Dusk, So often we pass through this moment of the day, so engulfed in our activities, we rarely find the time to appreciate the amazing gift of masterful creativity displayed for us at the end of each day; I urge you to take some time to stare out your window for just a moment, take a breath, be grateful, & slip away into…

SUNSETS’ PORTRAIT

By Edward Taylor III

A rarely captured masterpiece begins to form with the skillful touch of a painter’s brush,

Clouds lightly shaded with a whisper of rose line a blue highlighted evening sky.

A hint of pollen rides upon the breeze of this soft summers’ eve.

The sun begins to retire its post in wake of night’s new moon-

The horizon dances with the colors of autumn as day fades into night;

The rush of life begins to slow..;

The last burst of orange reclines to memory, & just as briskly as it arrives

It sets.

All that is left is the reflection of what once was

A Day…,

A Time…,

A Life…

All concluded by a moment under the shadow of Sunsets’ Portrait…

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“A gift is as a precious stone in the eyes of him that hath it: whithersoever it turneth,it prospereth.”(Pro 17:8) Do not neglect the gift with-in:But rather know that the gift of God placed in you is meant to be shared by the world. People of God we are to display & proclaim the magnificent grace of God on this Earth! “By the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain” – Apostle Paul (COR 15:10)Be found in the like precious faith of the Apostle Paul & realize for yourselves that you were not given a gift in vain: But rather realize you are what you are by the grace of God, a wonderful extraordinary…

Gift

By Edward Taylor III

Watching atmosphere tears hit against the glass as I pass the time away considering the events of my day,

I start to realize the weight of troubles on my mind,

Trying not to stress I comfort myself knowing that I’m blessed,

But still there’s something else…?

A gift has been imparted to me, the remarkable ability to transfer pain, joy, love, & sorrow onto paper.

I understand that the gift I have received is one of many ways to explain the trials of life.

The emotions felt in every word are as sincere as the untainted love felt when a loving mother see’s her child for the first time.

I lookout scanning the dream like scene of trees dancing in the breeze, their leaves blending with the atmosphere tears, which fall from the sky above;

Then I hear the call, the same call my brothers & sisters hear when their gift beckons them,

It pull’s us into a realm of immeasurable creativity, inspiring works that will be etched onto the very tablet of time itself;

When our works are completed our emotions, our hearts, & our lives are then put on display.

You see us, you hear us, & you read us, this is who we are, gifts right there for the whole world to experience.

We are poets, song writers, musicians, & painters.

We are Artist…

We are Gifts…

Dream Day or Day Dream? Is a poem I entered for a contest for FORD Motor Company,The winning prize was your poem or story becoming a commercial and you would win a 2010 Ford Mustang. Well I didn’t win so I’ve decided to post my entry to see what you guys think about it; is it a winner? You tell me, this is my…

Dream Day or Day Dream?

By Edward Taylor III

As I Wake up in the morning there’s only one thing on my mind, my first drive in my supercharged beast of a mustang;

I ignore the demands of my wife & kids until I hear the voice of my Angel ask me if I can make a diaper run.

Without an answer I grab my keys & head out the door embraced by the clear blue sky & the burning rays of sun shine.

I look at my gleaming custom oval blue pony as the sunlight bounces off its black & chrome 20 inch track shoes.

Opening the door I slide inside & get hugged into position by the black leather & blue suede bucket seats,

I slide the key into the ignition awakening all eight hundred force-fed ponies,

I fondle the gearshift into the desired position, simultaneously grabbing my sunglasses,

As I drive up to a fresh red light I begin to notice that no one else is on the road with me, an evil sinister grin finds a place on the face of a saint,

The engine revs to screaming heights, the light turns green, & I stomp the go pedal & disappear into a cloud of Smokey rubber, at the same time a thought passes through my mind,

“Man, I Love Day’s Like This”!!!

