Do. Create. Achieve.

A poem of encouragement for my daughters and any other woman who faces the doubts of worthiness. God loves you and you are worthy of His love and what He has called you to. Go in His strength.

She placed her wager, she placed her bid,

She thought she could and so she did.

Then fears and doubts raised their ugly head,

They filled her with anxiety, panic, worry, dread.

What if she faltered, perhaps even failed?

What if she worked so hard, but to no avail?

She was born for this, this she knew,

This was her destiny God called her to.

She felt her heart tug again, as a little girl,

“Follow me, my child, and change the world.

I have not called you this far to leave you alone,

You don’t have to change the world on your own.”

She dug deep, resolved to fight her way through.

With the strength of God, her belief renewed.

“I won’t give up!” she cried through her tears.

“I refuse to waste all this work, all these years.”

She checked her plans, she wrote her lists,

With inner strength and with clenched fists,

She faced her fears, she faced her doubt,

And punched them both in the mouth.

She knew she could, she still believed,

Now it was time to do, create, achieve.

Go Deeper

We are all much deeper than the layers of our skin,

Too often we judge by the outside, only by what we see.

Judging the book by the cover, assuming how things might be.

Will you choose to go deeper to know what goes on within?

 

How can we know the struggles, buried deep inside?

How can we know the depression or the mental wars?

How can we see the heartache and battle-weary scars?

How can we know the brokenness or tears of late nights cried?

 

We are all surely broken. It started at our birth,

But God so loved He sent His Son to heal, save, and set free.

He came and willingly chose to die, in place of you and me.

We are all broken, but can you understand our worth?

 

We often forget we’re a child of God, even as we struggle on.

We often get it wrong, hoping, believing in an instant cure.

We say, “Just pray enough, believe enough, it’ll work for sure.”

Child of God, the battles continue, it’s the war that’s been won.

 

Remember, you’re His child, remember He’s your Lord.

Especially in your brokenness, you are called to stand.

You’re not called to surrender, but to the battle at hand.

When you take your last breath, then lay down my sword.

 

Praise be to God, we are not alone in the stormy night.

Life will be a struggle as we head toward our home.

Truth is we are all on the journey, we are not alone.

We have His Spirit who is constantly with us in the fight.

 

Embrace the brokenness, embrace the clashes deep within,

Listen, heed the voice of God should you choose to hear it.

There is peace in the midst brought only by the Spirit.

Life struggles are to point us to trust and lean on Him.

Remember

On water, land, and in flight, they answered the call,

Protectors of liberty and right, against evil and the wrong.

Marching to a different drum, they sang a different song.

Misunderstood by many, as to why they gave their all,

 

America, these are your daughters, these are your sons,

These are your warriors, who gave all when they gave.

We recount to the generations, the valor of the brave.

Now we are the watchers, we volunteer to be the ones.

 

Listen now, dear children, of our country’s warrior band,

Hear their stories, honor them, be proud of their fight.

How one could give their life in pursuit of the right.

Grasp what was given since the beginning of our land.

 

As the flags are lowered, and the lone bugle plays.

Turn your thoughts to heroes, and the sacrifices made.

To the guardians of freedom, and the high cost they paid.

To those with warrior hearts, who stepped into harm’s ways.

 

You are their legacy, the torch is passed down to you,

Hold high your heads, as Tap’s last note is played.

Hold tight to their memory, and never let it fade.

Salute, remember and give these heroes their due.

Twenty-Four Hours

What if in twenty-four hours, your life was going to end?

How would you spend your last day, on this earth my friend?

Would you throw the grandest party, going out in style?

Or sit quietly with loved ones, your last emotion, just a smile?

Would you attempt the wildest things, your money could afford?

Would you sit in contemplation, reviewing your life before the Lord?

What about selling everything you own and giving it to the masses?

Or take stock of what you have, waiting, hoping this crisis passes?

Would people reminisce how you cared for only stuff and things,

And would they cringe and remember cuts, and jabs, and stings?

Would they remember your helping hand, no matter what the cost,

Would you be missed immediately, with tears and heartfelt loss?

What if in twenty-four hours, your life was just a memory?

Would you be quickly forgotten or would you leave a legacy?

Life seems to fly by quicker than the fastest eye can blink.

Live, laugh, and love, it goes by quicker than you think.

