Hope this one isn't too hard to understand. Go to Romans 9:20 where it says, "Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?" Add to that a verse like Isaiah 45:9 which says, "Woe unto him that striveth with his Maker! Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth. Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou? or thy work, He hath no hands?" This is the place I am coming from in this poem. God, as a potter, in a metaphorical sense, tries his children, tests his children, puts pressure on his children, not to hurt us or destroy us, but to strengthen us and cause us to trust his gentle hand.
The potter may need to put more water to a lump if it gets too stiff. When hardened before entering the fire, it can always be broken, crushed, and pressured with water to make it usable again. It is never a perfect lump, but it may be usable in God's hand.
The fire only tries the Christian. A life without trials and fire brings a soft, weak, fickle Christian who has not learned to follow the guiding touch from an All-knowing master. Imagine putting a soft vessel, not yet put to the fire, on your mantle. It would be quite strange, and certainly would not sustain any pressure put to it by unfriendly elements. I would much rather be tried, and go through temptations knowing God is faithful, and will not allow me to go through anything that will be too much for me to take when walking in the Spirit(II Corinthians 10:13-14). May I be transformed to the image of God and not the ways of this world (Romans 12:1-2).
Please enjoy...
The Potter’s Ardor
He took to his wheel, and cast a mold.
What treasures soon would he unfold!
Not wasting but a single spec
He noticed not the waning threat.
For with the peddle flailing ‘bout
Accurate structure he would strive
To render wonder; tall and stout
Subject musings to contrive.
Every touch and every poke
Might mean the ending of the strand.
Trying with sensual touch to stroke
With honor and command.
Turning away, fighting with,
Sending forceful passive flakes;
Whatever the meaning of its wish
The potter soon will certain break.
Watering with the still intent
Of some consistency to be filled.
Turning, pressing, folding, bent
Never breaking though his will.
With long a warring and a fray
To come to the ardor of this crier
Will come desirable animate clay
Through the trying of the fire.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Come to Jesus
This poem is the cry of my heart to those who have heard the truth, but they still won't turn to Jesus. It could be that we haven't taken the time to pray in earnest for this lost and dying world. We certainly don't preach to them as though we have the understanding that they are making a grave mistake. Oh that we would realize the truth of hell, and the reality of heaven. May this poem be a reminder to all that "no man liveth to himself," and that we are to live with eternity in mind; not just ours, but all those who still need proof that it is worth trusting Jesus.
Please enjoy...
Come to Jesus
When standing off on a shore of doubt,
we often find cares taking hold.
In struggles, we take the oft followed path
where sorrow leaves us feeling cold.
We trust in ourselves,
we don’t stop to rest,
we forsake the One who’s on high.
And in our distress, He calls out with love,
and still we heed not His cry.
Hastening on in the cares of this life,
we wonder why things look so bleak,
while the God of on high is calling with love;
if we’d listen, we could hear Him speak.
Numberless blessings are waiting inside
a heart that is broken and contrite,
yet we’d stay on our course of destruction and death
‘stead of turning to Jesus from spite.
Unless you see that the cliff is ahead,
you’ll fall in the crevasse below,
but look there are signs, there are people there standing
to tell you the safe way to go.
They’re begging, “please listen to God’s tender call.
He’s bidding you come take his hand.
Don’t trust in your way; it will lead you to death,
but this way is God’s promised land.”
Your choice is to follow your foolish intents,
to take the road you’ve been before.
Don’t stretch off that way though, you’ll see that it is
just waiting at Death’s lieing door.
But God in His mercy has called you along,
though you’ve rejected His pleading.
Consider forgiveness and trust now in Him;
He’s faithful, so just trust His leading.
Please enjoy...
Come to Jesus
When standing off on a shore of doubt,
we often find cares taking hold.
In struggles, we take the oft followed path
where sorrow leaves us feeling cold.
We trust in ourselves,
we don’t stop to rest,
we forsake the One who’s on high.
And in our distress, He calls out with love,
and still we heed not His cry.
