Posts Tagged ‘prayer’

Orderly Praying: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

February 21, 2017

It’s wonderful to/
hear your faithful home teacher/
truly pray to God.

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Ascending Prayers For A Mamma’s Boy: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku Lament

February 15, 2017

Prayers are ascending/
for him, because we are all/
Mammas boys at heart.

Wild Man’s Service: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

February 9, 2017

A wild man worships/
in God’s House, sees a need, leaps/
to his feet and serves.

Testimony Bare Prayer: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

January 14, 2017

When Saints have a strong/
testimony of God, they/
teach when they’re praying.
Original:

When you have a strong/
Testimony of God, you/
teach when you’re praying.

Sunset’s Prayer Beam: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

May 15, 2016

I watch the sunset’s/
solitary beam reach to/
heaven like prayer.Sunset's beam over Lake Winneconne, Wisconsin May 2016, with purple martin silhouetted

Prayers For A Friend’s Surgery: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

December 29, 2015

A friend had surgery … and many told her she was their prayers. These are the result
She may not know it,/
But hundreds of knees have bent/
For her to be blessed.

She said: Ok now don’t you make me cry !!
Tears are mere symbols /
that our emotional cups /
are overflowing.

Do You Have A Bike Path And A Red Chair? Revolutionary Blogging Free Verse Poem

March 12, 2015

The storm is coming./
It’s in the air./
You can feel it
gathering strength.
Friends, relations,
loved ones
are already being
blown away.

Church vaults open.
Worried, wondering,
hopeful,
folks peer inside.
They see the dirt,
the cobwebs,
smell the dank,
the dust,
the mold
the hidden,
the historical documents
they feared
all along.

And they wail
and rail.
“WHAT!?!!
Nobody told us!
We were LIED TO!
We were deceived!”

Were we?
Would they tell
their 9-year-olds
about 50 shades?
Would they expose them
to everything?
Or would they protect them
and show them
the good?
Let them feel
the joy?

I have no problem
with that,
with being protected.
I have no problem
with historical documents.
I never feared them,
though I knew they were there.

Why not?
Because I have
a bike path
and a red chair.

Each time
I drive my children,
my family,
my friends,
past a sloping path
for bikes
and pedestrians
that lead
from learning
to home,
I point out the spot
on the path.

It once overlooked
a baseball diamond,
red dirt infield,
green grass outfield.
Close to the tunnel,
it now gazes
into classrooms
and offices.

But the path
is still there.
“There”, I say confidently,
“is where it happened.”

“There is where
I learned
more than any degree
could give.”

“There,
on the side of the bike path,
knowledge streaming,
tears streaming,
is where
I learned,
and knew
what is true.”
“God lives.
Jesus lives.
He died for me.
He loves me.
The Book of Mormon
is the Word of God.”

I believed it,
but I needed to know it.
And I now point
to the bike path.

“Yeah, Dad/Dave,
we KNOW!
You tell us
every time
we drive by,”
they say.
At least they know
that once I doubted.
Once I questioned.
But then I asked.
And now they know
that I know
what I know.

The red chair?
It’s probably long gone.
The apartment
above the Friseur
where two young servants
shared
a bathroom
with liquid-defecating
winos
is probably
someone else’s.

It was there,
in the red, overstuffed
chair,
I read,
I wondered,
I questioned,
I asked.
It was there,
leaning back,
thinking,
that I learned
more that I needed
to know.

The Boy Prophet
was and is
inspired,
a prophet,
like Paul,
like Peter,
like Moses,
like Adam.
God’s servant.

I didn’t know
before that.
Although the bike path
showed me truth,
I didn’t get all of it
then.
The red chair
gave me more.
Only a few
(like you)
now know
what I now know.
Ich weiss.

I’ve had more
insight
since.
Even when not
in the flock,
I learned
“Tommy True Tone”.
But the bike path
and the red chair
built
and are
my foundations.

How did
that happen?
God promises.
I believe.
Each time,
I asked.
“Ask!” He says.
So I did.
And do.
And He answered
and answers.

Now the dank,
putrid
air
flows out,
and past misdeeds
of venerated,
honored
others
come to full light.
They blind some.
People hide,
or cry,
or anger,
and get confused.
They leave.
“We were deceived!”
“We were lied to!”
They cry again
and again.
Where will they go?
I wonder.

Didn’t they know
this was coming?
From Oz,
and from the Internet,
and from billboards
along I-15,
I heard these voices
long ago.
Even before then,
“Know the Truth!” pamphlets
were passed out.
Truth,
slanted,
was there.

There is truth
in exposure.
Some of it
IS disturbing.
Some of it
IS surprising.
Some of it
IS disgusting.
Some of it
IS shocking.

I stay.
Why would I leave?
Where would I go?
It doesn’t matter
Moses killed.
It doesn’t matter
Peter ear’d.
It doesn’t matter
Joseph dug for gold,
and had hormones
and made mistakes,
and adapted his story
to his audience,
and used
when advised not to.
Folly.
It doesn’t matter
if there were Mountain Meadows
flowing red.
It doesn’t matter
if God’s servants
hid full truth
to protect me
and us.

I know:
It’s simplistic.
I know:
It’s easy.
I know:
It’s not complicated.

None of that matters
to me.
I asked.
Then I have walked
on a bike path,
and I have sat
in a red chair.

I know.

Preparation For A Spread: Romantic ImproVerse Free Verse Poetry

February 18, 2015

The course
has been set,
laid before us.

What preparations
need to be made
before partaking
in such a sumptuous spread?

Personal cleanliness is paramount.
Though we’ve been preparing
long before,
at last
a cold bath,
warm tub,
hot shower
is needed.

Each makes their choice,
as they also do
for their appropriate attire.

Then, as part of both anticipation
and preparation,
we would, together,
call upon Him
for the blessings of heaven,
each in our own way.

Lastly,
I would be pleased
to share
through the power which we share,
which Father has bestowed,
with hands on her gentle head,
words which are not mine,
but divine,
being with us
and in tune
and focused.

Thus, in all ways
right
and righteous
and tuned in,
we are then prepared
to participate
and partake
wholly
and completely
and righteously,
even if not
quietly.

Hear I Am Here: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

October 4, 2014

When I cry to Him,/
He says: “Here I am”. I should/
also “Hear I Am.”