 

 

 

Out of the Fog: Ode to the C.S.S. Alabama

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On June 19, 1864,  commerce raider, the Confederate States Ship (CSS) Alabama was sunk off the coast of Cherbourg, France. She had an illustrious career of effectively badgering and frustrating the Union navy for several years. Her short history mirrors the fight of the Confederate States’ quest for independence.

**Don’t have time to read? Click on the audio above to listen to the author read this poem.**

 

Out of the fog, thick as night

Guns are readied for a fight

Prey caught in helpless flight

Crossing sea foam capped with white

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
On her prey she does bear down

Seeking silver, gold and crown

Across the vessel a warning sound

Onward comes the Southern hound

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
Do they run or do they stay?

Do they die or bounties pay?

Perchance to live another day?

Quickly! Death cometh wearing gray

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
Pockets are lighter, but lives are saved

Death and burning have been staved

Only loot and pillage craved

Bounty counted while Dixie’s waved

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
Ah, Confederate prize yet again

Paid to Semmes and his men

Will terror of the sea ever end?

Sweet victory sails into the wind

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
Why this commerce raider? Tell, what for?

She’s a Mavor pirate, no less no more.

Feeding rebellious chests of war

A lustrous guardian of hell’s double door.

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
She was like the South, fast and furious,

The cause she hailed a little spurious.

Many a merchant Yankee left furious.

Less drawn to battle, more to luxurious.

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
Too little in skill, too much in fame,

Preying on unarmed and the lame,

Yankee cursing at sound of her name,

Men un-battle tested when it came.

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
One day off the coast of Cherbourg, France,

Accepting the invitation to the dance.

With a little skill, lots of hope in chance.

She came with great pomp and circumstance.

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
From Kerrsage broadsides cannon roared

Hot lead through Rebel mainsail soared

Sweet Union victory at last was scored

Damage final, complete, they’ll not board

The C.S.S. Alabama.

 
Mourn the end of this marauder,

This profitable Southern daughter,

The Gray Ghost, now lying underwater.

Should we sing her praises, shall we laud her?

The C.S.S. Alabama

 
Eight gongs were sounded on the bell,

The South’s great tide also, losing swell.

A yet oncoming quiet of Rebel yell.

A great symbol of cause remember well.

The C.S.S. Alabama.

Forgive Me – A Memorial Poem

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Forgive Me – A Memorial Poem

by T.J. Allen

In honor of those who sacrificed to defend our country and the ideals of freedom. On this Memorial Day; remember the fallen.

Forgive me if I do not stand up,
When they pray in somber dress and suits.
When I show no emotion at playing of taps,
Or any kind of gun salutes.

Forgive me of little move to comfort
As loved ones grieve at their loss.
Excuse the absence of tears unshed,
Though, I, all too well have felt the cost.

I understand the principled honor.
I understand the stubborn pride.
I understand the pushing forward,
When fear pushes hard inside.

I understand the courage shown
To help one’s comrades in need.
I understand the sacrifice given
I have watched our heroes bleed.

So, forgive me if I do not stand up,
When men of God shall pray.
I lie still in homage to the warrior
On whose casket I now lay.

With white gloves, I am folded,
A triangled memorial to a fallen one.
In a case or on a mantel sitting still,
Remember my daughter or my son.

Who loved honor more than life,
To protect, guard, and defend.
Forever in our hearts now cherished;
May their memory never end.

So when you see me flying high,
Over schools, banks, or capitol steps;
Remember the brave ones departed,
And the tears of the broken hearted wept.

Remember the brave living ones yet,
Whose lives are on the line for you.
Brave in the field and those at home.
Embodied, in the red, white, and blue.

The Raven Revisited

Gold featherI have always been an avid reader and have always liked the work of Edgar Allen Poe. I was reading his famous “The Raven” some time back and thought about how dark it was. Yes, I know he was lamenting his loss of Lenore, but it was so bleak. So, I rewrote it from a Christian perspective.  Here it below: “The Raven Revisited.”

