(Love Poem) Kiss Of Love

Kiss Of Love 

 

May I kiss you my love, my sweetheart my beautiful Bride

May my lips caress the tears of joy from your Angelic eyes

May my tongue dance on your belly, your breasts your thighs

Close your eyes now my sweet let your mind in pleasure drift

Let your thoughts be only of the sweet nectar that you give

 

 

Your delicious rose petals give to me my sweet lady tonight

Dream deep now my love of my lips on your ankles and toes

My tongue on your feet kissing you softly into paradise

Past your ankles, your knees, my breath on your thighs

Heavens gate opens to please as my tongue dances softly

Onward and inward my lips caressing the petals of life

 

 

I love the sound of your moans your cries of delight

I love you my darling, I wish only to please you tonight

Kissing and caressing upward to your beautiful breasts

You surrender to my breath as my lips encircle your buds

Now only your moans and tears of your pleasure do I see

Surrender now softly my love into my arms for the night

(Love Poem) Tear Drops On Her Heart

TEAR DROPS ON HER HEART

 

The dribble on the stick

Says she is a Mom to be

Boy ran off didn’t wanna hear it

Clinic could remove Her, or live in shame

 

Go through a Church and quietly have Her

Boy feels no shame for the crime committed

Give your Baby back to God, or a life with others

Keep Her for yourself even if your family shuns Her

 

Takes a will of steel to say you’ll keep Her

Without a Daddy there are two hearts breaking

Piety sticks their nose where they have no business

Single Mom’s life is filled with love and hardships

 

Someday a Man may appear, be a true Prince Charming

A true Man, not a Boy, to become a Husband and a Daddy

Takes a lot more than sex to become a Woman of a Man

Tear drops on Her heart as she holds and Keeps Her Baby

Poem To My Sister: So, Your 64 Today

So, Your 64 Today

 

I remember the days of our youth, do you

Do you remember all the different homes

Three States, and in several yards we played

Being poor white trash and Mom’s heartaches

Little eyes see and they can understand so much

 

One Tyrant in a child’s life can ruin their psyche

Good Cop, Bad Cop played out at home every night

The Farm in the dirt road hills and the starting of school

Black Hills Gold and the Faces carved into a mountain

Faith and Deadwood, a dead man’s cards fell once again

 

Our growing up years in a place so cold and foreign to us

No matter the forces we always hooked arms side by side

You have always been there for me, I love you dearly for it

We have both seen and overcome life’s trials we were given

My Sister of the Cloth in the End OF Days we shall both see

64 Today my Sister: and of you, I could not be any prouder

 

Holy Man By Choice, And/Or By Grace

HOLY MAN/OR WOMAN BOTH CHOICE AND GRACE

 

Like it or not we all are what we are

We can choose our path, to the light or the dark

If we choose to walk in darkness, that is our choice

The light still shines even then, if we choose to see

We choose to walk in and stay in the light or the dark

Not by accident, it is a choice that each of us make

 

 

I am what I am because I love the Son of God,

But do we love God more than the toys of man

We all sin daily for just like you, I am just a man

If I forgive, and hold not against you

Will you in like kindness, give, as I give to you

 

 

Being a Man of God is an honor given

Not from our own righteousness, but grace

For such kindness is given, only from above

It is difficult to have the heart of a hawk

And yet to have the spirit of a dove

 

 

Being a Man of God, is something I long prayed for

To have a soul full of God’s Spirit, love and Grace

Always willing to speak what you now know is the truth

The world will rage at the words that you dare to speak

Being kind, decent, and loving is no life for the meek!

Poem Of Honor And Remembrance: 88 Tomorrow

88 TOMORROW

 

Mom, tomorrow you will be turning 88 in my heart and mind

At 69 a reckless driver did take your heartbeats away from us

In Mind, Heart and Soul your still with us every day we breathe

Your life here ended so quick I hope that you suffered no pain

10 Minutes before you left I got to speak with you one last time

 

Age gives humans certain handicaps, as it deteriorates our body

Wrinkles and physical infirmities do scar the face of our youth

We get declining strength and some of us even do go blind

The real crime of age though is when disease destroys our mind

For the memories of our loved ones smiles are what keeps me sane

 

Yet age does also give us glories like wisdom and vast maturity

Now Spiritual Maturity becomes how we discern ones true beauty

With age our Faith does grow strong along with judging fairer

You know I am no doubting Thomas, we will see each other again

Turning 88 Tomorrow, I still love you now as I loved you way back when

Religion, Personal Type Poem: Our Gifts To God

Our Gifts To God

 

Have I set my heart and Soul to the will of God

Have I not given my own gold and silver to the poor

My hands worked willingly for the constitution of good

Do our people rejoice, do we give of our riches willingly

Do we not know that all things we have, were first God’s

 

I tithe above the Pharisee’s and the Sadducee’s, is this not good

If we are blessed with wealth, can we go through the eye of a needle

The poor may bless our gifts but the Lord knows if our heart is pure

When the poor donate their last dollar the Lord sees their sacrifice

Rich and poor live and die, our kindness or greed, now The Lord judges

 

If we give to make a show of our ‘kindness’, we are as phony as our love

When we help the Church, friend or stranger remember to close your mouth

The Loud Mouth garners the adoration of men, and the anger of the Lord

When we give, do so quietly for what we do in secret the Lord rewards openly

Giving of our-self to God’s Grace with love we will be rewarded from Heaven above

