Posts for Tag: Poetry

Dowdy Ferry Dogs

The Dogs of Dowdy Ferry Road

O the cruelty
O the pain.
The mangled bodies
Tortured and dumped
Like yesterday's garbage
They have no voice
To call their own
Mute creatures
Unable to speak
Yet they cry out
Through the trash bags
Though their life is gone
I hear their screams
O if but the world would listen
If only for a moment
Faint on the wind
The silent screams
Of the poor, poor dogs of Dowdy Ferry Road.

All seems hopeless
All seems lost
There is no light
Only the rows and rows
Of white crosses
Each one representing
A tortured dog.
Hundreds and hundreds
Mile after mile
Does anyone see?
Does anyone care?
My soul weeps
The tears fall.
But wait
Is that a tiny army
That I see?
Their brave faces
Their brave, sad faces
Their strong voices
Tremoring in righteous anger
As they walk the road
Shining light in the darkness
Doing all they can
To bring peace
To bring justice
To bring hope
To cruel, dark Dowdy Ferry Road

O how I love them
These brave souls
Whom I don't even know
Who stand for the weak
And speak for the mute
And refuse to allow
The community
The city
The elected ones who do nothing
And the world
To forget what happens here.
Lord watch over them
Give them strength
Shine light upon the darkness
And bring justice
To the poor lost dogs
And strength to the ones
Who are their voice
So that death and sadness
May not win
And reign on Dowdy Ferry Road.

   I wrote this for the dogs of Dowdy Road, in Dallas, where every night mangled, tortured dogs are dumped. And for the brave rescuers who walk that road and work so hard to push back the evil. 

   Dowdy Ferry Road has become a dumping ground for the unwanted dogs too, and starving dogs are commonly found there. My heart goes out to the group of brave souls, who walk that road regularly, they have put up cameras and they do all they can to gather evidence so that authorities can prosecute. Day after day they open bags, to find dead tortured dogs, and they photograph and document.

They don't get paid for this. They do it for love, they do it because it's the right thing to do. They give their time and money. They don't stop. Its gotta be hard, so very hard.

I love these people.

Rainy Day Reflections

A rainy day, clouds cover the mountain,

She arose, much like she always has

greeted by dogs with thumping tails

Another day, another morning.

The gift of life and breath and feeling.

She is slow, her brain sluggish

A slow learner, despite His efforts to teach

But she is learning

She is beginning to see that many things thought to be awful

Are indeed gifts from His hand.

Were everything as she wanted it to be

were the coffers overflowing with gold

were the ones she loves so decked in finery

with wineglasses in hand

drinking deep from all this world offers.

Were these things so where would she be?

She would be ignorant of grace

Bereft of thanksgiving

Lost in a world of decadant plenty and unaware

of the Giver of grace.

With sorrow He has taught her

With grief she has grown

With fear she has been driven to her knees

Trials she has no hope of overcoming

Drive her to the Overcomer of Trials. 

  She is content.

   She waits in peace.

      For He is enough........

       ......and it's all grace.

The Silence From Heaven

These dark nights,

These dismal days,

When I cannot sense Your presence

I know You are with me,

But I cannot feel it

I seek You but You do not respond

I cry out but You do not speak

And then it becomes so difficult

To even cry out

Difficult to seek

Prayer is a labor

And apathy seeps in

Lord you know how I hate apathy

And yet here it is

Right there in my soul

Help me to remember

All the times past

When I felt so alone

Yet You were there

I just could not see

Nor feel

But I believed

Faith is the substance

Of things hoped for

The evidence of

Things not seen

I know this truth

Yet to feel You

Makes me so alive

And to not feel You

So dead

Lord reach down

And touch my soul

That I might feel

Your presence.

Break my heart

With the things that break Yours

Crush the apathy

For it is better to be pushed down

By the sorrows of others

Than to feel nothing

Such a divided soul I am

Crying out that the burden is too great

The suffering too much

Oh to not feel for the sufferings of others!

And yet when it leaves me

I am lost without it.

Oh Lord return to me

Rip out this human heart

And restore to me Yours.

And then come along side

And bear the yoke with me

One more hill

As my son would say.

       I have found the Christian life to be one of valleys  and hills and high mountain tops. On the hills He is a constant presence, as if He were walking right there with you as a friend, on the mountain tops His presence so strong and holy that you cannot even stand before it but must fall on your face and tremble at His power and majesty, but then there are the valleys where you find yourself walking, seemingly alone, crying out to Him, Lord where are You? I have walked many hills, stood upon many mountain tops and trudged through many valleys. He never leaves you. Even in the valley, even in the silence He is there. Trust Him.

 Many wrongly assume that His absence is because something has gone wrong, this is not the case. In truth He is not absent at all, He is merely silent. Think of Joseph, sold into slavery, wrongly accused, imprisoned......I imagine he walked through some very deep valleys. Yet all the while God was working, moving, building and bringing about a great work.

