at loisfay@sbcglobal.net.