I wrote this poem about a church I attended when I was still at home. It broke my heart to go back and see my old church that way.
The beauty that once beheld this church- Now has gone away
Oh how it breaks my heat into- to see it here this way
This church once strong and beautiful- Now stands silent and still
The elders now have all gone home- I guess it was God’s will
The happy times we had back then- Are now just memories
I stand here and behold the sight- Of what now has come to be
We use to gather in this house- To sing and praise the Lord
Now the windows are broken out- Not much roof left anymore
There use to be an old stove- That kept us warm inside
And ceiling fans here and there- To cool the summer nights
Now it stands here silent- The church bell does not ring
But, if you listen- you can almost here- The saints of God still sing
THE SAINTS OF GOD THAT GATHERED IN THIS BUILDING WAS THE 'CHURCH'. AND THEY ARE STILL STRONG AND BEAUTIFUL...WHEREVER THEY ARE. AND...'IF YOU LISTEN...YOU CAN HEAR...THE SAINTS OF GOD, STILL SINGING'. BEVERLY, YOU ARE A PART OF THE 'BEAUTY' OF THAT BUILDING THAT STILL REMAINS. THANKS FOR SHARING, MY DEAR SISTER IN CHIRST, AND MUCH CONTINUED HEALING IN EVERY AREA OF YOUR LIFE. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
This must have really hurt you, walking on once-hallowed ground. Thank God for the blessed memories to encourage you each day.
I enjoyed reading it.
Welcome to Authors' Den! I wonder if you are our New Year's Baby!
Oh my gosh, you've touched me deeply with this write! First of all let me say welcome to the den. Your write is refreshing, honest and sincere. You've penned a beautiful portrait that mimicks the little church that I once attended as a little girl and a young Christian woman. Not many of these left, that are still used...but I agree with you the spirit of God never dies...I could just envision sitting in the abandoned building and feeling the spirit of the Lord gently sweep over me! Well done, so glad I stopped by your den, I will be back to visit soon.
Blessings from Kentucky,
Joyce B.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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The poems in this beautifully bound book are a result of over twenty years of observations. Observations of the world around us and on the telecommunications network. All of the hate, love, heroism, disasters, and those who help.
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Be safe,
Karen
I enjoyed reading it.
Welcome to Authors' Den! I wonder if you are our New Year's Baby!
Connie
Blessings from Kentucky,
Joyce B.