Once upon my life so dreary, while I wondered weak and weary,
Over many a squandered chance of lost opportunity yore,
While I staggered, strength-sapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my cold heart’s door.
`’Tis some mournful feeling,’ I muttered, `tapping at my cold heart’s door –
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was my soul’s dark December,
And my depression a dark amber wrought its light upon the floor.
Eagerly searched I relief of sorrow; – loneliness like wasteland yarrow.
From my deeds, smoke of a claro – sorrow for a life abhorred –
For the rare and radiant prospect whom the angels all once adored –
Useless here for evermore.

Downtrodden my spirit hurtin’ dark as the color of rare aged burton
Thrilled me – filled me with final feelings never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some specter entreating entrance at my cold heart’s door –
Some unknown specter seeking entrance at my cold heart’s door; –
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew weaker; straining at the voice of the speaker,
`Sir,’ said He, “You must seek forgiveness for sins performed before;
But the fact is you were napping when the Spirit came a rapping,
And so kindly He came tapping, tapping at your heart’s door,
Oh, great Spirit kind I hear you’ – here I opened wide the door; –
Brilliantness there, and so much more.

Deep into that brightness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams I, mortal never dared to dream before;
But the silence now was broken, and the radiance of love awoken,
And the glorious word there spoken was the wonderful word, `Adore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Adore!’
“Intensely love” and so much more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me yearning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely fact is my lonely life has so lacked this;
Let me see then, what practice and this mystery explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
‘Tis the Spirit and so much more!’

Open here I flung my moral sense, with examination to recompense,
In my soul stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
With all Godly obeisance made he; resident stopped and stayed he;
All, with mien of the Lord, prayed he, entered he into my heart’s door –
Entered he a heart so callous just inside my warm heart’s door –
Entered and resident forevermore.

Then this golden bird compiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the splendid and fine decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be grand engraven, thou,’ I said, `thou art sure a haven.
Stately and ancient raven directly from the bright morning shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Day’s Heavenly shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Forevermore.’

Much I marveled this splendid fowl to hear discourse so candid,
Though its answer commanded – great relevancy bore;
For I could not help agreeing that any forlorn human being
Is set free by just receiving the Spirit within his heart so sore –
Freedom explodes within the accepting weary heart so sore,
With such name as `Forevermore.’

And the raven, sitting bold he to my living soul, told he,
That one word, as if his being in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Others you have yet saved before?
Of my sorrow relieved me, as my hopes have not soared before.’
Then the bird said, `Forevermore.’

Startled at the sadness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters I will take stock and store,
Flown from his Happy Master whom a merciful dream caster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs release burden bore –
Till the dirges of his hope freed within me all burden bore
Of “Forever-evermore.”‘

Now the raven a stately piling set my glad soul now so flying,
I wheeled a cart and danced within my soul like never once before;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this grandiose bird of yore –
What this glad, gainly, ghostly, gaily, and promising bird of yore
Meant in stately `Forevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the capon whose loving eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
He shall press, ah, forevermore!

Then, methought, my mind grew clearer, from the fog as from a mirror,
Removed by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Salvation,’ I cried, `my God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Freedom- freedom meant He, from sure damnation bore!
Freedom from the chains of past sins my soul damnation bore!’
Quoth the raven, `Forevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `of souls retrieval! – prophet still, of hell’s upheaval! –
The throne of emerald rainbow came thee to settle this one score,
Desolate my soul undaunted, a desert land disenchanted –
Prospect of hell horror haunted – once yes, but no more –
There is – there is a balm in Gilead? – He is glorious Heaven’s door!’
Quoth the raven, `Forevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `of souls retrieval! – prophet still, of hell’s upheaval!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
A once dead spirit now awaken, a different road I now am taken
Of this salvation no mistaken, Jesus to whom the angels kneel before –
Not angels only but all creation and mankind shall all kneel before.’
Quoth the raven, `Forevermore.’

At that word light dream defying, with echo of saints glorifying –
Shaken from the night’s vision and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
On bed a gold plume as a token of the truth to soul was spoken!
My thought train still unbroken! – of the raven, salvation galore!
Life to my heart, a new creation of salvation of truth, not lore!’
Quoth the raven, `Forevermore.’

And the raven, voice committing, in mind and heart, still is sitting
Whether dream imagined or somehow real from heaven’s door;
And his echoed voice all the seeming of an angel in my dreaming,
The eternal lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his light in my core;
And my soul now regenerated, liberated, exonerated, redeemed fore,
Shall be lifted – forevermore!