The Summons

The Summons
A poem by Joseph J. Pote
July 2016

It’s a normal evening at home;
Bright lights, air conditioning,
Television blaring, family busy
With chores and bedtime preparation.

I step outside for a moment.
Closing the front door, I breathe
The peace and calm of a mild summer
Evening in south Arkansas.

Looking around the moonlit lawn,
I feel the first tug.
The moonlight beckons;
The shadow world calls.

From ‘neath the front porch
Shelter, I venture forth.
Through the shade of slender pines,
Breathing their aromatic scent.

Onward to the open moonlight
Gazing full on her shining face,
Drinking in the mystery
Of a shrouded world filled with light.

Yet the summons bids me onward
Toward the pasture gate.
Hesitantly, I lift the latch,
Wondering how long I’ll tarry.

Stepping through the gate,
I gaze in wondrous awe,
Not on our familiar pasture,
But an enchanted magic land.

Though scent of damp earth
And dewy grass combines
With distant cicada song
To anchor heart to ordinary world,

All else tis transformed
To moonlit fairyland
Glistening and shimmering
‘Neath light of lustrous moon.

Where our stagnant pond should lay,
A mirrored lake reflects moonlight;
O’er which a giant sentinel watches
Where our sweet-gum should stand.

Boots swish through damp grass
As my quest leads ever onward
Down hill and up levy to feet of
Giant sentinel who calls.

Yes, calls…though silently.
Not a word he speaks.
No wisdom imparted here,
Just beauty and outstretched arm

Pointing onward into the depths
Of lunar wonderland,
Where shrouded gnomes silently watch
My passage ‘cross wandering stream.

Emerging on the distant bank,
Four mythical creatures of legend
Stride solemnly toward me
On hooves of silent sureness;

Regal their bearing, yet warm,
The creatures draw near to
Counsel with me there, ‘neath
Wondrous moon in enchanted land.

We speak of many things both
Great and small; not in clumsy
Tongues of men, but in fluid equestrian
Language of touch, motion and breath.

I was honored by their counsel
And they by my visit to their world.
We talked ‘til time to take my leave,
Then stood a moment, silent.

What magic moonlight’s wrought to
Transform mundane pasture into wonderland
And ordinary horses into mythical creatures
Of legendary wisdom and majesty!

Back in my everyday world again,
A part of me remains behind…
And part of that magic moonlit night
Remains in me.

Guilty Stain

The Guilty Stain of the God-slayers
A poem by Joseph J. Pote
[republished from April, 2014, with minor revisions]

It began in the Garden of Eden,
With fruit from the forbidden tree.
Adam chose to disobey God,
Believing sin would set him free.

No longer desiring to hear God’s voice,
Nor willing to be God’s slave,
Adam conspired to usurp God’s throne,
To claim what his heart did crave.

Oh, the horrible guilt; the burden; the pain!
Paradise lost, and nothing to gain!

Rejecting the morals of his creator,
Seeking only to make himself greater,
By denying the Truth of God’s word,
Adam became a traitor.

Adam displaced God’s authority,
Though God’s Spirit dwelt in his heart.
He slew the best of man’s spirit,
Forcing God’s Spirit to depart.

Oh, the horrible guilt; the sin; the shame!
Emmanuel’s dead, and Adam’s to blame!

And so the killing continued.
Cain murdered his brother, Abel.
Fleeing his guilty conscience,
Cain treated God’s law as a fable.

Cain’s hands were covered with blood;
Abel’s blood cried out for vengeance.
Yet God showed Cain His mercy;
Though marked, Cain was not sentenced.

Oh, the horrible guilt; the sin; the shame!
Abel is dead, and Cain is to blame!

In Noah’s day, man’s wickedness spread.
Their hands were covered with blood.
Seeing how corrupt the world had become,
God slowed the infection by sending a flood.

One lie leads always to another;
One murder demands another’s death.
The stain of sin just keeps on spreading.
A contagious disease, it infects with a breath.

Oh, the horrible spread of that bloody stain!
We all are dead, and ourselves to blame!

The Israelites sacrificed blood
To pay for the guilt of their sin.
Seeing the stain on their bloody hands,
They confessed the lost state of men.

The sheep’s blood did not remove guilt,
But acted as promissory note.
A lamb’s blood cannot pay for sin,
Nor can the blood of a goat.

Oh, the horrible guilt; the sorrow; the pain!
Who can remove this awful stain?

God gave his word through the prophets,
But all of the prophets were slain.
Killing God’s prophet was easier, far,
Than facing the guilt and the pain.

God belongs on the throne of man’s heart,
But all have gone their own way.
We’ve all conspired to usurp God’s throne,
And now there is Hell to pay!

Oh, the horrible guilt; the sorrow; the pain!
All hope is lost; God’s spokesmen are slain!

Jesus was born in Bethlehem.
Oh, hear the angels sing!
Unto us a child is born;
A Savior, Christ, the King.

Jesus is the Word of God;
God, born in human flesh.
He gave sight to human hearts,
God’s truth conquers death.

Oh, the wonderful joy; the hope; the life!
God’s Son has come, to end all strife!

Jesus died a criminal’s death,
Nailed to Calvary’s tree.
The immortal slain by a murderer’s hand;
Now, who can set us free?

Men chose darkness rather than light,
Because of their wicked ways.
They hated God’s truth; it showed their sin.
Darkness conceals the stain.

Oh, the horrible guilt, despair, and shame!
God’s Son is dead, and we’re to blame!

Jesus died to pay for my guilt.
‘Twas my sin He bore on that tree.
He gave his life to pay off my debt.
He died so I could be free.

The nails which tore so cruel through his flesh
Were driven because of my pride.
My rebellion was the cause of his death.
My sin thrust the spear through his side.

Oh, the horrible guilt; the sin; the shame!
Christ Jesus has died, and I am to blame!

Jesus, save me from this horrible guilt!
Forgive the deeds I have done!
I’ve removed you from the throne of my heart;
I’ve murdered God’s only Son!

When I confess this most loathsome of sins,
I am cleansed from the guilt and the pain!
The very blood which should seal my fate
Removes all my guilty stain!

Oh, the wonderful joy in confessing the blame!
I’m free from my guilt, since I called on His name!

Adam tried to conceal his sin;
He said that Eve was to blame.
We must confess the sins of our heart,
If we want to be cleansed of the stain.

There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.

Oh, what a glorious irony!
Emmanuel’s death brought the guilty stain;
His blood brings the victory!

[Linked to Messy Marriage, Wild Flowers, Wellspring, Redeemed Life, Tell His Story ]

 

The Guilty Stain

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The Guilty Stain of the God-slayers A poem by Joseph J. Pote It began in the Garden of Eden, With fruit from the forbidden tree. Adam chose to disobey God, Believing sin would set him free. No longer desiring to … Continue reading

Seeing Woman

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This gallery contains 1 photo.

Seeing Woman (A poem by Joseph J Pote) Little boy cuddled in Mom’s lap, Both sitting on the floor Learning about batteries As I walk through the door. Chores aren’t quite finished. TV is being ignored. Lesser things will have … Continue reading

The Herald

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This gallery contains 1 photo.

A Poem of Encouragement, by Joseph Pote Battle scarred and bone weary, The vet’ran warrior stands alone, Upon a barren hillock, Waiting for the dawn. Tattered cloak pulled close about him, Face set in grim determination, A single tear coursed … Continue reading