Hastening on in the cares of this life,
we wonder why things look so bleak,
while the God of on high is calling with love;
if we’d listen, we could hear Him speak.
Numberless blessings are waiting inside
a heart that is broken and contrite,
yet we’d stay on our course of destruction and death
‘stead of turning to Jesus from spite.
Unless you see that the cliff is ahead,
you’ll fall in the crevasse below,
but look there are signs, there are people there standing
to tell you the safe way to go.
They’re begging, “please listen to God’s tender call.
He’s bidding you come take his hand.
Don’t trust in your way; it will lead you to death,
but this way is God’s promised land.”
Your choice is to follow your foolish intents,
to take the road you’ve been before.
Don’t stretch off that way though, you’ll see that it is
just waiting at Death’s lieing door.
But God in His mercy has called you along,
though you’ve rejected His pleading.
Consider forgiveness and trust now in Him;
He’s faithful, so just trust His leading.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Are We There Yet?
Here's another poem I wrote 2 years ago. I wanted to send this yesterday, but didn't have internet access. The only thing that keeps me from looking at death as a tragedy is when that person goes home to meet the Lord.
Consider the idea of a YOUNG PERSON sitting in the backseat of a vehicle, going with their parents on a long journey to a place they have been looking forward to being at for some time.
Now compare to that, an OLDER PERSON, not that it has to be an older person, who has been on their journey through life for some time now. They know Jesus Christ as their Savior. They have heard of the joys of heaven, and all the blessings as well, and though they have never been there, they still anticipate the wonder of what it will be like. In each regard they would say the same thing on the way... "ARE WE THERE YET?"
Please enjoy...
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/7/07
A poem in memory of Grandpa
Are We There Yet?
You spoke of how you wanted here
to see your Savior, Christ.
You couldn’t wait this pain to end,
and feel with His great might.
From the end of your days,
you knew the path
would soon bring joy to you;
so thoughts were often on this hope,
and words of body new.
Where your mind was stayed,
it was quite clear;
you spoke of that which was quite dear.
Like a little child wondering when
we’d get to our place sweet…
Inpatient til’ the day would come
and Jesus there you’d greet.
It could not come soon enough,
if ever time could waver.
But now I know that you are glad,
for all God’s wonders you savor.
Consider the idea of a YOUNG PERSON sitting in the backseat of a vehicle, going with their parents on a long journey to a place they have been looking forward to being at for some time.
Now compare to that, an OLDER PERSON, not that it has to be an older person, who has been on their journey through life for some time now. They know Jesus Christ as their Savior. They have heard of the joys of heaven, and all the blessings as well, and though they have never been there, they still anticipate the wonder of what it will be like. In each regard they would say the same thing on the way... "ARE WE THERE YET?"
Please enjoy...
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/7/07
A poem in memory of Grandpa
Are We There Yet?
You spoke of how you wanted here
to see your Savior, Christ.
You couldn’t wait this pain to end,
and feel with His great might.
From the end of your days,
you knew the path
would soon bring joy to you;
so thoughts were often on this hope,
and words of body new.
Where your mind was stayed,
it was quite clear;
you spoke of that which was quite dear.
Like a little child wondering when
we’d get to our place sweet…
Inpatient til’ the day would come
and Jesus there you’d greet.
It could not come soon enough,
if ever time could waver.
But now I know that you are glad,
for all God’s wonders you savor.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Horace Joseph Pollard
Two years ago today, my grandfather passed away. He was a great man. To be honest with you, I feared him greatly. He was a loving man, but he had some pretty strict standards. I could write for hours on end about how much I respected him, and also about how many things about him simply frustrated me. You may still have your grandparents around. Please don't neglect the time you have with them.
I loved, and still love my grandfather, but I would never desire to have him back here; not for the fact that he was a hard man, but because his faith, as he said, was in Jesus Christ. If that is the case, then I am looking forward to being in the same place as he. Why would I want him to come back to this sin-filled earth from the glory he is enjoying. He gets to be with Jesus. Man, I can't wait to have that!
