For Every Broken Heart That Ever Spent A Lonely Night Alone

[Theophilos]

BEFORE DAWN, IF WE DARE

Quietly, in slumbering breath you lay,
warm in my arms, molded to me, as if of clay.
Gently, you sleep at ease and free,
And share these loving moments with me.

Dare I kiss your lips
Honey and dew?
Would the spell be broken
If I awakened you?

Could you ever be as beautiful
As you now are?
Will I ever find a way
To eclipse the light of a shining star?

Sleep, my love,
Dream your dreams in peace,
And never wonder if the day will come,
When your existence I'll release.

Even now,
As my mind captures the beauty of your love
So simple and true,
I find myself slowly descending
Into the endless depths of you.

So fear not, my love,
My leaving you at dawn,
This crime I'm sure
The gods would never condone.

Rather, trust in the love we share,
And think of tomorrow
Or the day after
If we dare.

p.rehbein

Beautifully painted. And it rhymes without feeling forced. I have a hard time with rhyme without making it sound contrived. A great poem.

 

[oldethennew]

Well, friends, that's it!

Actually, there are more poems and such I have written. But they have been lost, misplaced, given away, or some such over the past 50 years..........and there are the Bible Studies I have written, but these are the Poems and Short Stories I have managed to hold on to all these years. Finally gathered into one place! Whew! Thank the Lord for the strength to get this done. I hope some here find some comfort/pleasure, or inspiration from one or more of my offerings.

God bless you and yours........

p.rehbein

==========================================
Wonderful Words, universal-cathartic-sprinkled with humour and irony -
Congratulations dear Friend, you are certainly a Great Poet!

There are to many to mention that we greatly enjoyed,
over-all, a great chronology of life, and of course we both
identified with so many pieces and parts of your art...

Thank You...

 

[Theophilos]

THAT DAY

No weeping, no weeping,
No weeping that day.
When my life is 'ore
And I wake nevermore,
Gather ye 'round,
And no weeping that day.

Sing praises, sing praises,
Sing praises that day.
My life's race is run,
I'm at home with the Son,
Gather ye 'round,
And sing praises that day.

Cry Holy, cry Holy,
Cry Holy that day.
I'll be waiting for you,
And Jesus is too,
Gather ye 'round
And cry Holy, cry Holy,
Cry Holy that day.

p.rehbein

I love this poem. Not many people can think this way.

 

[Theophilos]

IN THE SHADE OF FREEDOMS GROWTH

Then there was the woman who lost two sons to that war in a far away jungled land.

One to a bullet fired from a never seen enemy snipers gun which pierced his heart. He fell and died face down in bloodied sand. he never quite knew why he was there, and was puzzled even more by the actions of his brother, the one who didn't care.

Just at the moment he drew his last breath, with comrades returning fire at an invisible fear, he looked towards the setting sun, Westward, to the land he called home. He couldn't speak, and slowly, exhaling, his eyes closed upon one silent, lonely tear.

They told her he was a Hero, a proud son of Liberty! She got a folded flag, and a Telegram from some General she never knew, who said her son had died so that all men could be free. She thought about their words, the explanations were thin at the very least, but, finally, she understood and agreed. What he had done was good, and his death was not in vain. And, in his name, she went out back, and in the yard, planted a tree.

The other to a billy club wielded by an Officer of the Peace. A man blinded by fear, who was never able to understand how Americans could demonstrate, desecrate, and refuse to obey the orders of the Government, and have such disrespect for the Police. The club crushed the fragile bones just above and in front of his left ear. And, as he fell to the Officers feet, his eyes turned Southward to a far away land he called home. He thought of the brother who would kill innocent people in a far away jungled land, and he wondered why God had ever bothered to create such a man?

Just at the moment he drew his last breath, with comrades shouting "Peace" and "Stop the War", exhaling, he lowered his head into the pool of blood staining the steps of the Courthouse door. A loving comrade reached down and from his cheek, wiped away one silent lonely tear..

They told her he wasn't responsible for his actions, but that pot had destroyed his sense of right and wrong. They gave her his few possessions, bundled up in a pillow case, tie-dyed and closed with a long since discarded sandal's thong. She thought about their words, the explanations were thin at the very least, but, finally, she understood and disagreed. What he had done was good. He died so that all men could be free, and his death was not in vain. And, in his name, she went out back, and in the yard, planted a tree.

Then there was the little boy next door who loved the little girl with pigtails and a turned up nose. They met every summer evening in the shade of the twin trees that grew in the back yard of the rundown house where that old crazy lady lived. Their love was stronger than their fear of her finding them together there, so they embraced and dreamed of tomorrow.

And they never saw the sad old eyes behind the darkened window pane. And, just as she drew her last breath, she looked again toward the twin trees, wiped away one silent lonely tear. Slowly exhaling, she smiled and knew that, after all, her sons had not died in vain.

p.rehbein

This story is beautiful and touched me very deeply. Is it inspired by real events?

 

[Theophilos]

CHAUVINISTIC CREATION
(or, better yet, Boy, am I in trouble)

God created man.
Then God created woman.
She was created
From mans rib.

When you add
"Wo" to "man"
You got 'em!

Seriously, I've often wondered
If there is a language somewhere
That translates "wo" to "of"
Then, there would be ofman
Which seems only right
After all, it was our rib.

Wouldn't you just love to see
the E.R.A. people
Fighting for "ofman" rights?

Somehow,
I think the balloon
Would quickly deflate.

p.rehbein

The word woman will come on agenda down the line anyway. It may become just simply ”wo.” Our need for autonomy and self-definition has no limits.

 

[p_rehbein]

This story is beautiful and touched me very deeply. Is it inspired by real events?

Yes, but not my personal event.....

 

[p_rehbein]

The word woman will come on agenda down the line anyway. It may become just simply ”wo.” Our need for autonomy and self-definition has no limits.

This was a serious exercise of "Tongue Firmly in Cheek"

 

[Rose1956]

This is quite an impressive collection of deep thoughts. I used to write poetry, but haven't in years. Reading yours has inspired me to try to write again.

 

[p_rehbein]

This is quite an impressive collection of deep thoughts. I used to write poetry, but haven't in years. Reading yours has inspired me to try to write again.

You should...….and I love your avatar....

Words written from the heart are never wrong. They do not have to rhyme either. They are best when they are from the heart and not some blueprint of How to Write Poetry.

God bless

 

[p_rehbein]

In search of Him who has gone East:

In search of Him who has gone East,
I set forth to the West.
This path I chose
Has separated me from the rest.
They laugh and say
The fool is lost,
Ah, but I’m found;
For He has already paid the cost.
There is no path
Along life’s highway
That He cannot find us,
Take our hand, and show us The Way.

Luke 15:1) Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him. 2) And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. 3) And he spake this parable unto them, saying, 4) What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? 5) And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. 6) And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost. 7) I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.