Thought I'd just throw another poem out there...

“What time is it? What time is it!?”
He growled with the hunger of knowing
He growled and hunkered in the snowing
In a what-time-is-it? wasteland
Where time is traced by no hand.

“What time is it? What bloody TIME is it!?”
He glowered with anger loose, unbridled
Reading a clock unmarked, untitled
Striking the case of Father Clock
Grandfather’s Ticless son, Toc.

“What time is it? Tell me the TIME!”
He shook the Black Forest handcrafted case,
He wound the key and scratched the face,
But Father Clock, grieving, sick
Tockless sticks, talking only “Tic…Tic.”

“What time is it? Show me the TIME!”
He bellowed raving, lost of reason
Lost in this world, trapped in one season.
“Why do you deny me the hour?
The very power to enter the tower?”

“What is the time!? I’ll break you too!”
The threat spoken, loosened a spring
That spraing and sproing an empty ring
“Tic…Tic” the clock rattled away
But no Toc he talked, no… not this day!

“Half of a time is all you’ll be given,”
Spoke the voice of a lady high and fair
Leaning from the tower, speaking on air,
“His brother, you’ve crushed, you brutish clout,
Thinking ‘Without Tic, time won’t run out.’”

“What TIME is it? What time is it, indeed!
You feared your time would leave, depart.
Now time won’t run out, won’t e’er restart!
You’ve stopped the clock of our little game,
But to your shame, listen to the one clock’s name…”

“Tic… Tic” Toc carried on. “What time is it?”
He demanded once more, fist areared,
“The loss of the game is all that you feared,
But thought you once of the loss of time?
No ring, no chime, to end your crime?”

“‘What time is it? What time is it?’
Forever you shall echo, this query hollow
For time’s unhitched, no Toc to follow.
Harm not this clock that grieves so long
For how long is long in an endless song?”

“What can be worse than time so stalled!?”
He raised his arm, insane and crazed,
Broke the dam of time and days
Smashed ol’ Toc before the queen,
Untimed, unseen, uncogged, unclogged…
lost somewhere in between.

“What time is it?” He will never know.
Accursed for time to serve endlessly,
Behind the clock as a sightless key,
To wind and wind the timekeeper’s spring,
But deaf to the ring, as clockworks sing.
Deaf to the answer, deaf to the chime:
“Hear now the hour, hear now the time!”
So endlessly he winds and he whines:
“What time is it!? What is the TIME?!”

An Easter Poem
(still a work in progress, but not bad)

I laid out his bed and tucked him in tight,
Securing his majesty for the rest of the night,
Here he will rest in the coldest of sleep,
Into my void of darkness so deep.

Ne’er one so regal have I claimed in my bed,
My creator he is, who lies lifeless and dead;
His was the curse that laid men in my graves,
Who sold themselves through sin as my slaves.

How profound a wonder that he should lie here
Whose home lies beyond my kingdom of fear;
His curse that first bred me in the garden of light
Has wrapped him securely in my eternal night.

With all time and all power, all life in his hand,
Why has the immortal donned dust and sand?
To what end does he come and give me his flesh?
I’ll just unravel his mortal sinewy mesh.

But what is this!? This power that’s at play?
It’s more than the spice that prevents his decay!
Oh, I’ll work at it, work at it, give it more days
Once someone visits me, he stays and he stays.

Another day has come and another night,
Something protects his corpse from my might.
But there’s time to tear his skin from the bone;
He’s mine to dismember on this bed of stone.

But no! What is this!? His flesh takes on color!
No! NO! What is this!? His eyes start to flutter!
You can’t do this, I shout! Sleep, sleep, I command!
Sit back down! You’re not allowed to rise, to stand!

You’re mine, I tell you, you must heed my demand!
I surrender no one, neither animal nor man!
God you may be, but of woman you are born
‘The wages of sin is death’ - you have sworn!

The debt is paid? The ransom accepted!?
You suffered that much? I hadn’t expected
That all of my boarders I’d have to release
The best, the worst, the greatest, the least!

You may be the beginning, but I AM THE END!
I cannot be broken, I refuse! I won’t bend!
After ME there’s no life, there’s no reawaking
I never given back what I have been taking.

He casts me aside as a powerless beggar;
He laughs as he offers me one last wager:
“If you can stop me from rising this day,
I’ll leave all the dead in their graves here to stay!”
But before I can bring down the blade of my scythe
He dissipates with an exultant gleam in his eye!

Then the earth rumbles as the stone to the cave
With angelic power is rolled from the grave,
Exposing my helplessness for the world to see;
This can’t be happening! Not to me! Not to ME!

Had I known that his cross had conquered all sin,
I’d never have let that Son of God come on in
And shatter my kingdom and my subjects release
And grant real meaning to the words “Rest in Peace.”

Now look who enters within my open wound!
More angels, more immortals! – THIS IS A TOMB!
A place for the DEAD, forever sleeping!
A place for tears, the grieving, the weeping!

Ach! Sure! Sit right down! Make yourself at home!
Invite some friends, why wait here alone?
See, here come some women, early morning walkers,
Just what I needed, more witnesses, more gawkers!

Imagine the gossip, the unbridled tongue
When they see for themselves that death is undone!
Why not sell tickets, twenty shekels a head
To see the place where the dead are not dead.

That’s right angel! You tell them they’re wrong.
The living aren’t here, so they can just run along.
No! Don’t tell the disciples Jesus’ gone on ahead,
That he’s come back to life, that he’s no longer dead!

I won’t hear the end of it from Sin and the devil,
That I’ve lost my strength, my grit, my metal.
But then again, if the world’s sin has been atoned
In my defeat and my demise, I’m far from alone.

