Poetry Blogs (Religion)

As friends solemnly told him to call
On them if ever he needed anything,
Only his pastor was candid enough
To tell him Jesus alone would stay.

And so it was as it had always been,
Walking alone on the beach, in town,
Along the highway, and in the upstairs
Hallway with no memory of being carried.

He supposed Jesus was a faithful companion,
But a bit quiet, and not much help when
A fla...

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You ask if I believe in God...
How can I not?

To deny my Father
means I leave my existence
to some 30 year old predator
who impregnated a girl half his age
and left her to raise their child
in the wilderness, among wolves 
that feed on loneliness and despair.

Without my Father, I would never know
that after suffering comes deliverance,
pain leads to compassion,
forgiveness breaks b...

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Know how in the 1970s the televangelists
All had perfectly sculpted and blow-dried hair?
Well, my Daddy was at least partly responsible
For all that glitz and fancy get-up.

He didn’t do hair for anyone as famous
As Pat Robertson or Jim Bakker, but
Styled hair for some big traveling evangelists
Like Gene Williams. These guys would take the
Word of God around the world, but come back
To G...

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Oh, Good Lord, y’all, I thank we better git in the house. That sky is darker than Brother Jimmy’s sermon last Sunday, and it’s flashing like a God-damned disco. It’s gonna be a gully washer, all right, but Ronnie’s got the big truck if we git in any trouble, and we can surely trust Jesus will be with us. The last time we had a toad strangler like this, a big ol’ twister turned Alma’s roof inta too...

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In a previous century my grandfather died

Only weeks after my great uncle.

A few weeks later, my grandmother

Made a quick trip to the grocery store

And returned to find her house in flames.

Having lost her brother, husband, and home

In a matter of weeks, my uncle Skeet

(so known because as a child he was

No bigger than a mosquito or “skeeter")

Tried to comfort his s...

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This isn't the last train. But the late train

has no quiet cars. If a baby squalls no conductor

shushes her. You must shush her yourself.

The late train has no dining car. So board

this train now, or pack a picnic, your own

tablecloth, napkins, napkin-rings, silver,

porcelain. The late train has no schedule.

Depends on how many girlfriends the brakeman

wants to vi...

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Translation of my Arabic Poem (“The Choice”) 

Who, in the World, chooses his birth? 
Who chooses his family and children? 
Who chooses his fate and country? 
Who chooses the time to go to heaven? 

But it is possible to choose our day 
To sincerely care about family and work 
This will be the first right step to our future 
To achieve our goals while we're alive 

Your name and countr...

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Ashes in a jar

It has been said, that the road to hell is paved with good intentions

Not always lies and deceit, or other people’s pretentious

How can we even know where the path will be

The sign often obscured, impossible to see

Is it the left hand path, or maybe the right

Or, perhaps the middle ground leads to the light

Left wing and right wing mean little to me

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