Please enjoy...
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/6/07
-A poem in memory of Grandpa
(The day after Grandpa passed away)
Horace Joseph Pollard
In times past, and there were many,
I could never find the words to say how much I care.
But when I saw your journey through my life
I cannot cease to remember the cause for which to joy.
Your hands, though often clenched, were open all the same.
Hollowed palms with enough to hold,
That I might receive your hug.
It may have seemed you as a hardened man,
Yet I could talk and find this one of whom there is shining light.
Grace was in your fingers when you had me smell your fist.
Never would I make that mistake again.
The times of joy and laughter were brought about
By your love for family.
Instruction was your gift, and you let us know it often.
Breaking often where your knees from holding boys over it.
A traveling milkman with a story to tell, and now…
It may be weird to not have you here,
But to know of your place, which you have received in glory,
Can never be considered odd.
Your faith was in your Savior,
And to that fact you held truth.
And now I know that I will see you again;
Not as a twinkle in my eye,
Or as a shiver in my spine,
Or as a ripple on the waves,
But as you are known in Heaven;
As a child of the King.
And this is why I can smile.
Praise Jesus name!
I loved, and still love my grandfather, but I would never desire to have him back here; not for the fact that he was a hard man, but because his faith, as he said, was in Jesus Christ. If that is the case, then I am looking forward to being in the same place as he. Why would I want him to come back to this sin-filled earth from the glory he is enjoying. He gets to be with Jesus. Man, I can't wait to have that!
Please enjoy...
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/6/07
-A poem in memory of Grandpa
(The day after Grandpa passed away)
Horace Joseph Pollard
In times past, and there were many,
I could never find the words to say how much I care.
But when I saw your journey through my life
I cannot cease to remember the cause for which to joy.
Your hands, though often clenched, were open all the same.
Hollowed palms with enough to hold,
That I might receive your hug.
It may have seemed you as a hardened man,
Yet I could talk and find this one of whom there is shining light.
Grace was in your fingers when you had me smell your fist.
Never would I make that mistake again.
The times of joy and laughter were brought about
By your love for family.
Instruction was your gift, and you let us know it often.
Breaking often where your knees from holding boys over it.
A traveling milkman with a story to tell, and now…
It may be weird to not have you here,
But to know of your place, which you have received in glory,
Can never be considered odd.
Your faith was in your Savior,
And to that fact you held truth.
And now I know that I will see you again;
Not as a twinkle in my eye,
Or as a shiver in my spine,
Or as a ripple on the waves,
But as you are known in Heaven;
As a child of the King.
And this is why I can smile.
Praise Jesus name!
Friday, December 4, 2009
The god of Make-Believe
Many of the poems I send over here are written in the past. In an unusual case, I am sending an unedited poem that I just wrote today. This poem is in contrast to the one I previously did called, "God is Life" which is about the love and all-knowing nature of God.
Many people, in many places, have many different ideas about God. Some believe there isn't a God; some believe in the God of the Bible; and some even make up their own beliefs about God, and think because they believe in a God that their views definately have to be correct.
The problem with this last view, the one I will be writing about, is that they take their opinion as fact, and dismiss what the perfect, holy Bible has to say. This poem takes the latter view, and shall we say, throws out all opinion but gives them the Biblical view. Ere' I say, the problem one may find with this poem is that it has no Bible verses in it, just Bible truth plain and simple.
Please enjoy
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/4/09
The god of Make-Believe
This god you made up,
with a ‘love only’ mentality;
this god that will not take away
the joy from man for enjoying sin more;
this god that will not give the sentence of punishment
for disobeying his command;
this god that sits on a throne of red and green
with tinsel and bows, and hands out candy;
this god that lets men worship however they want;
this god that couldn’t defeat the devil
because he would never hurt anything;
this god that never wrestles with the hearts of men;
this god that would never judge anyone
for the simple reason that everyone would be doomed;
this god that would never create a hell,
let alone send someone there;
this god that can’t be what the Bible says of him
or he would be politically incorrect.