But what comfort can I find in mutual ruin?
The world is astir, something unheard of is brewin’!
Soon those who are crying, will all begin to sing,
“Where, O death, is your victory! Where, O death, is your sting!”

My work isn’t done, though, I have people to grab,
With icy fingers their hearts I will stab,
I’ve graveyards to fill and morticians to employ,
I’ll work my art and their fleeting joy I’ll destroy.

I’ll take the young ones at the dawn of their day,
And Grandma as she watches her grandkids play,
They’ll still have to fear me and curse God the same
As if I am almighty, and I’m the end of the game.

With war and disease, earthquake and disaster,
I’ll convince them to rue such an ungodly master,
For those of the Name, I’ll bring them such shame,
As I cast on him all the blame, ALL the blame.

Then they’ll forget the cross and the boulder,
The blame he was willing all alone to shoulder,
They’ll forget the one that I could not confine,
The one I could no longer claim as mine.

But if they forget, or simply don’t care,
I won’t be the one to make them aware,
That a second kingdom is under my rule,
Where I will preside endlessly over the fool
Who feared not God, nor loved his Son,
Who believed not in the battle he’d won,
That when he walked from my earthen cell,
He walked just as boldly from the curse of hell,
A victor and champion for one and all,
Who’s opened his heavenly banquet hall,
Where the dead will rise to eat and feast,
Despite their sin - the greatest, the least.

But tell no one you heard it from me,
Why should God get all the company?

My daughter got me interested in writing poetry again. Here's one. Can you guess the word? It shouldn't be too hard:

AwkWORD
They called her ‘Awkword,’
Because she never walked alone.
She was always the third wheel,
From the conjunction zone.

“Three-lettered Awkword”
They teased her at school,
“She's scared to go by herself;
Says it’s a grammar rule!”

“She acts like a matchmaker,
But then she sticks around.
She blames it on her DNA;
It’s backwards or upside down!”

She’s big friends with Too,
She says they’re a pair;
With Also, they both get along,
It’s their meaning they share.

She avoids Or with a passion,
She stays away from But,
They’re not alike at all,
She’s like glue, while they just cut.

So who is this “Awk-word”?
Can you venture a guess?
She’s not in this poem,
She felt way too distressed,
Being blamed as she is
Of joining uninvited
Words or sentences;
Her service unrequited.

So for now she is hiding,
Sulking or confounded?
So I had to find other words
If I wanted a phrase compounded.

“Awkword” – yes, that she is;
But oh she’s necessary;
She’s like the golden ring,
With which two nouns marry.

She’s the plus of our speech,
She’s the bond of our talk,
So if she’s tagging along,
Don’t stand there to gawk.

Without her gift of joining
Words meant to be a couple
Would fail to communicate;
Then we’d all be in trouble!

So don’t call her “Awkword!”
If she's left, what would you do?
Replace her with something else?
Like the phrase “in addition to”?

NEW TOPIC! In traditional churches where the creeds still are confessed on a regular basis, we have to beware losing their purpose... and their meaning. Confessing comes naturally to everyone who believes. But where did they come from? And dare we consider it our "Pledge of Allegiance"? Read on:

1) ANCIENT BAPTISMAL QUESTIONS - historical excerpt
By about 220, baptismal candidates were affirming a... set of beliefs. Here is how the Roman presbyter Hippolytus describes the questions they were asked:

Do you believe in God the Father Almighty?
Do you believe in the Messiah (Christus) Jesus, the Son of God,
Who was born of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary,
Who was crucified in the days of Pontius Pilate, and died, and rose the third day living from the dead and ascended into the heavens and sat down at the right hand of the Father, and will come to judge the living and the dead?
Do you believe in the Holy Spirit in the Holy Church, and the resurrection of the flesh?

If you translate those "Do you believe" questions into "I believe" statements, you have something very much like the Old Roman Creed which took final form in the Apostles' Creed (5th century).

SOURCE: Neff, David. The Jewishness of the Nicene Creed
2005. Christian History & Biography
COMMENT: Consider the next one my comment:

2) GOD'S PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE
The Apostles' Creed is not a pledge of allegiance, which we speak before God. We are remembering the gospel. We are remembering God’s pledge to us. The Creeds are nothing different from the 23rd Psalm. They simply explain how our Good Shepherd has ‘restored my soul,’ ‘how he comforts me,’ ‘spreads a table before me,’ and ‘makes my cup overflow.’ The Creeds are there for our comfort, describing how God has achieved that which was impossible for us.

SOURCE: Vertein, Eric

What is more destructive than man's "carbon footprint"? You might be surprised. Read this quote from Hosea:

1) Mourning Land - Bible quote

There is no faithfulness, no love,
no acknowledgment of God in the land.
There is only cursing, lying and murder,
stealing and adultery;
they break all bounds,
and bloodshed follows bloodshed.
Because of this the land mourns,
and all who live in it waste away;
the beasts of the field and the birds of the air
and the fish of the sea are dying.

SOURCE: Hosea 4:1a-3 – NIV

COMMENT: As stewards of the earth that God has given us, we should be concerned about our pollution that is so harmful to the beautiful scenes of nature that we point to as God's artwork. We should recycle and consciously take care of the resources we use. But as we look at the suffering of nature, the dying of species, even the dead fish in your aquarium, realize that all of creation suffers, because of our sinfulness. The death and the destruction that we see in the world reminds us of the filth of our sins that has corrupted what once was perfect. We are to blame in a much more profound way than the huge garbage dumps we leave all over the place. We have left a horrible "sin footprint" on the world. Thanks be to Christ, that his footprints, distinguishable by the scar of a hole, have removed our eternal guilt, so that we will one day enjoy a new earth, where sin will not destroy or even mar its beauty!