Tag: poem

“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…

On By taylorspoetrycornerIn poem, poetry, spoken word, Uncategorized2 Comments

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…

On By taylorspoetrycornerIn poem, poetry, spoken word, Uncategorized1 Comment

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…

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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! ”

The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore. (PS 121: 5-8) Even in the worst of times God is always there to pick you back up and continue you on your road to greatness.

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A Sorrowful Dance

By Edward Taylor III

A Sorrowful dance in the wind, performed by an excluded soul lost in sin, tears fall as pirouette’s call to the lost soul,

hopelessness twirls with blind perception, darkness calls with a malicious obsession.

Broken inside, strength subsides, to a sorrowful dance in the wind.

“Where is the comfort, the loving embrace, who will wipe these tears from my face?”

Under the stars you can see the dancer scarred:

Leaping to grasp the joy seemingly so far out of reach, distant as the mocking moon, silent & sweet,

Who is this that dances with sorrow in the wind?

The motions of this dancers’ gloom ignite the fierceness of question: “Where is my hope, where is my solace, where…

WHERE?”

The ground is struck, pounded by clinched fists,

“NO MORE!”

Is the cry as the dancer sits, drenched in sweat & self-regret: with eyes to the sky & arms raised the dancer is lifted up by the wind to dance once again,

Then a whisper is heard in the night sky:

“Hold on my dancer your salvation draws nigh”…

As morning rolls into night, days pass by, life goes on: But who takes the time to appreciate the gift that’s been given? When you open your eyes to see another day take a moment to look around you, realize the blessings that found you, let your eyes breath in the beauty that surrounds you, & observe the poetry…

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Something Poetic

LIMITLESS

There’s something poetic about life even the simplest things can contain the greatest of meanings. Like rain drops that camouflage a falling tear, or a drop of water sliding down an empty glass as it reflects the expecting & hopeful eyes of a bride to be, or like the calming breeze that blows threw the branches of trees; reminding you that no matter what obstacles are in your way, like the blowing breeze, you can overcome them. There’s something poetic about life from the reviving powers of the sun, to the still serenity of night, to the eyes that capture the beauty of a bird taking flight, or the marvelous colors of a flower in bloom, to the baby fast asleep at high noon. I describe things that you can soon observe, but only if you slow down, for if you take the time to escape from the stress & the strife I’m sure you’ll find that there’s something poetic about life…