The Poet's Page
By Vic George 2003
I wander through paths of the forest
I wander across sand dunes of the beach
I wander through dry and rocky places
I wander through the snowy tundra
I wander underneath in the world of the ocean
I wander and take in all the scenery
I watch the weather pour out all the sun and rain
I wander continuously through the mindscape
Of places Iíve been and places Iíve yet to be
And I wonder even in all these places Iíve wandered
If I will ever see Your wonderful face
THE STORM AT SEA
By Vic George 2003
I walk out to the rocky shores of the beach
And it was the worst day to walk outside
For I couldnít even find the seagulls
It was raining hard and the winds were rough
The waves of the sea were rising high
And crashing against the rocks of the shore
The storm clouds were dark and ominous
And I fear in my heart that I would never see day again
Then all of a sudden, I could hear, ďPeace, be stillĒ,
And then the wind stopped and the sea calmed
And the clouds parted and the sun shone through
And everything upon the beach was at peace again
But sometimes itís like this within my soul
When itís nothing but high winds and hard rains
And waves of trouble crashing all over me
It is within this place that I wait to hear
The voice of Him saying to me, ďPeace, be stillĒ
OPEN THE DOOR
By Vic George 2003
I lay asleep in my bed in the quiet darkness
When all of a sudden, I hear somebody knock,
Saying, ďLet Me in, for I must stay at your placeĒ
I do not know who it is that it is knocking
For it is neither a family member nor a friend,
Yet He is no threat or danger to my soul.
I fret and worry about my own appearance.
I have no robe to put on me, and I lost my slippers.
Should I dare to go to the door as I am and answer?
Yet He continues to knock, waiting patiently.
I rush out of my bed and go to the door,
And as I work to unlock it, I can feel something
Warm and liquid pouring over my hand.
It looks like blood, yet smells like fragrance.
I finally open the door, expecting to see somebody,
But all I see beyond it is the night outside.
Did I wait too long, and has He gone away?
Yet the smell of His fragrance remained upon me.
It didnít take too long before I even went back to sleep
That He has entered in through the door of my heart.
By Vic George 2002
Itís hard to keep on looking forward
When you know thereís so much behind you,
So many things you promised to do,
Yet left undone because other things got in the way.
So many people you cherished
That helped you along on the path youíve taken,
Some who are gone, some who are forgotten.
So many others who have challenged you,
Berated you, hated you, did all sorts of evil to you,
Who have now gone the way of the wayward.
So full of regret and remorse, so full of hatred,
So very angered by what never came to pass,
These things hold you back from going forward,
From seeing the light at the end of the world.
Yet time never stops moving forward and onward,
Toward the time when all time ceases to be,
When all things of this world also cease to be
And a new world comes forth in its place
Where all things of old are no longer remembered
And joy and purity and righteousness dwell.
So letís not continue trying to reverse time,
But journey forward into the promise of tomorrow,
Into a world that has yet to come.
STEALING YOUR CROWN
By Vic George 2003
He has promised when He comes again,
We will be where He is,
For we will meet Him in the clouds
And He will take us to His Father's place
Where there are many mansions
And we cast our crowns before the One
Who is worthy to wear the crowns of praise,
And we will be kept from the hour of trial
That shall test those who dwell on the earth.
So why are there those who will say
That He already came again when He hasn't?
Why are there those who will say
That His coming isn't until later,
After the days of great tribulation,
And that His bride must go through it
In order to be worthy to be married to Him?
Aren't we already being prepared for Him now,
As we wash our robes white in His blood,
And cleansing ourselves through His word?
They are thieves, robbers, and perverts,
Working for the enemy to steal our crowns,
To take away the joy of our blessed hope
Which is the Lord's coming
And our escape from this corrupt world
Which shall be redeemed when He sets foot
Upon the mountain that shall divide in half.
They are numbered with the fools and mockers,
Who have already said in their hearts,
"We have waited for the Lord's coming in vain,
And since then, nothing's changed."
And they are in league with those who say,
"God has forsaken His people Israel forever,"
Who conspire against Him and His Anointed One,
Saying, "Let us break Their bonds,
And let us cast away Their cords from us,
And let us take His inheritance for ourselves."
Remember His word to hold fast what you have
So that no one may take your crown,
And to always watch and pray to be counted worthy
To escape the things that shall come to pass
And that you shall stand before the Son of Man.
For when He comes again,
Will He ever find faith on the earth?
OFF THE DEEP END
By Vic George 2004
I feel myself being off the deep end,
Like an astronaut stranded in space,
Surrounded by a watery vacuum
Of greens and blues and browns.
Iím gone down into the depths,
Covered all over in a second skin
With fins, a mask, and an oxygen tank.
I see schools of fish whirling around me
And strange formations of coral and plants,
A world of its own existing apart from mine,
A valuable treasure of buried treats
And unmatchable beauty under the sea.
Itís too bad I canít stay for long down there;
It almost looks like paradise,
Or maybe Iíve gone too far off the deep end.
By Vic George 2005
Trapped in a maze with no way out
Isolated in a world of my own making
Engulfed within my own thoughts and feelings
I come to know me more than I care to know
The wall is too high for me to climb
And too wide for me to go to either side
And too thick for me to break through
Yet I still call to see if thereís anybody out there
While they call to see if thereís anybody in here
No sound is heard except my own voice
And my fists getting sore as they pound endlessly
Against the mortar and bricks that hold up the wall
I pace around in utter frustration
Not sure of what else I can do
To let the world know that I live and have needs
Do I continue to pound away at the wall
Or do I just sit tight and hope somebody comes
To rescue me from this tomb of myself?
Either way, thereís just no stopping
I need to continue on in order to break through