The Spirit of Christmas Gone Wrong (a poem)

1 Cor. 16:14 "Let all your things be done with charity."

Spirit of Christmas

Where has all the loving gone

in the hectic busy throng

of people scurried and buried

in the hustle and bustle gone wrong.

The spirit of Christ left behind

nowhere to find the peace

within my mind as all the souls

entwined by greed are blind.

Empty souls filled with hate  

it's clearly too late as your fate 

is sealed in a tomb with no room

for the saving grace to bloom

The spirit of Christmas shed

dead for the One who bled in 

His word we were led away 

from the dread that bears the dead

From where I stand my life is grand

the world is bland in no man's land

flames all fanned by the hate of man

it is with the love of Christ I stand.

The Spirit of Christmas will thrive

strive as I might to stay alive when

the peace surrounds me that I’ve 

been forced from man to survive.

Poetry Sunday ~ Sight of the Night Soul

Sight of the Night Soul

The stars have splashed my blinking eyes.
Blinding me with its disguise.
Now the light may crystallize.
All that I have seen.

The tree bears fruit of every kind.
To thee I wish to be defined.
For all the light now has me blind.
Senses nearly keen.

Confused by sight and sordid sound.
Truly lost what I have found.
Kneeling on the trodden ground.
From thee I must be weaned.

I hide behind the night lights shower.
Not to frail I will not cower.
Safely under the bridled bower.
The storm clouds thus convene.

Lofty soul these things I seek.
Strengthen me when I am weak.
Of this earth among the meek.
Grasping sights unseen.

Poetry Sunday ~ Have We Forgotten

Luke 7:16 And there came a fear on all: and they glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is risen up among us; and, That God hath visited his people.


Have we forgotten?

*** 

Everyone seems to celebrate Easter
sitting at home on their keister;
gobbling down all the ham
forgotten is the Holy Lamb.

Glory to the Risen King
songs of praise to Him should ring.
For all the love and sacrifice
the blood for us should suffice.

Long forgotten is the Word
messages are never heard
We toy, we change all He taught
to fit our needs, like food for thought.

We justify all our deeds
by planting all unworthy seeds.
Are we to plant in desert soil
or boldly sow with weekly toil.

Minimize our earthly duty,
we give ourselves over to beauty.
Lame creatures, contentedly being,
shame on us for never seeing.

For me it is all praise and glory,
in my soul dwells Jesus’ story.
My soul remains entwined to His
I’m shown the truth of all Easter is.

Quotation Saturday

POETRY ~

Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
~Carl Sandburg, Poetry Considered

Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.
~Percy Shelley, A Defence of Poetry, 1821

The distinction between historian and poet is not in the one writing prose and the other verse... the one describes the thing that has been, and the other a kind of thing that might be. Hence poetry is something more philosophic and of graver import than history, since its statements are of the nature rather of universals, whereas those of history are singulars. ~Aristotle, On Poetics
 

Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
~John Keats

PHILOSOPHY ~

When he to whom one speaks does not understand, and he who speaks himself does not understand, that is metaphysics.
~Voltaire
 

My definition [of a philosopher] is of a man up in a balloon, with his family and friends holding the ropes which confine him to earth and trying to haul him down.
~Louisa May Alcott
 

Upon the whole, I am inclined to think that the far greater part, if not all, of those difficulties which have hitherto amused philosophers, and blocked up the way to knowledge, are entirely owing to our selves. That we have first raised a dust, and then complain, we cannot see.
~George Berkeley

Being a philosopher, I have a problem for every solution.
~Robert Zend

HAPPINESS ~
 

Happiness is always a by-product. It is probably a matter of temperament, and for anything I know it may be glandular. But it is not something that can be demanded from life, and if you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness.
~Robertson Davies

The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise grows it under his feet.
~James Openheim

Often people attempt to live their lives backwards; they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want, so they will be happier. The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want.
~Margaret Young

Can anything be so elegant as to have few wants, and to serve them one's self?
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Poetry Sunday ~ The Shell Remains ~

Psalms 34:17  The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.
***
The Shell Remains
(c) Joni Zipp
***
I sit in the hollow halls of pain
with nothing to comfort but the rain
they say, they say they care
when really they mean, when I’m there.

I’m alone in this fragile world of mine
greedy paws take away my shine.
like a flower beaten by a deluge
something grander something huge.

Abandoned by my nearest and dearest
all of them that dwell in the fear fest
I bow to the wind and all its fury
unleash on me His reigning glory.

