Poetic Messenger
The Word of God came unto me,
Before I was formed in the womb;
The day coming that He could see,
When I would be laying in a tomb.
But He foresaw me in a role,
As He appointed me to write;
From deep within my heart and soul,
Through poetry having insight.
I said that I could never write,
Like Frost or Edgar Allan Poe;
Their talent is better and bright,
Farther than I could ever go.
God said that they have been long gone,
And not even holy enough;
But why me that He looked upon,
For being filled with the right stuff.
The Lord is with me all the way,
And no need for me to have fear;
As long as I laud and obey,
I can count on Him being near.
So God reached out and touched my hand,
Guiding my pen on the paper;
As I sent poems to every land,
Being His poetic helper.
Copyright © 2010 Richard Newton Sherrer
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Poetic Messenger
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