Ramona Thompson- A Poem

Ramona Thompson has been writing for more then 20 years. Her past credits include How To Trick The Devil, Howl, Inner Fears, Blood Moon Rising, Infernal Ink, Calvary Cross, Dead Snakes and many more.

 

Readers/fans may stalk her on facebook or her e-mail reddstar111@gmail.com

 

 

Singles Bible Study

 

Sexual sin should embrace you never

Inside you should hold only the glory of our God above

No matter the urges of the flesh you must never give in

Glorious Jesus Christ alone you should worship

Linger not among those devils who would mislead you

Every day find a way to resist the temptations single life offers

Sin no so ye may be saved in the life to come after

 

Boldly say no to wayward ill meaning friends

Insist upon a new and improved you every day that you live

Believe and everlasting peace you shall have

Lose those enemies dying to lead you down the path to ruin

Embrace his teachings over the sinful world's

 

Study to show thy self improved

Take no harsh judgements to heart for it your life and yours alone to live

Until they accept all of you for who you are, turn them away

Don't follow just because they do

You are the future and a role model for those to come after you

 

Only you can lead them

To the Godly life

For them above all

He seeks them to live

Amen!

 

2016 Ramona Thompson

 

 

Jennifer Lagier- A Photo

                                               "Wall Angel"

Bruce Mundhenke- A Poem

By My Spirit

It's not about who's wrong,
It's not about who's right,
It's not about which tribe or nation
Has the power or the might.
There is a Spirit
From which came all,
That rules the day,
And also rules the night.
A Spirit of patience and mercy,
A Spirit of truth and light.
When our Spirit
Is touched by the Spirit,
We discover that beauty is...
And though we must pass
Through this world here,
Time spent
When we dwell in Love
Is time spent without fear.

David J. Thompson- A Photo

                                        "Infant Jesus, Cadiz"

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Rain on Good Friday

Many decades ago

when I was a kid

we always expected rain

at 3 p.m. on Good Friday 

said to be the hour 

of Christ’s Death on the Cross.

And more often than not,

it would rain at some point

if not exactly at 3 p.m.

Maybe only a shower

but enough to confirm,

for those of us who believed,

the significance of the day.

But those were different times.

Things were normal in the Fifties

as normal as Original Sin would allow.

Today a shower wouldn’t cut it

but a flood might help to refresh

the memory of man, especially if 

no ark could be found.

Donal Mahoney 

—————————————————————————
Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, lives in St. Louis, Missouri. His fiction and poetry have appeared in various publications, including The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, The Christian Science Monitor, The Chicago Tribune and Commonweal. Some of his work can be found at http://eyeonlifemag.com/the-poetry-locksmith/donal-mahoney-poet.html#sthash.OSYzpgmQ.dpbs=

David J. Thompson- A Photo

                                 "Flowers For Suffering, Cadiz"

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Someone from Home

When I was a child we always went to church but only once a year as a family.

My father would rise every Sunday and attend the 6:30 Mass, then come home and read his Sunday paper, every word of it, section by section, saving the obituaries for last.

My mother would stuff my sister and me into our Sunday best and send us off to the Children’s Mass at 10. It was a short walk to the church and times were different back then. We were children but safe in our little neighborhood of brick bungalows where neighbors kept an eye out for strangers or anyone or anything that looked odd. The south side of Chicago in the Forties and Fifties was blue collar, little villages teeming with immigrants and very peaceful, except for the occasional fight that might break out in a neighborhood bar. 

After sending my sister and me off to church, my mother would put the roast in the oven, ask my father to keep an eye on it, and she would go to the 11:15.

This was our family pattern, even on Christmas and Easter. I recall not one variation.

But there was that one day a year when the four of us as a family went off to church together. And that was on Good Friday when we walked to the church, my sister and I in front, my father and mother right behind us, to attend the Stations of the Cross at 3 p.m. Not a word was said as we walked those few blocks. But I was impressed by this family event because if it was important enough to get us to go to church together, I figured Good Friday must be a pretty important day.

The only other time we went anywhere as a family was an Irish wake. Chicago back then was not only home to the Stockyards filled with cattle, swine and sheep. It was also home to large groups of immigrants. And my father would always want the family to dress up and go to an Irish wake, hoping, as he so often said, to meet “someone from home.”