Poetry

Vessel to Serve

Why did you call
me,
this nondescript vessel?
I’m every-day-ware, with a few chips from use.
How do I dare take a place on your table?
And yet you say I’m beautiful. And you use me.

It’s the same mistake we make every time,
trying to discover our purpose
our way.
But the vessel cannot dictate to the potter.
It doesn’t have the final say.

Let your love pour forth from this vessel.
Help me get out of the way, and let Your Spirit work.
I know this God, You didn’t make your vessel
to store.
You made it to serve.

Here at your table, your everyday vessels,
redeemed and rescued from sin.
We humbly offer ourselves Lord.
however you care to use us,
pray begin, Lord.
Begin.

Let your love pour forth from this vessel.
Help me get out of the way, and let Your Spirit work.
I know this God, You didn’t make your vessel
to store.
You made it to serve.

© Joel Tipple
310

Cursive

A more inappropriate word
I believe I have not found
it just doesn’t bear examining,
like most other words around.

Well…
The word is cursive,
a most contradictory word.
Beautiful writing bound with ugly speaking…
a concept, frankly, I find absurd.

When one pounds one’s thumb with a hammer
elegant lines and flourishes don’t appear.
Instead what falls south from an undisciplined mouth
is more like an eruption from a gassy rear.

Sorry.

I’ll readily admit,
It’s a craft I’ve never mastered.
I mean the writing part,
my handwriting is a disaster.
An artist with a pen I’m not,
though mostly the letters find their right place.
So I decided long ago to not try,
thus saving face.

Now cursing, as a boy,
I recall being quite good at.
At least it was effortless,
especially when I was at bat.
But then after introspection
following a revelation from the Lord,
I turned over a new leaf,
cleaned up my act
and found language I didn’t abhor.

Now I admit the occasional slip,
like the other night when half of my poem disappeared
I did let one rip.
To the cat and dog I apologize.
If I ever pick up that bad habit again,
feel free to claw me down to size.

© Joel Tipple
309

what to write

just between you and me Lord
tonight I don’t know what to write
the cursor blinking teasingly at me
is mocking and a fright
production has ground to a standstill
like the government of late
and it seems I’ve lost the numbers
needed to open the gate
I keep sliding screens across my brain
the way I do with my phone
but it’s so hard to write something worthy
when it seems there’s nothing home
Please help me tomorrow
with some energy in a cup
and a couple extra brain cells
with shoestring synapses to tie them up
For tonight I bid you thanks
for abundant grace and truth
your love for your creation
needs of course no more proof
good night

© Joel Tipple
308

Walking Around

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Lord, do you think it’s breaking?
Can you confirm the sound?
They say when you have children
it’s like your heart out there
walking around.

Walking around out there in the world,
a boy, a girl, or both.
Forever young though years may pass,
the cord feels like a rope.
Lord I know you’ve been there,
so I won’t waste words complaining
it isn’t fair.

Lord I know we can be
a little melodramatic,
and parents throughout the ages
have been correctly described as frantic.
But since you gave us each a heart,
perhaps share the reasons,
and as long as we’re going through it,
help us survive the seasons.

Walking around out there in the world,
an evolution of trust.
A joy and burden all wrapped up,
though we try not to fuss.
Mentioned in our prayers often,
if not more.
A wise parent focuses on the gratitude score.

© Joel Tipple
307

Not Such a Bad Idea?

Imagine our cars
transparent.
Just like Wonder Woman’s jet.
All those anonymous travelers,
those people you haven’t yet met,
were visible and seemingly vulnerable.
Would you act the same?

How about then reducing the speed?
Let’s say 45.
Would we have time to see the country
and more likely stay alive?
Would we miss the animals
that so often get in our way?
I wonder what else we would notice
at that much less hectic pace?

What if we had to stop,
say every five miles?
What if we talked to our fellow travelers,
and passed pleasantries for a while?
I know this all sounds like a fools paradise
and you’ve got places to go.
But if we all slowed down and really looked at each other more,
I believe in some valuable ways we’d grow.

© Joel Tipple
306

That

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When you see the biggest waterfall
you’ve ever seen, and its size and noise transports you to somewhere amazing…
That.
When you endure discomfort and put forth more effort than you thought you could,
and finish the race, because you said you would…
That.
When the young lady you respect and love says she loves you too
and wants to spend her life with you…
That.
That’s what it is to ask God to please use your gift to make a real impact for Him
and for Him to make that dream come true. It really is
that.

© Joel Tipple
305

Collateral Bewitch Spikenard

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Me and my collateral,
most of the definitions but behind.
She bewitched me with loving intentions,
and an aromatic spikenard fine.
I cannot see her faults,
nor
do I believe they exist.
And if I’m the victim of a blinding fog,
persist mist, persist.

© Joel Tipple
304

Why I Write (the short version)

I don’t always know what to say.
Sometimes the
words
just sort of
fall out.
Sometimes
I don’t know what
I really think
until
I write it.
And yet
for a long time
I resisted
exercising my voice
and vision.
I’ve given up
wasting energy
fighting it.
And
that’s a good thing.

© Joel Tipple
303

A Man

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John Q. Person, have you considered
what it means to be a man,
since the time someone told you
you were one?
Have you just been placing
one foot after the other,
but without a genuine plan, son?

I can tell you a man isn’t passive.
He refuses to trust to luck.
He knows the size of the heart in a man
isn’t measured by the size of his truck.
He knows the best leaders are followers too.
He knows about God’s reward.
He has an almost desperate desire
to find genuine ways to serve.

He knows each man has a talent
unique and given by God.
He strives to find and develop his own gifts
while not chasing after laud.
He never stops learning.
He values laughter
and tears.
He remains forever grateful
and cherishes every year.

© Joel Tipple
302