(Theology Poem) Your Blood, My Sins

YOUR BLOOD, MY SINS

 

Lord, You bled and You died, for all the likes of me

My body and my Soul that was so filled with sins

Lord my only doubts has been my worthiness of Thee

Riches I have never sought yet in darkness I still walked

With Your love, Your blood, all barriers You’ve broken

 

Lord, Your Eyes, You have set upon the likes of me

Lord Your Blood does baptize both heart and Soul

My fears are diluted in Thy Holy Heart and Blood

I fear not this life nor the death that is soon to come

For my sins are washed in the Holy Blood of the Son

Great Poem (not one of mine): She Kneels At His Stone

(THIS ARTICLE IS COURTESY OF Norman Junior HaleGeri Hodgkinson and 2 others posted in Appalachian American Folk Lore And Knowledge.

 

Norman Junior HaleGeri Hodgkinson and 2 others posted in Appalachian American Folk Lore And Knowledge.
Norman Junior Hale
May 27 at 12:07am
She Kneels At His Stone

There she kneels
There at his stone
Feeling so lost
And yes so a lone

With tears running down her face
All the way to the ground
Steadily flowing down
Yet they are not making sound

She thinks of their love
Of the day they first met
And just how he looked
The day he left on that jet

As she wishes she had him to hold
Just to hold him one more time
When this world turns so cold
For no simple reason or rhyme

She remembers the time
He surprised her with roses in hand
And a ring in his pocket too
And she excepted him as her man

Tears roll a little harder
As she thinks of their twenty years
Of all their years together
She has some happier tears

She wanders about younger ones today
How could they burn the flags
They are a symbol of so much more
Than just a bunch of torn up rags

She kneels there at his stone
Gripping The cross on her kneck
Praying they’ll meet again
For now she’ll show him respect

Love is a powerful thing
It works on your brain
Pulls at the heart strings
Giving everything a strain

So she’ll kneel at his stone
Every little chance she gets
Not just because she feels alone
But also through her respect

Written 5/26/2018 by Norman Hale Jr.
© 2018 Norman (All rights reserved)

She Kneels At His Stone

There she kneels
There at his stone
Feeling so lost

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When We Are Squeezed, Put Under Pressure, What Comes Out Of Us

(THIS ARTICLE IS COURTESY OF THE WEBSITE ‘GODINTEREST’)

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The Squeezed Orange of a Psychiatrist

The Squeezed Orange of a Psychiatrist

A psychiatrist was preparing for class and decided to take an orange with him. He began to talk to a bright young man in front and asked him, “If I squeeze this orange, what will I get?”

He looked at the Psychiatrist and answered, “Juice, of course!”

The Psychiatrist said, “Don’t you think I could squeeze apple juice from the orange?”

Laughing, he said “No.”

“What about grapefruit juice?”

He said, “Nope.”

The Psychiatrist asked again, “What would I get from this orange?”

“Orange juice, of course.”

He repeated his question, “Why? Why would I get orange juice from an orange?”

He answered, “Well, it is an orange, and that is what it has on the inside.”

The Psychiatrist nodded and said, “That’s right! Let’s think that this is not an orange, but it is you.

Someone puts pressure on you and says something you don’t like.

You get offended. Fear, bitterness, hatred, and anger come out of you. Why did this happen?”

The boy answered, “Because those things are on the inside.”

Now we have to consider what’s inside of you and me, because Matthew 15:18 says,

“But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man.”

Jesus was squeezed and forgiveness, love, and mercy came brusting out of Him.

He taught us that regardless of people insulting, beating, humiliating, and treating Him worse than a criminal that we should afterwards show love and forgiveness! It was under the mighty impulse of love that Jesus took our place in the universe and invited the Ruler of all things to treat Him as a representative of the human family.

He identified Himself with our interests, took our guilt and its penalty, and offered in our behalf a complete sacrifice to God.

Jesus identifies His interest with ours. He represents Himself as personally affected with all that concerns us.

If we are wronged, maligned, treated with contempt, our sufferings are registered in the books of heaven as done unto Him.

If we would become like Christ and receive His fashion of character, we must in little things train the soul to daily progressive sanctification. Acts make habits and habits constitute character. There is no fear of overlooking great things, but there is peril in overlooking and undervaluing little things.

Let’s be filled with that love that comes from God, and let’s live each day by His side.

Now the question that we must ask ourselves is: “What comes out when we are squeezed?”

Her Last Ride

This is the first time that I have ever taken a Facebook post done a copy, paste on, then put it here on this Blog. It only takes about one or two minutes to read this short story but if you will take that moment of two it may warm your heart some on a cold day.

(I first posted this article on February 7th of 2016)
John Giovanni's photo.

John Giovanni

Last Ride
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift, I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.
Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she asked.
I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’
‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’
‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly.
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice. ‘The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and she would sit, staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now’.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.
There are other passengers,’ I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.
What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We are conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID ~BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.
At the bottom of this great story was a request to forward this – I deleted that request because if you have read to this point, you won’t have to be asked to pass it along, you just will…
Thank you, my friend…
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance. J.L.

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