Biblical poetry
Poems
Short scripture-shaped verse — a poem for the day, written to help you see God's word in ordinary moments.
- Poems
- 539
Diddle Diddle Forecast
The forecast called for skies to fiddle, With sunshine bright and not a dribble. A cheerful high came dancing through, With happy tunes the catfish knew.
Just Acting My Age
When I was two, life seemed a breeze, I did just what I liked with ease. If I threw fits or made a scene, Dad simply said, “He’s only green.”
Speaking Their Language
The crowds today see tales on every screen, With dazzling scenes like what they’ve always seen. If we ignore the AI tools that shape their view, Our message might seem too old to be new.
Faith Under Fire
When trouble comes knocking, the Church doesn’t hide. It straightens its shoulders and stands up with pride. For faith that is tested grows sturdy and true. Like gold in the furnace, it’s melted anew.
The Three Twos
There are three little “twos” that will tickle your brain— They sound the same, but they aren’t spelled the same. They pop up in sentences old and new: The tricky trio is to, too, and two.
Yea and Amen
All the promises God ever made, every vow, From long, long ago until right here and now, In Christ are settled, sealed up, and shining— With truth everlasting and perfect designing.
The Wealth of Contentment
Some chase for gold from shore to shore, Yet always hunger still for even more. Their barns grow full, their houses wide, But emptiness is still living inside.
The Man of Lawlessness
A shadow rises dark and grim, With pride and blasphemy in him. He lifts himself with boastful breath Along the road that leads to death.
The Writer’s Race
The saints of old have run this road, Through stormy nights and heavy loads. With faithful hearts they chose to write, Reflecting God’s eternal love and light.
AI in Different Hands
A hammer in the builder’s hand Can raise a home upon the land. The same tool swung in reckless rage Could scar a life or split a page.
Rhyming Spreadsheets
I used to think in columns, rows, and lists so neat, With spreadsheets marching in predictable repeat. My world was black-and-white. Numbers ruled my land, And poetry was something I would never understand.
Fence Post Arguments
When feeling alone, needing someone to talk to, I’m happy to converse with a person who’s new. If nobody is there, I’ll still have my say. I’ve talked to myself through many a day.