LAST WORD, CAME NEW by Mide Benedict

And he survived not becausehe couldhuman he was toomade in form of fleshy toolto know, to feel, to see

Dumped with a kiss

by the one he loved

led to the wood

by the ones, be saved

ripped off and stripped

Naked his body was

showered upon him was

spittle! pain not little!

burden dropped upon his shoulder

weak he was, but strong

not that which dwelt in the body

but that burdened by love

And he survived not because

he could

human he was too

made in form of fleshy tool

to know, to feel, to see

to recognise, to be part, to behold

the challenges of man- so he could bare

the doom man was then sure to share

and it dropped from his body, BLOOD OF REDEMPTION

just like man made to bow for his own pain

Upon that wood of sin

he still blessed, cured and saved; still gave peace

Yes! Still loved, upon the cross still loved

And taught what forgiveness was

He forgave man and forbade

the domination of Sin upon the face of the earth

Upon the cross

the last word dropped

the last word that made

our new word come.

Comments

God and The Snail: Poetry For Some One Lost Soul

Sometimes it feels Like all is done, That this life of ours Is caught in deadly thorns: From where we cry for help in a land Where to have ears is a great taboo! But in all these... we remember...

WHO DOES THIS BELONG TO? By MIDÉ BENEDICT

This is for those Who see life as an unfair land, Where growth is fairly found only On luck's fragile and ferocious tree: It is for those whose eyes only See reality as a coin Always tossed to uncertainty: For those who see misery As an inescapable ditch, Never to be seen when its mouth agars, Never to be escaped when its venom runs, But to be delivered like a slave for a ritual, Thrown like a cotyledon into dry soil, To germinate failure like a blocked well, Hoping to salvage a droughty throat. For those whose first name is lucky, Whose last name is uncertainty And middle name misery, Know that which you know not that The poison in your tongue is The wine your life drinks; It drinks on and on till stupor calls for death And stupidity dresses its grave Like a young man before a mirror, Staring unthinkingly at his face, Till he sees greyness in his eyes. This is for those who see eye to eye With the words on this slate. Image by Midé Benedict

TIED TO FREEDOM by Mide Benedict

Don’t hold me down L ike I’m in some cave Just like a bird flies Where nothing breathes light Through a hidden dark sky L ike an existence lost in inexistence, Locked up in a bottle T hat only lives every day in an every minute coffin Tightened with an unbreakable cover. Free me I said, but you brought me this! What freedom is more painful than Eye balls without sights; faith without work like To walk on a spot; Mountains tied to your legs While eyes go dark As you walk unmoving: In a place surrounded by light; What a freedom! Image from : http://theadventurehandbook.com

Temple of Words

Search This Blog