Posts in category: poetry

In the boat of my heart, He sleeps!
Awake on my watch, aware of my touch.
The toiling, whirling wind lends its fan,
The railing, roiling rain sheds tears.
Yet I do not fight. No flight.
His word is my bridge.
The clouds are rent,
the lights blaze,
the heavens vent,
their voices boom.
His love has stolen my doubt.
His presence propels me
His words incubate me
I still the wind
I still the lightning
I still the storm
I quell the ranting of the heavens
His word is my bridge

CHRIS N. JOHN

A voice
Like John’s
full of melody
Full of cries
Untainted in its purpose
Marinated in mission.
A voice
Like David’s
Musical with strings
with a slayer’s sword
warming the master’s heart.
A voice
not an echo
Solid as a lioness
An Eagle unimpaired by the wind
Victorious like the Son.

CHRIS N. JOHN

There is a knowing
Sitting right on the bed
Of my mind
Rocking my being
Through my veins
It beats my nerves.
To ease my fears
No! I am not scared.
To be weird
Not afraid to stand out
I play the extras to surpass
Not the extras to wakapass
But they all like the heat.
Locked out
Of the wind of my art
I am too deep.
For their shallow, deep
I am too complex.
For their contrived crap
Do not bother to know.
If you can’t understand
For like results in like
But take this
It’s true
The knowledge of me
Is as easy and true
As a blinking eye.

BY:
CHRIS N. JOHN