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
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
You overlook the garden
and the porch handrail.
Together with your ravens,
off on a sail.
Though I’ve never seen a page turn
or heard a sound from your birds,
I thought for sure you glanced up once,
just at the moment I turned.
You three sail the world
with your concrete tome.
Though as anyone can see
you’d find it difficult to roam.
I take those journeys also,
but I’m jealous of your commitment.
But then perhaps you are jealous of me,
living my life not cemented.
© Joel Tipple
296
And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!”
Romans 10:15 ESV (English Standard Version)
Blessed are
the feet of those
who bring good news
and a light to shine in the darkened places.
Blessed are
the hands of those
who labor tirelessly
for those with weary faces.
We don’t always see
the ones spreading hope
of a destiny
many thought went missing long ago.
Sometimes thinly disguised,
contained within caring eyes,
and conversations that go beyond
the surface,
to communicate the saving message
for both kings and vagabonds.
© Joel Tipple
ink impediment
log-jammed idea river fount
reason for rhyme
© Joel Tipple
For God alone my soul waits in silence;
from him comes my salvation.
2 He alone is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken.
Psalm 62:1-2 ESV (English Standard Version)
Resting in the knowledge
that it’s not just talk.
My reality is
God is my rock.
A lot of people are tossed about
fretful because of the news:
war and destruction
in this world.
But in the final analysis
only one house will remain,
and that belongs to the Lord.
© Joel Tipple
Shadow, are you opposed to light?
Do you think your poor image is
associated
with your negative disposition?
© Joel Tipple
Your name belies your disposition, not hard at all. You started life catching wind on a poorly designed chime.
Now you adorn the door to the backyard shed. When you landed here, the shed’s paint was dark gray. Now the paint
is peeling and faded, every bit the hue of battleship gray, after the battle. No, you aren’t hard, but you do endure.
You do endure.
© Joel Tipple
Do I think myself opaque, Lord?
Not transparent, though I surely am.
Hesitant, do I seek to hold back
some part of me from your plan?
Help me surrender every aspect,
reveal you in me as I do.
Mold me, oh great Maker.
Perfect me for Your use.
© Joel Tipple
Speak into my life hope.
The horizon appears bleak sometimes
and I’m looking for a length of rope.
Speak into my life light.
At times it seems so dark and I can’t see well to fight.
Speak into my life strength.
I’ve tried too long to make it on my own
and feel I’m about to break.
Speak into my life faith.
I started with what seemed enough.
Now my belief feels second rate.
Speak into my life and pray.
We both need God to fight for us
and help us win the day.
For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.”
Matthew 18:20 English Standard Version (ESV)
© Joel Tipple
Write here, Joel. 