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A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Day 15--National Poetry Month--Audacity

This is Day 15 of the National Poetry Month 30 poems in 30 days challenge. I usually don't work on Sunday, but as this is a religious poem, I feel it's okay this time. I'm not sure what Stephanie had for a poem today, but this is the one I've chosen to do. It's an ABAB poem.


What must the Father think of his bairns 
As they posture and pose and preen?
When they insist on going their way
Then asking what all of it means.

He sent His Son to light up the path
To the Fruit most delicious and fair
But so many children deny that He lives
So that they can live lives without care

The silly thing is, these recalcitrant babes
Will Still have their troubles in scores
They foolishly slap away Christ's helping hand
Instead putting stock in their wars.

They scrabble and scratch to the top of the hill
Thinking now I'm the one with the most
Never realizing there are millions of hills
Taller and better to boast

Christ stands not, at the top of the pile
Gloating of all He has done 
He merely beckons to us to come home
Back to the Father and Son.

 © 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

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