This make-believe god can’t fix the problem of sin in your heart,
but the God of the Bible can.
This make believe god can’t make retribution for sin,
But the God of the Bible is a God is a God of wrath.
A god that men make up
is a god that glosses over sin and righteousness,
and accepts every man,
but the God of the Bible respects no man’s person.
It seems there is a big difference.
I’d rather be shocked at the wrath of God now,
and turn from my sin,
than wait till it is eternally too late to find out how wrong I was.
Many people, in many places, have many different ideas about God. Some believe there isn't a God; some believe in the God of the Bible; and some even make up their own beliefs about God, and think because they believe in a God that their views definately have to be correct.
The problem with this last view, the one I will be writing about, is that they take their opinion as fact, and dismiss what the perfect, holy Bible has to say. This poem takes the latter view, and shall we say, throws out all opinion but gives them the Biblical view. Ere' I say, the problem one may find with this poem is that it has no Bible verses in it, just Bible truth plain and simple.
Please enjoy
Daniel Pollard
Poetry
12/4/09
The god of Make-Believe
This god you made up,
with a ‘love only’ mentality;
this god that will not take away
the joy from man for enjoying sin more;
this god that will not give the sentence of punishment
for disobeying his command;
this god that sits on a throne of red and green
with tinsel and bows, and hands out candy;
this god that lets men worship however they want;
this god that couldn’t defeat the devil
because he would never hurt anything;
this god that never wrestles with the hearts of men;
this god that would never judge anyone
for the simple reason that everyone would be doomed;
this god that would never create a hell,
let alone send someone there;
this god that can’t be what the Bible says of him
or he would be politically incorrect.
This make-believe god can’t fix the problem of sin in your heart,
but the God of the Bible can.
This make believe god can’t make retribution for sin,
But the God of the Bible is a God is a God of wrath.
A god that men make up
is a god that glosses over sin and righteousness,
and accepts every man,
but the God of the Bible respects no man’s person.
It seems there is a big difference.
I’d rather be shocked at the wrath of God now,
and turn from my sin,
than wait till it is eternally too late to find out how wrong I was.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
God is Life
Here's a short one. The idea to this blog may not be very clear yet, but because I love to write, I want to give others the opportunity to read some of the stuff I have written. Feel free to say if it was garbage. Sure, people say when stuff is to their liking, but it is rare when someone cuts down the writer, and says they couldn't understand it, or even if it was shallow. Please feel free. Keep me from the sin of pride. Too much praise is unbalanced.
One reason why I love Esther, among the millions, is that she is not afraid to let me know if something needs work. She, a close second to God, is my great inspiration. I love her very much.
Please enjoy...
God Is Life
God is life, God is love,
Omniscient author from above.
Such a question of His being
Something still my eyes not seeing.
All the fancies of this world
Loving hands have all unfurled.
What is my life without Him
Cares, desires fading dim.
All care for sparrows of the skies
Never closing are His eyes.
Before this sentence e’er began
My thoughts He knew, each breath, each ban.
God is life, God is love,
Omniscient author from above.
One reason why I love Esther, among the millions, is that she is not afraid to let me know if something needs work. She, a close second to God, is my great inspiration. I love her very much.
Please enjoy...
God Is Life
God is life, God is love,
Omniscient author from above.
Such a question of His being
Something still my eyes not seeing.
All the fancies of this world
Loving hands have all unfurled.
What is my life without Him
Cares, desires fading dim.
All care for sparrows of the skies
Never closing are His eyes.
Before this sentence e’er began
My thoughts He knew, each breath, each ban.
God is life, God is love,
Omniscient author from above.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Author's explanation to Innocence
Yesterday, I put up a poem called Innocence. Today, I am going to try to explain in as well as I can. I'll get right into it...
