Wednesday, December 10, 2014

TO THE EDITORS

To every “ed” who’s stretched in mind
Who’s had to fly outside the box,
Who’s bit a tongue in speaking kind
Of words unorthodox

‘Tis torture in that stretch;
Machines ne'er did so much.
Those dread devices with the cranks
Can only stretch by touch

‘Tis mind o'er matter, thoughts to scatter
On raging desert wind.
O, ye, Eds, come chase our storms
Until our stories end!

We'd write to spite and write to please
And write to make ye think,
And giggle, we, as we’d sit ye
Nigh insantity's brink.

‘Tis bitter sweet that stretch ye'd meet
On verbose prose we’d write,
And on we’d type into the night
to lend ye eds a fright.

But dearest Eds, to all of you,
We’d fret not of your stretch;
The tenebrous mind can take the pain
That eds so often catch.

                --Monty Wheeler

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

MINE HUMBLE PEN

I’d, humble, walk the narrow path
With Jesus, Savior, Lord,
And by His gift, I’ll praise Him with
The pen as my bronze sword.

I cannot sing or carry tunes;
No music can I play,
But God has blessed me with a gift,
A talent, so “they” say.

(And onward, Christian Soldier, write
As going off to war,
For God’s salvation set thee free
To walk His Golden Shore!)

I’d wield a humble poet’s pen,
Not out of duty’s call,
But out of Love and Faith in God;
He’s great, and I am small.

But I believe in altar’s prayer,
And promises He makes;
Perchance He’s chosen me to share
In spite of my mistakes.

Thus, if my pen and talent’s in
Accordance with His will,
I’ve want to share my God with all
In honing gift and skill.

            --Monty Wheeler



Wednesday, November 26, 2014

REAL COLD DAY

She walked a winter's day and--well?
‘Twas a real cold day in Hell,
For all around were shattered dreams
Like shards of ice from frozen streams
Where once flowed life’s eternal spring—
Forever dies, a fragile thing.

"Jesus loves me,” and she’d know"
That He walks where ere she'd go
And lo!  upon horizon's brow,
That wrinkled line twixt then and now,
Hope from God that now dim light
Will one day shine so full and bright,
But she knows, not, how it’ll be
One tiny candle lights a sea;
All she needs is faith to stand

On bedrock of The Father's land.

                       --Monty Wheeler

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

I AM, HE CRIED BEFORE HE DIED

I am a child of God and son of man;
I wonder at God’s will and greater plan;
I hear “Amazing Grace” in angels’ choir;
I see the depths of Hell and Satan’s fire;
I want salvation; that’s my sweet desire;
I am a child of God and son of man.

I pretend that Jesus comes each day;
I feel He’s here with me in every way:
I touch the Lamb’s red blood that spilled for me;
I worry I’m got good enough, you see;
I cry at how He died for my dark sin;
I am a child of God and son of man.

I understand that God forgives.  Can I?
I say my daily prayers to God on High;
I dream of afterlife’s eternal span;
I try to live life pleasing to His eye;
I hope; therefore, I am, I loudly cry;
I am a child of God and son of man.

                         --Monty Wheeler


Monday, November 17, 2014

THE DARK VALLEY

Yea, I walk through The Valley of the Shadow
With burning foot upon the hostile land,
A traveler protected by God’s hand,
I keep my eye on God’s eternal meadow.

Those times I feel so lost and God-forsaken
Surrounded by the blazing fires of Hell
That sweet temptation’s bellows tend so well,
My faith feels weak, so easily shaken.

Yea, I walk through The Valley of Despair,
Where stalks the devil’s beast that would consume
What Jesus grants in rising from that tomb;
I know my God walks always with me there.

I keep my eye upon my God’s green meadow,
Firm in my conviction Jesus saves.
He’ll release the devil’s sin-bound slaves
And walk with me through valleys of The Shadow.

God’s promise that He’ll walk that path with me,
Then carry me when I would balk in fear,
Consoles when I would salt the land with tear;
He is The Way, The Truth, The Light I see.

Yea, I walk through The Valley of the Shadow,
I walk toward God’s promise of green meadow.

                                  --Monty Wheeler

Thursday, November 13, 2014

RELEASE

I walked away with want to pray,
And fear raced through my heart;
And verily,
I say to thee,
The fear raced through my heart.

No way could tears tear me apart
where others might well see;
Give me a place—
A private space—
For others should not see.

But God will deal with me and sin;
I’ll pray in dark disgrace.
The good folk say.
There comes the day,
I’ll pray in dark disgrace.

If peace would come, let God begin
To let me cry that way.
Ask Him impart
His grace to start
A let me cry that way

            --Monty Wheeler

*The Roundabout is a four stanza poem, with each stanza consisting of 5 lines. The poem is written in iambic and the lines have 4 feet, 3 feet, 2 feet, 2 feet and 3 feet respectively. The rhyme scheme is aBccB/bCddC/cDaaD/dAbbA. Roundabouts can be on any subject*

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

HE HEARS

*simple yes?  but simple no.  as short form poetry will go*

I pray
With faith He hears
This day.

Believe
The Father’s grace
Shan’t leave

I ask
What He would have—
My task.

         --Monty Wheeler

The Musette, created by Emily Romano is a poem that consists of three verses of three lines each. The first lines have two syllables; the second lines have four syllables, and the third lines have two syllables. The rhyme scheme is a/b/a for the first verse; c/d/c for the second verse, and e/f/e for the third verse. The title should reflect the poem’s content.