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This week I am posting poems I wrote for birthday cards for an uncle and a cousin of mine. Critique and enjoy!

The Pallets and the Craftsman

The pallets, stacked to the side,
Have seen the strain and struggle of a burden
Now left for useless, they feel so purposeless
But, unbeknownst to them, they are being eyed.
For them someone can a new purpose provide.

Now a hand, able and strong
Is taking, creating from that wood stack
Something for his service, something with a purpose
According to what he’d dreamed of all along
And they too shall see it before long.

From work-scarred and roughened boards
He builds a bench and brushes it with paint. Now
It thinks with joy of the service it can employ
The weary it welcomes to the rest it affords
A refuge from the clamoring hordes.

Restoration’s not unknown
To you. At times you struggle and sorrow on.
You have wrestled with the weight of life much too great
For you to uphold ev’ry day on your own.
Yet know, craftsman, SomeOne hears you groan.

The wrestling with the weight
The struggle proves the soul is true and tempered.
You’ll endure uncertain tomorrows and sorrows
The Master Craftsman’s love can the pain abate
Of those who for His coming await.

So strive and struggle for Him,
For He’s the only Master Whose burden’s light
The sweet relief you find with Him is never brief
Though living within a land of sufferings grim
May His joy fill your heart to the brim

 

 

Bloom and Be His

A single chord, one brave note
Little by little it builds to a symphony
A tender heart, one brave soul
Used by the Master, they ring with His harmony
As an instrument that he hold in His hands,
Let your heart be His

A single bud, one brave plant
Little by little it groweth up to beauty
One willing heart, one brave soul
Patterns the Master, can mirror His purity
As a vibrant bloom that He tends with His hands
Let your soul be His

A servant seeking His will
Watching for ways to serve His Master well
A humbled heart, that’ll gladly
Bow to the Sovereign and lowly before Him dwell
As a messenger yielding under His hand,
Let your lips be His

All of His children must grow
Little by little to achieve His likeness
A simple trust, a loving heart
Father’s fellowship knows in all of it’s fullness
As a child holding on tight to His hand
Let yourself be His