YES! Summer has finally hit the North West, so to celebrate this special occasion I wrote this. I hope you enjoy it as you take a journey to the beach with me on a beautiful…

SUMMERS DAY

BY Edward Taylor III

The scent of French Fries mingled with the pollen of newly budding flowers fill the air,

juicy burgers & sweet teas followed by waffle cones dripping their sweet tears liter the tables of board walk bistros,

While sun drenched bodies are massaged by the clear blue sky, Cool waves run onto the sea-shore interrupting a barefoot stroll along the beach;

A pleasant conversation takes place in the background, Two lovers holding hands celebrate their 52nd summer together, while a young man kneels to his love under the shade of a tree;

The sound of classic beauties, rumbling by, in a parade so pristine they can’t help but to catch the twinkle of an eye;

Roller blader’s & concrete surfers roll by, as the laughter of two best friends filter through the noise of their favorite summer song;

Not a cloud in site to accompany children flying their kites,

I smile as I turn & walk away, my heart swollen with joy, As I’m blessed to say,

Thank you LORD for this beautiful Summers day…

“Where there is no vision, the people perish” (Pro 29:18) your dreams, your visions, are the very essence & fabric of Gods purpose & intent for your life. So many spend their lives yearning but never seeking for the answer to these questions “what is my purpose?” or “Why am I here?” Instead you spend your time & your energy in frustration living “paycheck to paycheck” ignoring the cry of your heart. This is a poem of that very thing; a poem of what happens…

When a dreamer Stops Dreaming

By Edward Taylor III

What happens when a dreamer stops dreaming?

When there are no more goals to hold his gaze,

His passion a prisoner behind the bars of selfish rage,

Nightmares of failure haunt his sleepless nights,

Frustration begins to consume his starved will to fight;

His expressions are now empty,

They’ve become idle words on a page;

All he wanted was for people to listen & be inspired,

But no one paid any mind to the gift that he gave,

So the dreamer stopped dreaming in the process of time,

His pen left useless, no more thoughts to line;

So what happens when a dreamer stops dreaming?

This is a question I ask myself;

The answer to which remains unknown,

Simply because this dreamer is determined to dream,

Even if he is destined to dream Alone.

Keep dreaming & keep your vision a live GOD BLESS- “For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry”. (Hab 2:3)

(ROM. 8:26-27) Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God. To be intouch with those who suffer among you: To feel the flooding of emotion when your co-laborer obtains their victory: To understand the heart of those that surround you is to understand…

The Cry

BY EDWARD TAYLOR III

Strong cries & tears rise up with-in, with my hands raised I receive the weight of responsibility as I’m ushered into the presence of God: Strong cries & tears rise up with-in, I suffer the pain of my brother, the anguish of the mother, I perceive the sorrow upon my sister, I peer into the burning desire for an uncorrupted purpose of a fathers child; Then I hear their cries, a sound so loud it’s like thunder when it cracks the sky; emotions erupt out of souls when their cries explode like a volcano; hopeful spirits waiting to prevail shake with the pain of a mothers travail: Strong cries & tears rise up with-in, marking the moment the wailing begins, my shoulders bear the weight of every prayer requested, this is the intercessors burden, it is here we are tested, this is the cry: Strong cries & tears rise up with-in, drops of fervency smite the ground again & again, our screams are unleashed, in the cry we become priest, we stand in the gap to shield the flock from the enemies attacks; We stand posted on our watch, waiting & watching, our eye’s full of expectation; our praises seed the clouds of promise, our strong cries invite the windfall of healings, & our tears display the sincerity of our hearts, as we take up the cry of God’s people before our King. I approach the throne of Christ heavily laden with Strong cries & tears that rise up out of me…

Even so we, when we were children, were in bondage under the elements of the world. But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying out, “Abba, Father!” Therefore you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ. (Gal 4: 1-7) – This poem came to me on a cold breezy night; the wind blew chilling me down to my bones then I remembered what God has said & I spoke ” I’m not subject to the weak and beggarly elements”, I remembered who controls the wind; I looked up & though it was cold & windy the stars where shining, I was reminded of the one who gave them their place; The awesomeness of our father was brought to mind & so I wrote…

Weak & Beggarly

By Edward Taylor III

I am not subject to the weak & beggarly elements for its MY LORD, who commands the wind,

The Lightning reports to him & receives its instruction,

The Ocean is tamed at its sandy borders awaiting its orders,

The whole host of heaven hastens to perform his word,

At the fierceness of his decree the thunder claps, the trees applaud, & the earth is struck silent in awe…

“ Creation stands in agreement.”

The Wind is his messenger delivering his judgments from the throne of the Most Holy,

His sent one blows cold & true cutting deep into the soul, cold as the chill from a harsh winter’s breeze.

I stand in the mist of this tempest reminded of who I am…

“ I am not subject to the weak & beggarly elements for it’s my LORD who is

GOD! ”

A place where poetry has it's own expression