1st off - starting with the title, Innocence, and down through the rest of the poem, each line has exactly 9 letters. Count them if you don't believe me. I was writing this poem from the point of view of a 9 year old boy, right at the time in life when you are no longer a little no-nothing child, but yet not a sophisticated (ha!!!) teenager.
The boy is watching another child, swing on a swing, not just any swing, but their personal swing. The child on the swing is genderless (sometimes it changes depending on my mood).
The child on the swing, soars through the air and jumps into a pile of leaves (yellow and reds). Guess what season it is? The season when everything starts to die. Yup, Halloween. No just messing.
"Your blank eyes soar broad, faintly in the clouds and back in view again." Now the child gets back on the swing, after jumping off and landing in the leaves. As the boy watches the other child from the ground, the explanation he gives is of him going high (faintly in the clouds), and then coming back down (and back in view again). With the child on their way back down, the boy is getting frustrated. Ready to see this?
"Stop flyin’ on my swing- it’s my turn to shatter this sound barrier." The child from the ground has expressed his desire to see the other child get off HIS swing. See the controlling factor of the boy? He can't have somebody else enjoying themself on HIS swing. The sound barrier is simply to show that he knows something about going fast. He's heard of Mach 1 and loves to imagine himself going fast. He is past the point of "chase me, Daddy" and thinking he is still faster than Dad, but has not gotten the childish sensation out of his head to imagine himself being the fastest in the world, even if it is swinging from a plastic swing.
"Do you see the changes in the sky? I am twinkling now under a star." Have you ever stretched back in the swing, and leaned back as far as you can, holding on to the chains with a tight grip while your hair practically touches the ground. Something tells me that I'm not the only one who has. He is stretched out, looking upside down as he looks behind him at the open sky of darkness. But the light-headed feeling he has almost makes him feel starry, and dreamy, and he is the one twinkling. Picture the little birdies above his head. Did you notice that? Oh, maybe I just added that for some fun.
"As it’s flashed in as I squint, throwing a blackness to the back of my brain." The starry, hazy feeling he has is starting to make him light-headed, causing him to have a pain in his head (the squinting). Now do you see what the blackness in his brain is about? When a child feels pain, what is their first reaction, especially when it is something they have never experienced before? They think they are about to die. Now I am not saying that this is every child, but many will start freaking out at the sight of blood, a weird bump, a rash, etc. Why? They don't understand what happened, so it MUST be fatal.
"Forcing me to reach in-to deep dry grass." Notice that this is an involuntary action. The boy has no control over what happens. It is not another person that forces him off the swing into the grass, but the feeling in his head, and the squinting from the pain that has caused him to lose his balance. If you want, you could say that the other child, who for a while in this poem has stepped off the scenes, is the one that forced him off by pushing him, and that would work, but that wasn't what was going through my mind. Still, feel free to interprite it as you will.
"As my sight goes dim, waking up, lying on this Earth, flat with a deafening laugh thru the ground." Now the effects of his actions are taking hold. He is lying on the grass, in pain, lost his sight(momentarily) from hitting his head, because that's the first thing that is going to hit the ground when you are practically lying over the seat upside-down. His position: flat on the Earth; his eyes: shut. he is hurt, but through all of this, he still can hear the sound of the other child, the one that he told to get off his swing, that is laughing at him. That is the deafening laugh. The child that he told to get off the swing has watched him hurt himself, and they are loving it.
What about naming the poem Vindication. Nah, I like this title. Here's why...
The children, though innocent in theory, still have the nature as human beings to enjoy other people's demise. I felt it to be a fitting title to such a weighty poem. So much joy can come from being a child, but oh, we still remember the times when someone laughted at our pain. I am not trying to be sinister in any regard. Just think of childhood. We go back in our mind to the days when everything was innocent, and what did we say? I can't wait til I'm older! As children, we learn lessons that we soon forget. So many people hate being a kid, but when they look back on life, it almost seems that they would long for the days of innocence again only to forget the many things that caused us to loathe it so much.
