Emptiness Without Jesus
Posted: Sunday, September 18, 2011
by Marijo Phelps
This is a series of poems written before I was born again
Mortal Love
It’s a numb nothingness that I feel
A nothingness that can't be touched
By laughter, only by tears.
Cry, cry you lonely tears
While I try to squeeze out
The loneliness drop by drop
How can I wring it dry
When the very source is loneliness?
And you? You are gone.
Youth
You’ve lost it again
You let it slip right through your fingers
And float
Away
Away
Away
It's gone
He's gone
And there's nothing left to start over with
It drifted away
Cloud by cloud
Dream by dream
And I can't bring it back to me
No, I can't bring it back to me.
Rebel
Rebel without a cause,
Shouting without a cry,
If he'll always exist like this,
Without a life he'll die.
Rebel without a cause,
Yelling without a cry.
Won't even listen to loved ones,
Who see he's living a lie.
Rebel without a cause,
Screaming without a cry,
He lives a pitiful wasted life,
Empty, he does cry.
Rebel now with a cause,
Calling out with a cry,
At last! But it was too late.
Alone, he did die.
(The rebel eventually came to Jesus!!!)
I have since then met the Prince of Peace and have never been the same since!! Jesus is most incredible!!
Come by my blog spot for more photos and interesting reading: http://myincrediblelord.blogspot.com/(C) Marijo Phelps all rights reserved. Use with with proper credits.
Marijo Phelps,saved by Jesus grace in 1974, from 9 years atheism into His loving arms. She is wanting to spread the good news about His redemptive plan for our lives through written media. Her name is pronounced Mary Jo. She was an RN for 23+ years, missionary with YWAM,statistical analyst for Every Home for Christ 9 years. Her first poem published when she was four years old. (her mom had much to do with that!) She has been writing ever since.
Her new blog can be found: http://myincrediblelord.blogspot.com
Her new blog can be found: http://myincrediblelord.blogspot.com
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)Well crafted, tight ideas, flowing toward the inevitable end. Filled with the right desperation, you point us toward the real goal.
Yours, Christofer
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