HERBAL ESSENCES (ODE TO SENSIMILIA) - MARC's PARC POEM

Gazing Upon the Splendour of the Cross

How's the story to start? How are we to be renewed? How do we play our part? God's every hope in us starts, when Jesus' salvation is imbued.

This salvation of old is the answer to all our problems of significance.

In struggle you'll endure,
If you lean on Christ - His Grace,
If you truly bend your heart,
Jesus helps when we seek His face.

At the cross I bend my knee,
It's where the Grace in Christ is felt,
Suddenly He makes me to see,
The card His sacrifice dealt.

Notice those nail marks,
And that thorny crown adorned,
Suddenly in our minds it sparks,
Everyone Christ has mourned.

In you and me He's done,
What only God could do,
The Father sent His Son,
To redeem us and make us new.

By this Saviour's blood,
His broken body hung up,
All to deal with our mud,
To cleanse all who are corrupt.

We have no hope without,
This Blessed Hope from above,
Whenever we get beyond doubt,
His Spirit pours into us His love.

Cherished demise was enshrined,
In God's creation plan,
From well before there was time,
God planned to become a man.

Think now of that love,
Go to faith beyond stumbling block,
To thoughts of things from above,
And every doubt He'll knock.

Now to think of what He took,
The divine purpose of what was inflicted,
When we take the time to look,
No longer should we be conflicted.

God did it once,
For everyone to know,
Christ died then for our sins,
In order that we might grow.

There's only one way out of the mess,
That many of our lives became,
In one movement we came to address,
A life that was comprehensively lame.

God revealed a broken life,
So you and I would agree,
We cannot get out of strife,
Until it is Jesus we finally see.

So, after all this, we might see also know...

In struggle you'll endure,
If you lean on Christ - His Grace,
If you truly bend your heart,
Jesus helps when we seek His face.

***

Truly, we owe God everything. Not only for life and our lives, but we owe God everything for every portion of Grace His life poured out on the cross, that makes our lives anything close to worthy. We are everything with Him and nothing without Him. God is great in every way.

© 2013 S. J. Wickham.

Steve Wickham is a Baptist Pastor who holds Degrees in Science, Divinity, and Counselling. Steve writes at: http://epitemnein-epitomic.blogspot.com.au/ and http://tribework.blogspot.com.au/

MONEY TRANSFER (MONEY SONNET) - MARC's PARC

A Tribute to An Uncle: A Story From Rags to Riches of an Imperfect Active Person

He was semi-literate,

Studied till class 4,

Skipped classes,

Withstood thrashing by parents and teachers.

Understood importance of money,

Later, learnt 'Munimi', the Indian accountancy system,

Could prepare invoices faster than engineers,

Who used log tables and slide rules;

Calculators were not heard off then,

But would have given tough fight there too.

Rags to Riches

In 1950s,

Starting selling cloth on cycle,

As a refugee from Pakistan to India,

In one of lesser developed state,

Of a developing country.

Got into lending business,

Akin to 'Pawn Shop'

Minted money,

Played hide and seek, with tax authorities,

Had to spend, couple of nights in jail.

Personal Life

He was fond of Indian perfumes,

Had 11 children, who survived,

Had a short, extra marital fling,

A weakness, but an accepted indulgence,

Of well to do middle-aged business men;

Which is prevalent world over.

Social Obligations

Looked after his sister,

Married in a salary class family, with limited resources.

Invited them, after retirement,

Set up business, for them.

But he was getting old.

His sons resented,

The sister moved out.

Life continued.

Ethics

The man, a millionaire now,

Established a school in the memory of his father.

A religious minded person,a shrewd business man,

Who indulged in corrupt business practices as well, just to save tax;

An essential evil, all over the world,

Donated enormous sums to religious places,

Never regretted or mixed the two ideologies,

Followed in business and religion.

The End

Alas, he had to abdicate the business,

Hand over the reins

To his son and grand-son,

Who did not appreciate his conservative ideas,

His interference in business, which he has founded.

He had lived his life,

His son realized that his son was to get priority,

Over his father, who has lived his innings honorably.

He was not allowed, not welcomed, in the business.

He got disenchanted,

Withdrew inwards,

Slowly forgotten by society,

Faded and passed away.

The life moved on.

The Future

Son and grandson,

Will enjoy his labor,

Till, the son meets the same fate.

A Possible Solution

If only,

He had asked his son to set up an independent business,

Helped them,

Scaled down own business,

Lived independently,

May be his life was more pleasant during last days!

A Salute to a Life Well Lived

Thank you uncle.

Your nephews and niece,

Remember you,

For all the sweet memories of their childhood.

God bless you, where ever you are.

GAIA (Glimpses of Aspiring Islamic Arts) HD

Places to Look to Publish Your Poems

After a press conference (my last at that time), when I could no longer go out the house often, I explored the web community. After my husband's death and while taking care of a sick mom, I found good places to write and good places to blog. Of course, no one has to die or to be sick first, but then, that was how it came with me.

I retrieved my old poems, my poems from a workshop and my love poems. I saw my high school poems, Where Did We All Come From and Goodbye Dear Grandmother.

I also found some six poems, submitted to Dr. Marjorie Evasco (of our Poetry Class), where the kind teacher offered me to join a writer's workshop for free (which I declined because of a house chore). Thank you dear teacher for the challenge, and I am sorry for not having the guts and seriousness of a poet, that time.

My journey to the places of where to publicize my poems required and entailed hard work. I felt those moments grand and exciting; at other times, haunting. I thought someone, readers, or at least you, would read my poems and be with me. I wrote the words. I restrained some phrases. I came to you.

I had written Death Row on Poemhunter.com. I had thought about Haiti, sores, healing, blood dripping and Uncle Scrooge wilting in pain; hence my lines imposed "Prepare the heaven, open!" I thought of pleading to God in the screams and agonies of battlefields, pain and confusion.

The poem Three Bottles came while I was alone with my mother (may God rest her soul) in the hospital, years ago. I was literally counting the drops of blood in the bottle till it filled the brim.

"It makes my brain shiver and my hands tight with each other." So I thought, there was no other way, but to pray!

Truly, vivid pictures of memories are gifts from God. They have to be shared, as they are an enormous task of poets and writers to fulfill.

Conversations Across Borders, Read Write Think, Yahoo Network, Google+, You Tube, Worldwide Poetry, Prose and Poetry Global, Shadow Poetry. Com, Filipino Poet's Circle, Blogspot websites, and WordPress blogs are places to look to publicize your poems. And there are still many others offered by the I Share Community!

So write your poems, create your own blogs or sign up. You can join challenges and prompts online. Literary magazines are also accepting contributions from both amateur and professional writers.

SAME OLD SONG (ARSENAL SEASON REVIEW) - MARC'S PARC POEM