The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
Mobile, AL, US
If you have comments or suggestions for Phillip Knox, you can contact this author at:
email@example.com (Phillip Knox)
Find a book store near you, no matter where you are located in the U.S.A.!
...the best independent ISP in the Twin Cities
My Dearly Beloved Child
My Dearly Beloved Child,
Since the day I chose you, I have not cease to call
you mine. Last night as you lay in bed I saw the tears
streaming down your face, and you wondered if I had
abandoned you. In the weariness of your trials you faltered
and in the dark gloom you doubted me, yet I remained near
to you. There in your most intense agony you said I had
forgotten about you, but it was in your most trying time I
was closest to you. As the moonlight fell through your room
window, I was there by your bedside, bending over you. How
I yearned to stroke softly your sad brow with confort, but
you took no notice of me because your eyes were blind with
tears. I understand the hurt you feel, the grief that
you cannot breath upon one chord of human emotion, the deep
cries never man has known, I know it all. Don't you
remember the cords that burned open my back with stripes?
It was then I was thinking of you; and when the crown of
thorns pierced my temples causing the blood to flow down
my face, my mind was on you. Do you recall when I
stretched out my hands as large spikes were hammered
through my flesh, not once were you absent from my
thoughts. There raised and hung between heaven and earth
on a tree, no clothing, humiliated, I saw you. In my last
hour when I hung suffocating, pulling myself up to speak
my final words, and the weight widening the holes in my
hand flesh, I whispered a prayer for you. At last my
heart burst within while the cold spear was plunged in my
side, the blood mingled with water gushed out on those
lifeless rocks of Calvary; in that selfsame day all of my
sentiments were spilled out for you my child, and all of
this was from Love to thee.
Truely Your Friend Jesus
The Silent Years
It was at the tender age of sixteen I had plans
I wanted to become a minister and be God's man.
In the Senventh-day- Adventist Church I daily worked
participating in many activities with close support.
I was as a rose blossoming under heaven's sunlight
in favor with God and men I labored for the right
soul after soul I brought in to my Lordly Savior,
and without shame I freely spoke of the sacred.
Although at times I immersed myself in some forbidden act
following a youth's curiosity in the perfection I lacked,
yet never did I renounce my desire that burned within
as I was more determined to achieve my goal to the end.
From high school I graduated with my mind on college,
but due to my daughter I entered the Navy for knowledge
with bright prospects I pursued an illusion
little thinking that all would come to confusion.
I was planning for marriage to a girl I dearly loved
beautiful as the lily, fair white as the dove
she seemed to be my soul-mate from heaven
for I had a crush on her since I was seven.
But after nine months of active duty I was finally discharge
and later developed a sickness that plagued deeply my heart
a stench, my curse for some sin of the far past,
and then the silent years began, the days were black.
The women whom I wanted for my beloved bride
did not want me in return for my misfortunate and lied
I could dee her intentions were not for precious love,
but to live well without working for a home thereof.
In addition to this pain, I came to live a life of shame
the object of ridicule, the stranger most blamed.
I began to be alienated from the company of many
because of the loud smell I was now an enemy.
The sneers ran course, the mean looks on each face
and every fiber in my being shook more than twice.
How they spoke words of the most bitter kind,
and looked down on me with disgust and frowns
misinterpreting my every action that was good
laughing at a situation that was hardly understood.
Even those closest to me reviled me one time or another,
and as the world they only praised me if I was honored
jealousy beclouded the reason of others,
and they often exulted at every failure.
I again decided I wanted to attend Oakwood College,
and my major in Theology I wanted to make final,
but being shunned by the majority of students
I became discouraged at the all too lucid.
So I dropped out of school in the depths of uncertainty
hoping death would fly upon me quite early,
but I lived to meet the taunts from demon borne souls,
and the critical are the very ones who made my nights cold.
Now steeped in solitude, I cannot know what is true
I am lost in a cycle, singing a soft lonely tune
the people's hate I continue to bear on my shoulders,
and God's anger towards me is in the face of others.
I am now thirty years of age,
sometimes in a rage,
and trapped in my own private dark mental cage;
all these years I've cried,
so many tears until almost blind,
and still there remains from God no comforting sign.
Through it all however, there burns one simple question
why am I suffering all this free of mercy?
but still there comes no answer from His Majesty
and I suffer on waiting my final tragedy.
May it come with swift speed tothe frail and tortured
for how can God look upon this hurt unbothered?
Sometimes I think all I was taught to believe was a lie
for the greatest mystery is the ones who pain me
always in the end rise.
In the Sad Slow Hours
Here I sit in these sad slow hours
behind shades of night towers
staring at eyes with scorn that blaze,
and there upon me stains.
As a captive of uncertain chances
in the land of the lonely intrepid
subtle times comes with lies,
and I am sold of my true essence;
and the rain won't seem to go
and the tears won't cease to flow,
all the hurt my soul has borne
tares, flares this heart among thorns.
Sweet windstorms roar
Oh how I am torn,
and no one knows what's deep within
the fire sinking needles that scorch
the depths of my sin.
In the darkness with a shaft of sunlight
and tantalizing thoughts of mind
hopes fading as shadows fall gently
on dreams abandoned quickly.
But I was more hated than the rest
and controversal no less
I walked in the midst of enemies
like the martyrs of ancient history.
There I have nothing for tomorrow
but more stymied by sorrow
in visions of cool silver streams
I think of a place for me.
My heart never dies for sweet joy
in the place I most enjoy
for aspirations no less soars eternity
and in such flights forever free.
Many conflicting thoughts clouds my mind
as I sit here in anticipation of the
I ponder upon the past with no expectation
of the future,
for it is bleak, and my life has made
a terrible turn.
What was a dream became hope,
then in the prime of it all
in one hour was crushed before my eyes.
Now I am invaded by mixed confusion,
errors of truth, and misled by lies.
Visions of love still has its seal on my heart;
how can I give up without an answer to my pain?
Or how can I live with the mistake that was made
as a result of these dark clouds and rain?
Where the wind blows I don't know,
but where a curse resides
there it is waiting for me,
until it bites me with fangs inflicting
on me mental hurt
so that it would be impossible from
I am sin in all of its hideouness
not to mention the one who suffers
from all of these dregs and woes.
I have any wounds that bleed hurt,
my heart is constantly attacked by a nauseating pain
that nobody feel or even know.
I am the inside sufferer, I have many enemies
of every kind, my eyes are filled with rejection
nd disappointment of every kind;
but still I look for hope or maybe I will never
receive from God a sign.
I am beyond my time, in the distance there is
nothing to gain,
but only anguish and death
with every hand upon my torn soul.
I feel the gloom pressing on me
the mysteries of the unknown besides me,
as I look ahead of me my body shakes
and I grow cold.
I am the inside sufferer Behold! My agony that cannot
be described, picture it in all of its horror
for it soon will be no more.
The day slowly sets, the night will come soon
the bell will ring
I will then be released on that very hour.