Heart Powerhouse of the body Eyes of the mind, Abode of the father, Connection to the spirit The source of life. I am the door that wisdom came knocking To guard with all needed diligence; Against anger, malice and deceit, Against lust, hatred and greed. I am the weakest member But by me you gain…
We’ve got great news! With pleasure Parousia brings to you the Publication of Parousia Magazine Christian Poetry Chapbook Number 3. IN GOD’S DUE TIME: “THE STORY OF MARY ROWLANDSON IN VERSE” by Dorie LaRue. Download and enjoy this amazing Poetry Chapbook. DOWNLOAD NOW
morning: beauty drips like soft light. red autumn leaves. dressed for a meeting i wear a costume of respectability. walking near the lake i stop to watch dark desired waves. a playful storm floats out of sky. children play in shadowed forests. i am wind. Click Here to Download Rick Davis Christian Poetry Chapbook …
There was a time When my soil was Frozen so hard That I was only A faint shadow Of what I am today. Once, everything seemed To slip through My fingers But now I have drawn the curtains On unhappiness And recline Beneath the Green-grey leaves Of mystical olive trees. I have severed Ambiguous…
quiet blends with the sounds of the frig and hesitant rain drops sliding down smudged windows blackie, the timid feral cat visits, and I give her food in grey rain. i close my eyes and notice my expanding consciousness streaming in silver light touching God. Rick Davis lives in the Chicago area, USA. …
Falling asleep softly I watch fresh new leaves On the twigs of trees. An owl is perched on the Bony branch above. The sun sets And whirling waters flow From the crystal clear brook. Lying on the thick blue-green wild grass I watch stars Breathing in Eden’s millionth star And my heart laughs Watching…
she walks smoothly so fragile in her loneliness and as she smiles it is as though all the winds go to heaven. she speaks to air – i imagine in some distant kitchen wrapped in abandoned teardrops. her bright pink dress is covered in wooden clothespins. she slides on damp cement – fluid melodic.…
the wind is quiet in trees. a sixth sense guides me. a rustle of wings and a tangle of vines and leaves. hipsters with spiritual anorexia block crumbling sidewalks. i am tuned to the earth’s music and voiceless ground. fantasies like glass bubble to consciousness. small sharp rocks. colors are like vibrant crayons. perfectly…
