Showing posts with label Voice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Voice. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Phoenix
A foretoken given by day of Light
Descending through dark of night
Gray of ash upon the crest seen
Raked over coals down between.
In the shadows, reasoning of choice
Still and silent, as one with no voice
Fire was blazing with indignation
Roaring with the cry of damnation.
Understanding has gone amiss
Devoured in this burning abyss
Judgement echoes off the mount
For all to see, I stand in account.
Friendship once stood by my side
Fled with the wind, to run and hide
Partaking not, in decisions made
Yet it was not I, who felt betrayed.
Burned out by the fan of flames
All that is left, very little remains
Like a Phoenix, state of ruin I’m in
From ashes, resurrection will begin.
Patricia A. Moore
August 24, 2010
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Voice Of An Angel
Voices of Angels..
Are meant to sing...
When hearing their melody..
Heavenly sounds ring...
Church bell in
The steeple high
Beauty in the tones
Swaying from the sky
Music that’s heard
With the heart
These glorious tunes
God did impart
Like my mom ..
Guitar in hand..
The picture before me..
An angel band..
Patty Ann
11-2-09
Are meant to sing...
When hearing their melody..
Heavenly sounds ring...
Church bell in
The steeple high
Beauty in the tones
Swaying from the sky
Music that’s heard
With the heart
These glorious tunes
God did impart
Like my mom ..
Guitar in hand..
The picture before me..
An angel band..
Patty Ann
11-2-09
Monday, June 8, 2009
Moonvine
There’s a mystery behind
This unusual flower
That comes forth
During the moonlight hour
Blooming to the lesser light
This beautiful white blossom
That came to me at night
The voice of my Beloved knocks
A sweet smelling scent from Thee
Saying, open my love
Come sup with Me
Then by the break of dawn
He closes the Door
The beauty is gone
2008 Patricia A Moore
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This unusual flower
That comes forth
During the moonlight hour
Blooming to the lesser light
This beautiful white blossom
That came to me at night
The voice of my Beloved knocks
A sweet smelling scent from Thee
Saying, open my love
Come sup with Me
Then by the break of dawn
He closes the Door
The beauty is gone
2008 Patricia A Moore
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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