Agape Love

Agape, photo by Marcelino Rapayla Jr., from Flickr, Creative Commons

This National Poetry Month I will be posting a sequence of poems, written last year and this year, for others in a series called Giving Poetry. In this series, people request a poem using a title, specific words, concepts, or ideas. After writing the poem, I send it to them, posting it on Facebook and on my blog. This is Giving Poetry.

Concept: Agape Love

Agape Love: for Crysty

The true friend, the sister, the brother,

looks beyond the self and to the other.

The Christian’s love doth commune!

It spills out into service and makes room—

space and time, for people, the body, His bride—

God’s church—under His cross—under His steeple.

Agape love is broken as bread and intertwines.

It pours out in communion wine—in joy—as we dine.

Agape love is a feast of fellowship divine.

His life and love poured out for yours and for mine.

© April 2, 2016, Robbie Pruitt

Healing Words

The Whisper, Photo by Brian Smithson, from Flickr, Creative Commons

This National Poetry Month I will be posting a sequence of poems, written last year and this year, for others in a series called Giving Poetry. In this series, people request a poem using a title, specific words, concepts, or ideas. After writing the poem, I send it to them, posting it on Facebook and on my blog. This is Giving Poetry. 

Healing words

Healing Words: for Marcy

Healing words
They breathe life
Like balm and salve
They soothe
Nurturing the soul
Encouraging
They extol
Nurturing
They make us whole

© February 5, 2015, Robbie Pruitt

God's Beautiful Gift To Us

Nativity Icon, Photo by Ted, from Flickr, Creative Commons

This National Poetry Month I will be posting a sequence of poems, written last year and this year, for others in a series called Giving Poetry. In this series, people request a poem using a title, specific words, concepts, or ideas. After writing the poem, I send it to them, posting it on Facebook and on my blog. This is Giving Poetry. 

God's beautiful gift to us

God's Beautiful Gift To Us: for Fred

God's beautiful gift to us
Was wrapped small and tight
In swaddling clothes
In the star lit night

Heaven and earth collided
In manger and in stall
To reveal the love of God
For one and for all

God's beautiful gift to us
In a package humble and small
Ushers in God’s Kingdom
Giving life and restoration to the fall

© February 5, 2015, Robbie Pruitt

Harvest

Soybeans Ready for Harvest, from Flickr, Creative Commons

This National Poetry Month I will be posting a sequence of poems, written last year and this year, for others in a series called Giving Poetry. In this series, people request a poem using a title, specific words, concepts, or ideas. After writing the poem, I send it to them, posting it on Facebook and on my blog. This is Giving Poetry.

Title: Harvest

Words: autumn, sunrise, Jesus

Harvest: for Elizabeth

Autumn waits

For the sunrise

To usher in the spring

For planting and sewing

And then the harvest

The fruits Jesus would bring


© February 5, 2015, Robbie Pruitt

Lifeblood

Lifeblood

The embodied Word bleeds

When one speaks it

It pours out in hemorrhage

Giving Life for those who seek it.

© January 30, 2015, Robbie Pruitt

Blood, photo by Mate Marschalko, from Flickr, Creative Commons

Simon of Cyrene

Simon of Cyrene carries the cross, photo by Damian Gadal, from Flickr

“As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.”   –Luke 23:26

Simon of Cyrene 

Barely carrying the weight of me,

In from the country and into the city,

I watched from the periphery, 

Around noon on that day of doom.

Crosses were carried in the street.

The crowds cried aloud and chanted. 

He fell at my feet. 

From the weathered road His eyes met mine.

His compassion intertwined

With those who were to blame,

With my own guilt and shame,

And then, they called my name.

“You there! Pick up that cross.

It’s yours to bear.” I cannot stand,

Not under this weight of this command,

Nor take up this cross from His hand.

No burden this great had ever been born in Cyrene.

Never such a cruelty forlorn—never a thing so mean

—Never a thing this obscene.

The weight was lifted onto my shoulders, 

And I too was mocked by the crowd and soldiers. 

I was ashamed and He seemed to grow bolder.

He charged forward under great weight, 

As if to carry the world—This I did not anticipate—

Me hunched over, as He stood straight.

His eyes set on that cruel Hill as time stood still. 

He swayed gently at the fatigue and brutality.

Me with the tree and His face set on eternity.

Together we charged the hill with determination.

He would bring about the world’s salvation.

My task was but a gesture to appease Roman appeal,
But His burden and sacrifice was real. It would heal.

