Ode to Our Heav'nly Father

Remember that you must do honor still
       Unto thy Father, Mother and all God
Has placed above you by His Sov'reign will
       Obey and honor them though they are flawed!      
What joy there is that comes from joyful roles
       Where trusting and obedience then show
               A hallowed confidence upon that one
       What joy and peace and love that then shall show
Enliv'ning hearts and warming souls,
               As Father was obeyed by God the Son.

- D. Benning

Not Fame But Glory

The heart of man does strive for accolades,
   For fleeting wealth and power in a name,
   Not reck'ning that misleading treasure fades
   And new-found power leads to tarnished shame.
   But we were never made for earthly fame—
   A filthy pile of rocks that counts for naught.
   See there in Heav'n a prized eternal frame
   Of Glory that His Son for us has bought.
Not fame but Glory in His Son we're shaped and wrought.

- D. Benning

I Am Not a Poet

I am not a poet;
   I make no visual art;
I labor but can't show it—
   A product from my heart.

Words of random garbage,
   Dreams of ill-thought scrapings,
Wanton notes discarded,
   Logic leaps a-gaping.

Yet I labor at it,
   Unsung by crowds or fame;
I act as if I had it,
   The perfect verse my aim.

Pointless this is not though:
   My worthless work is viewed
By One who wholly all-knows,
   Whose Love imbues me through.

I'm not a mighty poet,
   My words won't change the world—
In spite of how I wrote it—
   Yet here these words unfurled.

God Almighty loves me—
   My words here I own it.
Praise the grace above me
   Falt'ring words of poet.

- D. Benning

I think that I shall never

It's true that we shall never see
A human craft that lasts eternally.

For God alone is eternal
Who speaks and life springs forth vernal.

All crafts will look to God always
And lift their voice in joyful praise;

For crafts that tell the tale of men—
All writings that were set to pen—

Upon the palette of their skill
Men think to bolster what they shill

But skills are from our Lord Above
Who gives His art in hea'nly Love.

- D. Benning

The Lord of Time and Space

The Reigning King, the God of Time and Space,
Who sees beginning from the end: all now!
And knows completely each within its place—

For all shall come before You low to bow;
There is no time nor place nor storied tribe
Where You are not revered—Eternal Thou!

See Time and Place as Hist'ry's willing Scribe
To tell Your exploits, wonders, deeds and pow'r.
Each nation rises up as You prescribe;

Each action, thought—each fleeting, passing hour—
Redounds unto Your praise, O You Adored!
Your favor shines on us as Eden's bow'r

To point us, draw us, woo and bring us toward
Eternity's one Goal: the Sovereign Lord.

- D. Benning

Lan Limb

Lan Limb lifts loam.
Lan's lamb lifts loam.
Lan Limb loans loam.
Lan's lamb loans loam.

Lamb loans loam from lines Lan Limb lifts.
Lan Limb loans loam from lines Lan's lamb lifts.

Lately, Lan's lamb's lone lines leer lamely.
Lan's lone lamb lately lost and on the lam.


Thank you, Dr. Seuss

- D. Benning

Remnant of Bygone Days

Remnant of Bygone Days — Sherry Lynn

 
There is a bridge in disrepair,
  The Bayou Bridge of Old;
Its wooden deck and time-worn wear
  Tell many stories yet untold.
 
It is a Remnant of a Bygone Day,
  The mem'ries of a passing time:
The trees and grass, the shrubs and quay—
  The promised summertime.

Then light and bright and sight and sound
   With smells and winds and breezes
Around me grow with glory crowned—
   The image in mind now freezes.

And then my mind with mem'ries filled
   Thinks back to summers long before;
My heart was thrilled, and then fulfilled—
   The call of past I can't ignore!

But quickly gone the mem'ry passes,
   I notice that the day moves forth.
The atmosphere with glowing gases
   Shimmers bright up to the north.

I take my leave with heavy heart—
   Will find I soon this Bridge of Old?
But in my heart I take a part
   Of Bayou Bridge—and I recall its gold!

- D. Benning

The Old Bayou Bridge — Sherry Lynn

O Sovereign Lord

O Sovereign Lord, O Potentate of Heav'n,
O Mighty Liege from whom all life and light
Do spring and meet in blessing giv'n:

The nations rage and foam and writhe with night
To seek to thwart Your rule and overturn
Your Glory with the cunning kiss of blight.

Bend near, O Gracious Lord, for they yet burn
Within their hearts to lust and desecrate
Your laws, Your courts—Your people they do spurn.

But You are near: Your Grace to demonstrate,
Your power shown in weak and lacking souls—
The Paraclete, our Holy Advocate!

So come, O Lord, and strengthen us in whole,
Fill us with Pow'r so us You then control.

- D. Benning