Biblical poetry
Poems
Short scripture-shaped verse — a poem for the day, written to help you see God's word in ordinary moments.
- Poems
- 478
Write with the Lord
I wanted to write, but the timing felt wrong. So I stared at the page for much too long. “I’ll wait till I’m ready,” I told myself twice, While my coffee grew cold and thoughts turned to ice. I waited for signs and a whisper or clue, For thunder or lightning or skies turning blue.
Doors
A hallway in life has doors left and right. Some are like the sun, others dark as night. You peek and ponder, pause and pray. How can I tell which is the right way? Some look golden but creak open like a trap. They might appear thrilling until they close with a snap. Others are
Make My Day
I said I would do it. I meant it. Really. I did get started, but then I got sleepy. My will started strong—until something went wrong. Then it vanished like bubbles that never last long. I planned to eat healthy and go for a run, But cookies and couches were much more fun. I promised
Carried by God’s Word
I sat at my desk with a grin on my face, Determined to write at a champion’s pace. “I’ll finish my book,” I said with a cheer— Then I got lazy and mostly wasted the year. I tried to stay focused, wanting to give my all, But distractions kept making their tempting call. My willpower
The Right Addiction
I once had a craving I couldn’t explain— A pull in my soul like a runaway train. It wasn’t for chocolate or money or fame, But something deeper that I couldn’t quite name. I looked in the mirror and said, “What’s my need? What’s driving my choices? What thoughts do I feed?” I said I
Tale Too True to Deny
When my story feels real, as if it must have been done, Yet it sparkles with wonder and shines like the sun, It will tickle the brain and dazzles the brow, Making people whisper, “But wait … tell me how.” Then I’ve written a tale with a marvelous spark, That lights up the room and
Sensitive Writing
Some people write with their eyes in a haze, Unaware of the hearts they’re passing in a daze. They chatter and shuffle, not hearing a sigh— They don’t pause to notice a tear in the eye. They write, but they miss what is the best intent. They live in a casket of self-made cement. But
Learning to Care
Some walk through the store with their eyes on floor. They bump into folks as they stroll toward the door. They don’t even notice the people in their way. Their world is quite small, and they like it that way. But loving and living with kindness and care Takes more than just knowing somebody’s there
Father Time
I wanted to write and be good and fast, To finish a story that forever would last. I researched and typed with ambition and flair, But something was missing. I needed more prayer. I planned every hour, each minute, each block. I counted the day’s words and watched the clock. But just when I thought
Employed to Write
I once met a writer with ink on her hands, Who dreamed of big books and faraway lands. She scribbled and typed through the dark and the light, But something was missing. Her joy wasn’t right. She wrote for the likes and the follows and fame. She wanted the world to remember her name. But
Working for the Lord
Some folks work for the cash and the pay. They wait for the weekend and dream of the day. Working for the boss or the bills they must meet, They march through the hours with tired, dragging feet. But there is a job that’s much better, by far— No desk and no cubicle, no name
Seeking Treasure
I once heard a tale that was told to me twice, Of a treasure that sparkled and shimmered so nice. But no map was given, no path marked in red— Just a whisper that said, “Go where you’re led.” The journey, they said, is the start of the prize. So I laced up my shoes,