   I feel the valley today, it's not a deep one, but it is there. Prayer comes hard right now, everything is a struggle, for some time now I have felt His presence so strong, so sure, so certain, and today scares me a bit. How long Lord? How deep this valley? I pray it is but a short one, perhaps a day or two. None the less, enough has passed that I know my Redeemer. He has not left, He has not stepped out, He is but silent for a time.

Heart Squeezed Out

World filled to brim with sorrow,

cringing from the pain

behind its closed doors

trapped within the fake smiles.

So much suffering.

Why do I feel it so,

why such overpowering,

empathy for the abused,

tears for the hurting?

Crying out for the broken..

Why this gift, this curse,

of bearing their sorrow?

It is too much for me,

my soul cringes

with the pain of their wounds.

And yet to this,

You have called me,

taken my heart of stone,

replaced with one that bleeds,

gushing blood staining my shoes.

No gifts of riches

to ease their way,

no healing touch,

to remove their disease.

Just words "I see you, I care for you!"

How empty the words

feel to my soul

as I speak them in love

to the broken ones,

while prayers rise from my heart.

Heart squeezed out

like empty sponge

nothing left to give,

curled up in heap

upon the more! no more!

I crawl to You,

Lord take this pain,

exchange it for Your love,

to fill  my empty squeezed out heart

that I might rise again.

Your hand reached down

and took my heart

squeezed out dry and frail.

I watched You fill it to the brim

with grace and peace and love.

I stood on legs

that quaked and shook

I stood with outstretched hands

to receive the blood filled heart

as You place it in my chest.

It was filled with but a taste

an inkling of the love

that You poured out, upon a cross

on that hill so long ago.

A love that none deserve.

So called to be Your hands and feet

and called to show Your love,

for broken ones and hurting ones,

I rise to carry on.

Fresh heart within my breast.

He is enough, Christ is enough!

All is grace

The race goes on

Run, run, run!

Every moment matters.

Attempts at Poetry

Snow Swirling on a Cold Winter’s Day

The low clouds move in fast,

Across the face of the Sandias.

One moment the mountain is visible

And the next it is gone.

Hidden in deep clouds.

Snow begins to fall,

Swirling in the wind

Falling in spiral

Cold in my bones,

Down to the core.

Softly it falls,

Frail little snowflakes

Dancing to the earth

Then fading from sight.

Winter so cold,

Like death

Nothing stirs

Birds huddle close

On frozen lines

Too cold to seek food

Miserable birds,

Snow swirling around them,

How they yearn,

For spring

Like I yearn for home,

A sure hope,

But a long wait.

I wait with them,

Cold in my bones

Down to the core

As the snow softly swirls

In the winter wind.


Today My Friend Buries Her Son

Today my friend buries her son,

He was 23 years old,

Handsome and vibrant,

Beautiful brown eyes,

He reminds me of my Adam,

One day everything was normal,

And the next he was gone.

And today she lays him in the ground.

What words of comfort can one offer

For such a time as this?

Words escape me,

Therefore I pray,

That the sorrow in my soul

Will rise up on wings

And fly to her

And she will know

That I weep….


The death of a child

To lay them in the ground

Is a deep fear of mine

Darkness fought against

Prayers upon prayers

Lifted to the heavens

On knees

Face down on floor

I know this fear

But I know not the reality.

Today my friend lives this reality

And buries her beloved son.


What comfort can I offer

What comfort is there

When one lays a child in the ground

Such things should not be

It is not normal

Should be the child

Laying us to rest

Words of comfort escape me

I have none

Only sorrow

And the hope, the sure hope

That You are there.


A Mother's Tears

I sit and watch the tears

slide slowly down her cheek,

Tears I have cried so many times,

I see them,

I feel them

as if they were mine,

For they are mine.

A mothers tears,

a mothers burden,

A heavy one,

pressing down hard,

Prayers expressed on bended knee,

Burdens pressing down,

They sap the strength,

They rip the very fabric of the soul,

Prayers expressed through tears that fall,

A mothers tears.

I see your tears,

They are mine.

Lets shed them together.

Lord hear our prayers,

Lord behold our tears,

Lord carry our burdens,

Lord grant us strength,

Lord heal our wounded souls,

Not for us Oh Lord,

But for our children we pray,

You who remember

the tears of a mother,

as she looked upon You,

Torn and bleeding,

Beautiful precious son,

Murdered on a bloody tree.

You spoke to the disciple,

Son behold your mother.

You see us,

You love us,

You hear us,

Our tears carefully collected,

In Your bottle.

We lay our children down,

at Your feet,

Because we believe,

Lord we believe.


Winter Is Coming, Long Lonely Winter 

The snow crunches softly under his huge feet,

His thick black fur rustles softly in the frigid wind,

He sniffs the wind carefully,

His senses heightened,

He smells something, something in the wind,

He knows this scent,

it has crossed the nostrils of thousands of his ancestors across the length of history,

This is no rabbit he smells, no elk, nothing edible,

In fact this scent brings the foreboding knowledge that meat will be lacking,

It will be difficult, his brothers and sisters will suffer much,

They will labor long and hard for their prey.

