Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Issue 1

Read more great Christian poetry at New Psalms!

by Stephen R. Wilson

I live. I'm respected.
But they don't see me when I fall.
I perform. They watch me.
And my show fools almost all,
All except the One.
He just sits in His seat
Noticing every time that I miss the beat.
He wrote the piece and He sees.
He knows how my life should be.

Bright New Day
by Stephen R. Wilson

I feel a bright new day is dawning.
On my back, its sun is shining.
Finally, all my clouds are passing.
On Your face, I see love calling.
Everything I never knew,
I don't want to know.
Because everything will be all right
As long as the sun keeps shining
And you keep reminding
Me of You.

Every Single Mistake
by Stephen R. Wilson

Every single mistake, every error I make,
Multiply into consequences I can’t shake.
I nudge the ball and it returns to maul,
Unable to run,
I don’t feel like trying to crawl.
Continually victimized by what I create,
Crippled from escape, I lay here prostrate.
I won’t fight. I won’t waste my feeble might.
Can’t help but see that I never will succeed.
Why, why, why strive?
My motto has become
“Don’t live, just survive.”

For Them Your Life You Sold
by Stephen R. Wilson

Not talking, not sharing. Just hating, cold staring.
All love here is fake. I wish my family would just break.
I’m right and I’m outcast. But soon, this will all be in the past.
The only Christian in my family, no one tries to understand me.
Why can’t they see how much better their life would be
If they would only choose to believe?
But I can’t care about their fate. I’m going to leave them and I can’t wait.
Their problems I can’t face. I don’t want to be a means of grace.
Should I get out? Or struggle through?
Leaving is easy, but is it what I should do?
Jesus, change my heart. I don’t want to be cold.
Help me to forgive and please keep reminding me
That it was for them, Your life You sold.

I’ve Heard it All Before So Never Mind
by Stephen R. Wilson

Blind leading the blind,
It still happens all the time.
I’ll give you a couple of pennies,
But your thoughts aren’t worth a dime.
So tell me all about your life,
Your chronology of committed crime.
On second thought,
I’ve heard it all before so never mind.
I’ve heard it all before so never mind.

by Stephen R. Wilson

Robbers and radicals all.
Into the oblivion of time, the great men fall.
Our memories of the greedy and the extreme
Will eventually fade like a dream.
But we’ll never be rid of their damnable theme.
On ambition and pride
The tide of humanity rides.

Missing a String 
by Stephen R. Wilson

I have been walking for many, many days,
Alone, with no company along the way.
I'm getting frustrated. I just want this journey to end,
But something keeps pushing me on, beyond the next bend.
Up ahead, I see a comfort to those like me –
The light of an inn, to meet the traveler’s need.
There is a fire on the hearth
And the gathering room is filled with people in mirth.
The mistress grabs me and offers a deal.
She says, "A song in exchange for a meal?"
I reach around, fingering the neck of the instrument I carry,
And someone calls for the tune, "Lovers, Make Merry."
I accept and start to play.
The guests get up to dance without delay.
I know the piece, but I falter at the eleventh bar,
Suddenly unable to strum or to sing,
Because I realize that if my life were a guitar,
I'd be missing the most important string.
So though the song is far from done
And regretting to interrupt the others’ fun,
All I can do is re-sling my instrument and walk back through the door
Resigned to continue my pilgrimage, alone, once more.

by Stephen R. Wilson

You push.
You try to wall me in.
You force your agenda on me
And I suppress my own.
I suppress and I suppress
And I suppress myself.
I give in to what you want
Just to make you happy,
Just to keep the peace.
But then you push me too hard
And I break.
You push me too far
And I'm over the edge.
You push me too much
And I fall right into you.

by Stephen R. Wilson

Our predecessors constructed the building.
They were oh so careful in their planning.
Leaving us to fill in the décor,
They didn’t include a door.
Now we’re trapped within their structure,
“Sheltered” by their cover.
With nothing left undone,
There’s nothing new for us under the sun.
We’re bored and unable to leave
Because there’s nothing new for us to believe.
From where will our purpose come?
We have no hope,
But we’re still hoping for some.

Read more great Christian poetry at New Psalms!

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