When will life lead me to myself A piece of marble to be chiseled To uncover gifts and grace When will life lead me to you A tide that presses the driftwood to shore To carry and conjoin When will life lead me to God A bud bursting to meet sun A bird, mid-flight, looking… Read More Looking for Air
To begin is to hear the crunch of sneakers against morning dew pavement to spread good like misty perfume and carry joy as an anchor and paddle a moment is the sum of action and intention where our hearts rest, is where we will wake up place a few alarm clocks within the boxes on… Read More Beginning: A Poem for 2021
Three years ago, my book of poetry “Pouring Echoes” was released. Here is a poem from my book: be broken. don’t be a working vending machine where people give to you, so you give to them. be a broken vending machine. the kind that spit out change from the bottom for no reason. be that.… Read More Three Years Ago: “Pouring Echoes” Released
I looked under the rocks but found nothing there I looked beneath the sea and through the ocean air I searched the tree tops and across the jungle floors I searched the wheat covered fields and behind wooden doors I went into new towns and across state lines I walked for miles and miles and… Read More Found
Giving it up to God and waiting with faith Feels like drifting in the ocean with unknown creatures touching your feet It’s scary, uncertain, and downright difficult to not freak out If you have been told it is an easy process, that’s not the journey of faith Easy would be a life of indifference.
The sweat is pouring down your back. You feel like the fight is never going to end. One minute you think you have it pinned but a second later you are trying to break free. You break out of the choke hold but a minute later you are caught in it again. You fling it… Read More Tagging Out of the Fight
Why do I ache deep And love weakly? Why do I carry the rain Like drooping petals Where are my hands; lassoed to my chest. God is right here. And there And here. Yet, I see only my mind. a child on the teeter toter of Guilt and Hope Trusting in Him, sandpaper, my soul… Read More Ache
I was born a Sunday man with a Church bell in my soul and a steeple coming from my chest a journey to God’s house in each step my voice drowned by angel’s choir I remember the way I used to be before taking part in His Supper before allowing myself to rest easy in… Read More Sunday
I used to pray for a path that made sense to me I used to pray for a road that only I could see I used to pray for a future where I would be free Now I pray for the way that leads me close to Thee. -nJb Follow my poetry account on… Read More Prayers Change When We Grow
Wandering in Wonder Today 