This smell upon his nostrils, this scent in the wind,

It is winter, long hard brutal winter,

Deep snow drifts, iced over ponds,

Prey desperately digging for the frozen grass deep beneath the snow,

Winter is coming, long, lonely winter,

He lifts his head and howls,

Across the miles his brothers and sisters join him,

Great heads lifted to the night sky,

Howling, Howling, Howling,

Winter is coming, long hard winter,

Long, lonely winter,




Words spoken fade upon the wind,

If lucky perhaps one or two will be remembered,

Or perhaps people will just say “she spoke often of this or that”

Without really remembering the words.


All those conversations,

All those attempts to get your message out,

Lost and forgotten for the most part,

Words spoken fade upon the wind.


Written words hold more hope,

They can capture your thoughts

And hold them for a time

Until said time and elements degrade them into dust.


I look back on my childhood,

Wishing I could go back

I would take notes this time

I would capture his words on paper.


I remember now how he tried so hard to impart his thoughts

Tried to put them into me, make them mine

He prayed for them to stick

But now, all I have is “he spoke often of this or that”.


The exact words are lost to me

Words spoken fade upon the wind

I wish I had paid more attention

Wish I had grasped the importance of it all.


So now I write words down,

In hopes that one day they will be read

That one day they will be cherished

That one day they will be understood.


Words spoken fade on the wind,

Words written crumble to dust over time,

But the Word of the Lord stands forever.

And that is enough for me.



Days of winter,

Winds howling cold and bitter,

Birds huddled in trees,

Snow covered mountain top.

Brown dead vegetation,

Much like the hard times,

When you wait with baited breath,

For the warmth and promise of a new tomorrow,

The appearance of death,

At first glance,

But upon keen observation,

Life goes on,

The birds seek out food

The rabbits leave their tracks,

The coyotes sing in the winter night,

Inhale deep,

The cold crisp air,

Feel the wind cutting through your jacket,

Gaze upwards,

Into the cold dark winter night,

See the stars,

Brilliantly shining,

Inhale deep,

The cold crisp air,

Alive, life, even in the winter of things.



 What strange creatures

These weathermen

Whose work is to predict

The coming day

I stand in

The swirling snow


As my weather app

Tells me zero %


Of precipitation.

Perhaps I alone

Am blessed to see

This falling snow

In dawns faint light

And the rest of the city

Is bathing in the warmth

Of the rising sun.


Beautiful New Mexico

Mountain range

Covered in snow

Sun glinting on rugged peaks

Shining like gold in the evening light.

Spectacular beauty!

Brown fields of wild grass

Filled with wild geese

They take flight slowly

Like awkward teenagers

Then suddenly graceful in perfect unity they fly.

Black volcanic rock

As far as I can see

Rugged mesa, remnants of molten lava

Coyote headed out to hunt

Desolate beauty.

High mountain lakes,

Tall pines singing in the wind,

Utter stillness and peace,

Apart from the wind song.

A place to be still and know.

Lush green Valles Caldera

Formed from volcano

Elk roam wild and free

The herd stretched out

across the valley,

Takes your breath away.

Dark Night  of The Soul

I lay quietly upon my bed,

Gazing out the open window,

Darkness is upon the earth

With points of light shining

I see the light begin to reflect

Upon the crest of the mountain

As the sun begins its slow climb

The dark so cold and frigid

Earth awaits the warmth of sun

My life of late is like the day

Of darkness and of light

Sorrows in the deepest night

With points of light shining

And when it is more than I can bear

I see the light upon the crest of mountains

The Son of glory shining grace

He rises slow some times it seems

But then there are the times of noon

When His love and grace are clear

And I bask in His glory

But of late night always falls

Coming slowly, warmth fading

Replaced by fear and sorrow

Dark night of soul

Falls upon me

And I wait

I wait

I wait

For Son to come.



Blue skies

White fluffy clouds

Setting off for church

To worship the Lord Jesus

Such a beautiful fine winter day

A short prayer walk along the Bosque

Prepares my heart to worship Him in truth

Asking His blessings upon the service and the people

Giving Him the mornings disappointments that have offset my peace.

Watching the sun shine down through the cottonwood trees

Twisting mighty cottonwoods reaching up to the sky

Winding path through the golden brown grass

Calls and bids me walk along

Birds singing from tall trees

Gentle breeze blows past

As I walk

The Bosque


A Poem About Love Without Saying Love

My heart fills with a warmth
my eyes fill with tears
my soul hurts within me
I am moved to do, to act, to move
to pray, to beseech the God of heaven...
to reach down and touch you.
I awake in the night with your name upon my heart
the God of everything reminding me to pray
for you, for your situation.
This gift, this burden, no wonderful trait of mine
to which I was born and cultivated over years,
It is nothing of me
It is all of Him
for He is ..........