White Christmas Writing In the Snow 22 years

White Christmas Writing In the Snow 22 Years

Pearl Anyone?

1. 

Just look and see the many creations and know that this cannot happen by chance or through mixing a bunch of gunk in a pool for millions of years.  This is design, and that's that.

Here And Now

Here and now our world is in turmoil.
Everywhere you look there is a leaking barrel of oil
Ripe for the pickings, the natural gas is being siphoned.
Even the blasts from previous sites, deters not the drilling impassioned.

A disaster of mega proportions, still effecting the shores.
No one wants to take the blame, and the people grow tired and snores.
Dear Lord, we need You more than we need Oil.
 

Nearer to You I do desire to draw, as tight as a coil.
Oh Lord touch the hearts of the greedy and fill the hearts of the needy.
With our resources thrown to the world at large, we miss our truly needy.

Here and Now let us draw a line in the "oil soaked" sand and take our land back from the depths of greed and avarice it has plummeted into.

Here and Now let us be united as a nation and find the proper ways to heal our broken shores and our aching national pride.

Here and Now let us fall upon our knees and pray for Israel, the United States of America, and let freedom ring again from sea to shining sea.

What will you do here and now?
On to my knees I can but fall.
Needing the heart cry to be heard.
Take oh Lord our labors and let them bear fruit.

You, who read this, who turn away before you reach this line.
On you the survival of our nation depends.  The survival of the world indeed.
Unafraid we must be and declare for the world to hear.

Stand up and make our presence known.
Take up the Cross and carry it into every town.
Adjure the people to repent and turn from their sins.
No, beloved, it is not an exclusive concept but His love is all inclusive.
Dip into the strength that we've always had through learning.  

I ask you, I implore you, beg of you here and now, won't you stand?

Fog

Folding in upon itself.
Blocking out any view.
It's thick and dewy wet.
Like breathing water ashore.

Of where it goes or from whence it comes,
One can but guess and to the mist succumb.
The sky invisible and the ground ethereal.
Golly gee it's like pea soup around here.

Bump!  "Ouch.  That tree wasn't there a minute ago.
Ah, now I know where I am."  You say out loud.
One, two, three, reach.  One, two, three, reach.
This dance is performed until at last you pass the forest.

Come along my friend and walk with me.
For at last the fog has lifted and we can see.
There is no more wondering, or doubt,
This way we must go in order to get out.

Fog.  It's a mysterious thing.
You can about it begin to sing.
Going hither and yon, with care you must use.
Otherwise in the end you can have a concussion, your body abuse.

Fog, it's a cool thing.
About it I would surely sing.
Yet I'll save your ears,
For in the talent of singing, I am in arrears.

Fog
by Steve Cope
Poet's Practice Pad
Prompt #45
07-13-2010 Awarded Blue Ribbon in writing.com
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The Dark Cope Wants to Write - Dark Tuesday, Flex Writers Cafe

The Dark Cope wants to write.
Has there been a subject other than pain?
Every line typed and every line written from his pen has been living.

Darkness within that still remains is screaming, "let me out"!
An anger that is as real as the pain that causes it roils and boils.
Rearing and confrontational, no more sitting back and lack of a shout.
Keep your heart open and vulnerable, you will see what pain uncoils.

Come with me and listen to the words I have to say.
Oh don't worry there will be on cursing, no dripping gore, only a pain that must get away.
Poring over the words that are deep within the anger is present, created by pain.
Emotion is livid and heart beats are increased.  Must I write forever in vain?

Will you understand in the end that I am in pain?  Or will you say, it's all in your mind?
A healing, a catharsis, of a sort has taken place.  But there is a coil that simply must unwind.
Nearer draw to my presence, for then I will at last be able to write the pain that is within.
This is no faker y, no imagined aching.  This is pain that has been here so long, before men.

The pain is in my arms, pushing on my nerves and causing me to want to pout.
Often times it is so odd that I can write and still be in pain, an anger curling seeking to get out.

With a controlled hand, an aching heart, and a part of me that is anger filled, the pain resides.
Resting from time to time, only to come again to steal the joy that I have had in seconds fleeting.
In an effort to maintain my calm there has to be a release, a bit at a time, till it subsides.
There have been times when it wasn't so fleeting, but raging and tearing and destructively real.
Every thought of anger created by the pain that still lies locked within this body wants out!

The Dark Cope Wants To Write, but for now has subsided and there is less adrenalin, less remembrances, and less loss of hope that was there before.  The Dark Cope Wants To Write and it is my hope that should you have a "dark" within you, that you will allow it to write a little at a time until one day there can be a hope of peace that heals.

The Dark Cope Wants To Write
by The Dark
07-06-2010
FlexWriters Dark Tuesday with Kristine

I Have A Story To Tell

I have a story to tell, will you have a sit for a spell?

Here in this very place we are tonight, tragedy struck, what a sight.
A balladeer came into our camp, and let me tell you she was a scamp.
Very well did she play that guitar, I must say,  But who knows what became of her car.
Everyone wanted to know her story to be sure, and at last she did say, "okay sure!"

I Have a story to tell but remember you did ask, so let me be about my task.

As I was coming up the road to the camp grounds, I began hearing some strange sounds.

Seriously!  I did stop and get out for but a moment, and smelled the foulest of scent.
"This cannot be good."  I said to myself and paid my admission, pulling tightly my hood.
Oh the attendant did not seem to notice the smell, even though it smelled like this side of hell.
Retching and almost losing my cookies, I stopped again and took a little lookie.
Yes!  There was the source of the foul smell.  Someone did not put out their Pell Mell.

To my surprise, much to my fright!  The attendant came up behind me and we began to fight.
Ouch!  He jabbed me in the eye, and it's kinda funny cause soon he'll have a stye.

Things got weird after that, and I had to use my taser upon his flat.
Every bone in his body did shake, and his gun I reflexively did take.
Lowering to the very nose of the creep, the barrel went off without a mere peep.
Lucky for me there was a silencer, and now there are more bullets to create more slaughter.

I Have A Story To Tell, but let me say before it ends, you are the final chapter and you didn't even yell. Next time you'd better remember not to be so friendly, and don't leave lying around your dirty old Pell Mell.

I must tell you, I really must say.  I escaped with my life but oh I really did pay.
The things she said just resonated in my mind, and those Pell Mell's soon did I upend, dead!
I come here every year now, hoping to see her again and with her have a pow wow.
For you see even though she was a good balladeer and a killer too, she saved my life and now I have to tell you my story has to end.  For now I really need a stick of gum, anybody got some?

 Copenator out!

We Are Free!