1st off - starting with the title, Innocence, and down through the rest of the poem, each line has exactly 9 letters. Count them if you don't believe me. I was writing this poem from the point of view of a 9 year old boy, right at the time in life when you are no longer a little no-nothing child, but yet not a sophisticated (ha!!!) teenager.
The boy is watching another child, swing on a swing, not just any swing, but their personal swing. The child on the swing is genderless (sometimes it changes depending on my mood).
The child on the swing, soars through the air and jumps into a pile of leaves (yellow and reds). Guess what season it is? The season when everything starts to die. Yup, Halloween. No just messing.
"Your blank eyes soar broad, faintly in the clouds and back in view again." Now the child gets back on the swing, after jumping off and landing in the leaves. As the boy watches the other child from the ground, the explanation he gives is of him going high (faintly in the clouds), and then coming back down (and back in view again). With the child on their way back down, the boy is getting frustrated. Ready to see this?
"Stop flyin’ on my swing- it’s my turn to shatter this sound barrier." The child from the ground has expressed his desire to see the other child get off HIS swing. See the controlling factor of the boy? He can't have somebody else enjoying themself on HIS swing. The sound barrier is simply to show that he knows something about going fast. He's heard of Mach 1 and loves to imagine himself going fast. He is past the point of "chase me, Daddy" and thinking he is still faster than Dad, but has not gotten the childish sensation out of his head to imagine himself being the fastest in the world, even if it is swinging from a plastic swing.
"Do you see the changes in the sky? I am twinkling now under a star." Have you ever stretched back in the swing, and leaned back as far as you can, holding on to the chains with a tight grip while your hair practically touches the ground. Something tells me that I'm not the only one who has. He is stretched out, looking upside down as he looks behind him at the open sky of darkness. But the light-headed feeling he has almost makes him feel starry, and dreamy, and he is the one twinkling. Picture the little birdies above his head. Did you notice that? Oh, maybe I just added that for some fun.
"As it’s flashed in as I squint, throwing a blackness to the back of my brain." The starry, hazy feeling he has is starting to make him light-headed, causing him to have a pain in his head (the squinting). Now do you see what the blackness in his brain is about? When a child feels pain, what is their first reaction, especially when it is something they have never experienced before? They think they are about to die. Now I am not saying that this is every child, but many will start freaking out at the sight of blood, a weird bump, a rash, etc. Why? They don't understand what happened, so it MUST be fatal.
"Forcing me to reach in-to deep dry grass." Notice that this is an involuntary action. The boy has no control over what happens. It is not another person that forces him off the swing into the grass, but the feeling in his head, and the squinting from the pain that has caused him to lose his balance. If you want, you could say that the other child, who for a while in this poem has stepped off the scenes, is the one that forced him off by pushing him, and that would work, but that wasn't what was going through my mind. Still, feel free to interprite it as you will.
"As my sight goes dim, waking up, lying on this Earth, flat with a deafening laugh thru the ground." Now the effects of his actions are taking hold. He is lying on the grass, in pain, lost his sight(momentarily) from hitting his head, because that's the first thing that is going to hit the ground when you are practically lying over the seat upside-down. His position: flat on the Earth; his eyes: shut. he is hurt, but through all of this, he still can hear the sound of the other child, the one that he told to get off his swing, that is laughing at him. That is the deafening laugh. The child that he told to get off the swing has watched him hurt himself, and they are loving it.
What about naming the poem Vindication. Nah, I like this title. Here's why...
The children, though innocent in theory, still have the nature as human beings to enjoy other people's demise. I felt it to be a fitting title to such a weighty poem. So much joy can come from being a child, but oh, we still remember the times when someone laughted at our pain. I am not trying to be sinister in any regard. Just think of childhood. We go back in our mind to the days when everything was innocent, and what did we say? I can't wait til I'm older! As children, we learn lessons that we soon forget. So many people hate being a kid, but when they look back on life, it almost seems that they would long for the days of innocence again only to forget the many things that caused us to loathe it so much.
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