When I’m happy, you’re by my side
a wonder of words in which I confide
but when I’m down and at my worst
my body shreds as if I’m cursed.

You leave me to dangle like a thread
about to break by the fiery dread.
Walls collapse, my mind reformed
like a babe about to be born.

I can not stay in this lonely shell
where loads of lies run rampant as hell;
the fire burns endless my soul will not sour
I’m controlled by love and a Higher Power!

All rights reserved: copyright © joni  zipp

Poetry Sunday ~ Oh Heavenly Father

Pss.33:21 For our heart shall rejoice in him, because we have
trusted in his holy name.
***

Oh Heavenly Father
(c) Joni Zipp

My burdens heavy
I walk alone,
I can only do
what I am shown.

Oh heavenly Father carry me
help me Lord to understand thee.

Though my life
has me blind
I always seek
but never find.

Oh heavenly Father set me free
from the pain of reality.

I do not question
this wonderful task
I can not hide
behind a mask.

Oh heavenly Father now I see
You have a special plan for me.

All rights reserved: copyright © Joni  Zipp

Stranger

Stranger

***

A Rockwell moment unfolding
in the corner of my mind.
I peek into the window
and here is what I find.

A  loving family gathered
the table set with food,
plates, cups and napkins
all to set the mood.

Merriment streams throughout,
knees are slapped in joy,
I see the kids all running round
as they play with a new toy.

A bloodline runs through the veins
this family linked as one.
Like a warm woven blanket
it shall never be undone.

Standing in the pouring rain
just where do I begin?
I realize I’m a stranger,
on the outside looking in.

Poetry Sunday ~ He is Risen ~

He Has Risen!
***
After the love and glory
forsaken was our Lord.
Judged, beaten, abandoned
given to the hoard.

They cried out, “Blasphemer
hang him, let him die.”
He did nothing wrong, yet
“Kill him!” was their cry.

The cross a heavy burden
weighing his shoulder down;
blood swept his forehead
piercing thorns his crown.

“Please forgive them Father
for they know not what they do.
I now commend my spirit,
your hands I fall into.”

The sky blackened; the earth erupts
people fall to their knees.
Realizing the Son of Man
had calmed the mighty seas.

The sepulcher is empty
the angels came to say.
“Your Lord is now among you
He has risen on this day.”

The Messiah came to save us
through all that he had seen.
Our darkened spirit cleansed
the slate of sin wiped clean.

Praise be to heaven
to God and all the earth.
For loving man enough to bless
us with our Savior’s birth. 

***

May you all have

a blessed

Resurrection Sunday!

***

Luke 24: [44] And he said unto them, These are the words which I spake unto you, while I was yet with you, that all things must be fulfilled, which were written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the psalms, concerning me.

[45] Then opened he their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures,
[46] And said unto them, Thus it is written, and thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day:
[47] And that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.
[48] And ye are witnesses of these things.
[49] And, behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you: but tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high.
[50] And he led them out as far as to Bethany, and he lifted up his hands, and blessed them.
[51] And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven.
[52] And they worshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy:
[53] And were continually in the temple, praising and blessing God. Amen.

Poetry Sunday~ Slam Poetry?

Proverb 17:8 A gift is as a precious stone in the eyes of him that hath it: whithersoever it turneth, it prospereth.
***

Why I write...

I write because words, like a slow effervescence, shower streams through my veins like blood, forming sentences which I know to be verse. I write so all that is within me bubbles to the surface and is put onto paper making sense of all the insanity.

Whichever way I go, whether up or down, verb or adverb, they all tend to lend credence to what I have taken from my brain and brought into your reality. I see letters in my mind forming words which in return form a sentence that I give to my readers and they decipher the madness and relate to my brevity.

I clearly have no special form because I invent the reality that the readers are saying that they can relate to and I know deep within my soul I have touched someone on a magnanimous level. They may see me as a human conveying a message whether in fiction form or non-fiction form, but one can grasp the meaning because they’ve been there.

Hold true to who you are and write what you know. No matter what anyone tells you to change, keep the truth always front and center in your heart and mind. One day you too will find the words attached to the letter...ACCEPTED!

***

A simple exercise in f2k offered by a mentor.
My answer surprised me as it turned into a poem, if you will.
This is Slam Poetry or as some call it Beat Poetry.
Definitely a sign of growth in me
and my writing!

***