You read 'His Inspirations'

that exault Our Savior Divine

And you think to yourself...'my, my...'

the writer...must be 'saint' sublime

But you could hardly know

of my...'long ago'...pines

You see...Jesus plucked me from the filth

He said, 'come my child and bind'

When at last, I accepted His hand

we sat...and did dine

He took away the marijuana

...one day at a time

Then He rebuked the drinking

replaced it with His...True Vine

Cursing and other carnalities sped

my eyes were opened - no longer blind

Astounding, albeit...this once 'worldly maggot'

who feasted wildly...on pride's wine

Was chosen by Our Savior

to bring forth...'His'... inspired rhymes

Now...often along the way...I've tripped and fallen

but His Love...ever sweet and kind

Has always helped me up

placing me right back...in line

To barrel's bottom...thru the stench and miry grime

the Lamb of Calvary reached...reached...to call me 'Thine'

Yes...this present poet of our Living God

an instrument...some now term...'fine'

Wandered thru this world...so lost

...so Tarnished...but for a time.

Rom 8:1, Gal 2:20

copywrite; joyce m bell/7/31/2009