© April 17, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Gethsemane

Photo taken from the following website here

“Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. ‘Simon,’ he said to Peter, ‘are you asleep? Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’” –Mark 14: 37-38

Gethsemane

Asleep in the garden

We cannot pray

Nor wait up with You 

Until the dawn of day

Weary, the flesh grows tired

The spirit wills under the weight

The blood drops on stone

As the sound of footsteps

Stop at the gate—We wait 

Betrayal is at hand

From our slumber we stand

Your captors are here

We who take your life are near 

In the shadows of night

As torch light flickers 

Fear overcomes and settles in,

Swords are drawn, the trial begins

You are guilty of nothing—it is our sin

That stole You away, put You on trial,

And hung you from the cross that day

© January 11, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

21 Martyrs

Since the first century, Christians have endured persecution. Yet in the midst of death, the Church remained alive and hopeful remembering Jesus’ promise, “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:10)

“Persecution of Christians wakes a slumbering church. This call to remembrance and prayer reminds us that the blood of the martyrs has always been the seed for a revived church. May we remain sober-minded and fall to our knees in prayer for God to stir our hearts to obedience.”

(Gabe Lyons, World Magazine, Christian leaders unite in call to prayer for persecuted church: http://www.worldmag.com/2015/02/christian_leaders_unite_in_call_to_prayer_for_persecuted_church, 21 Martyrs: http://21martyrs.com)


21 Martyrs

Twenty-one lives
Kneeling on sand
Twenty-one fell
At his command
Twenty-one prayers
On Rock, they land
Twenty-one souls
They kneel; they stand
Twenty-one call, “Jesus!”
His blood cries from the sand
Twenty-one take His hand


© February 21, 2015, Robbie Pruitt


“We give thanks to you, O Lord our God, for all your servants
 and witnesses of time past: for Abraham, the father of believers, and Sarah his wife; for Moses, the lawgiver, and Aaron, the
 priest; for Miriam and Joshua, Deborah and Gideon, and
 Samuel with Hannah his mother; for Isaiah and all the prophets; for Mary, the mother of our Lord; for Peter and Paul and all
 the apostles; for Mary and Martha, and Mary Magdalene; for
 Stephen, the first martyr, and all the martyrs and saints in
 every age and in every land. In your mercy, O Lord our God, give us, as you gave to them, the hope of salvation and the 
promise of eternal life; through Jesus Christ our Lord, the 
first-born of many from the dead. Amen.” (Book of Common Prayer, p. 838)

Simon of Cyrene

Simon of Cyrene carries the cross, 
photo by Damian Gadal, from Flickr

“As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.”   –Luke 23:26

Simon of Cyrene

Barely carrying the weight of me,

In from the country and into the city,

I watched from the periphery,

Around noon on that day of doom.

Crosses were carried in the street.

The crowds cried aloud and chanted.

He fell at my feet.

From the weathered road His eyes met mine.

His compassion intertwined

With those who were to blame,

With my own guilt and shame,

And then, they called my name.

“You there! Pick up that cross.

It’s yours to bear.” I cannot stand,

Not under this weight of this command,

Nor take up this cross from His hand.

No burden this great had ever been born in Cyrene.

Never such a cruelty forlorn—never a thing so mean

—Never a thing this obscene.

The weight was lifted onto my shoulders,

And I too was mocked by the crowd and soldiers.

I was ashamed and He seemed to grow bolder.

He charged forward under great weight,

As if to carry the world—This I did not anticipate—

Me hunched over, as He stood straight.

His eyes set on that cruel Hill as time stood still.

He swayed gently at the fatigue and brutality.

Me with the tree and His face set on eternity.

Together we charged the hill with determination.

He would bring about the world’s salvation.

My task was but a gesture to appease Roman appeal,
But His burden and sacrifice was real. It would heal.

© April 17, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Gethsemane

Photo taken from the following website here

“Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. ‘Simon,’ he said to Peter, ‘are you asleep? Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’” –Mark 14: 37-38

Gethsemane

Asleep in the garden

We cannot pray

Nor wait up with You

Until the dawn of day

Weary, the flesh grows tired

The spirit wills under the weight

The blood drops on stone

As the sound of footsteps

Stop at the gate—We wait

Betrayal is at hand

From our slumber we stand

Your captors are here

We who take your life are near

In the shadows of night

As torch light flickers

Fear overcomes and settles in,

Swords are drawn, the trial begins

You are guilty of nothing—it is our sin

That stole You away, put You on trial,

And hung you from the cross that day

© January 11, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Judas: Blood Cries from the Ground

Cain Killing Able, photo by gabork, from Creative Commons

Judas: Blood Cries from the Ground

Judas—The Potter’s Field

Drips with the blood

Of this tree’s yield

Your Brother’s blood

It cries out—Judas—

From the ground

As in the days of Able—

The day of Cain’s betrayal.

He offered the perfect sacrifice

But yours would not suffice

And it cries from the ground

Below the burst of the noose

Where your life was bound.

Redemption was won on another tree,

—Judas—Bought by the blood of Calvary

A perfect sacrifice for eternity

He is His brother’s keeper

In this—This is His perfect chivalry


© February 11, 2014, Robbie Pruitt