Christian Poetry and Spoken Word Media for Churches and Faith

Such a Time

16.02.2014 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

It is your time
this moment
The purposes of your heart
flying to a new horizon,
A sea sunset
before you,
Colour stretching opportunities
that look thin at first
in the light of day,
But stand brighter
as darkness falls,
And as you travel
to the distant thin line
Distance develops behind,
distance from previous relationships
distance from harmony conversations
Distance from the land left behind
distance from what has been safe
distance from love in the Christchurch city,

As you travel towards
the iridescent line
a new day dawns forward
in a dissolving horizon
Creating new destiny
new conversations
new shelter and freedoms
new love,
a luminous life
for you are
God's lights
fireflies to the horizon.

Starting Thoughts: Written for friends travelling overseas into mission. A word to encourage and celebrate their new journey taking part of us with them.
Poem Topic Tags: #change, #destiny, #divineappointments, #faith, #horizon, #journey, #mission, #opportunities, #purpose, #steps
Posting Tags: #artist, #christian, #creativewriting, #instawrite, #poems, #poetry, #poetsofinstagram, #poetryisnotdead, #poetrycommunity, #poetryinmotion, #spilledink, #spokenword, #typewriter, #videos, #wordsmith, #writing, #writinglife, #writerscommunity, #writerscorner, #writersofinstagram,

A journey of mission and opportunity poetry

So Often

16.02.2014 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

So often
We see the past,
Nostalgic dreams,
Rose's thorns,
Tint memories' eyes
Colluding, enveloping thoughts,
Until timelines change
And living yesterday captures
Today.

Fake experiences
Strangle tomorrow's hope,
Patterned life abnormal normal,
Arteries clogged- hardened.

Changes?
Something new?
Challenged?

Starting Thoughts: Do our memories of the past enrich our present and future or slowly strangle them? How do we cope with the problems, sins and fears that keep dragging us back?
Poem Topic Tags: #change, #experiences, #future, #life, #memories, #nostalgia, #past, #seeker,
Posting Tags: #artist, #christian, #creativewriting, #instawrite, #poems, #poetry, #poetsofinstagram, #poetryisnotdead, #poetrycommunity, #poetryinmotion, #spilledink, #spokenword, #typewriter, #videos, #wordsmith, #writing, #writinglife, #writerscommunity, #writerscorner, #writersofinstagram,

How do our memories and experiences of the past influence our present and future. Poem - Spoken word

Tags: memories, past, forgiveness, sin, change

God to Earth

14.12.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

Was the plan
to be incognito?
Only a few to know
of the baby
Heaven's anticipated arrival,
Born in a manger
Earth of earth smells.

But maybe the angels
Communicating at the speed of light
knowing the power
felt God's word at work,
"Shall we see what's going on?"
and followed the messenger angel,
from heaven's dimension.

And above night shrouded hills
they heard the words
spoken to amazed shepherds
"And you will find a baby.."
The Angel xfactors
couldn't contain worship
Bursting into human sight,
Unsuppressed singing surged
cosmic deep
sheer Joy ,
"Glory to God, peace on Earth"

Did God laugh and shake His head,
Those angels
couldn't keep anything quiet,
So much for the
laid-back birth plan,
No hushed start for God's
human shaped love.

God smiled,
“Shh… angels, don’t
wake the baby!”
The winged choir returned
sheepish.

Starting Thoughts: It hit me in a service - I wonder how the angels got to to be there and sing when they appeared to the shepherds? Do angels have agency apart from God ?- I think yes!

Tags: christmas, jesus, baby, shepherds, birth

Life's Edges

22.09.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word |Seeker Written by: W Grieve

Box trapped
Straitjacket message from hell
Walls surround,
Dark gnawing at
edges of life.

Whether I walk
the streets
Or few metres to cell bars
I am in prison,
Forever blackness,
Somehow worse, exposed
in sunlight or florescent tubes,
So dry, no tears only anger
So buried, no hope only pain,

I can't do broken alone,
Where do my thoughts leak?
Who else can know my thoughts?

Starting Thoughts: Sometimes the walls in life seem so bleak and closed in we are close to what we think prison might be like, but know this is really unreality. There are other choices.
Poem Topic Tags: #anger, #box, #broken, #decision, #hope, #pain, #prison, #reality, #seeker, #thoughts, #reallife, #trapped
Posting Tags: #artist, #christian, #creativewriting, #instawrite, #poems, #poetry, #poetsofinstagram, #poetryisnotdead, #poetrycommunity, #poetryinmotion, #spilledink, #spokenword, #typewriter, #videos, #wordsmith, #writing, #writinglife, #writerscommunity, #writerscorner, #writersofinstagram,

Sometimes we feel in prison and unreal reality, poem and spoken word

Tags: box, prison, passion, reallife, pain

Colour Culture Tapestry

16.06.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

What colour in your room?
We have the understated kiwi dark
That blends with the bush
The reds, yellows and blues
of Romania,
Greens
Gold and purple
from Pakistan
Vibrant colours of Malaysia, Singapore,
Korea, Fiji
From Africa, America, Nepal, German
the brothers, sisters
have travelled
To N.Z.
The ends of the earth.
To share stories and life
Flowing threads of culture together
Scottish, Maori, Japanese, British
All joined, called by one love, one Christ
One hope,
Expressed in many voices.
Once all immigrants
to this land,
Once all immigrants
to God’s kingdom,
Now the stories, the yarns
have been woven together
in His love.
A tapestry of
The Christ of the cross
The Christ risen
The Christ who calls his people.

Prompt
Celebrate the mix of cultures that make up the wonderful tapestry of woven colour in our churches.

The Story

09.06.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

Free to Take
shared lovingly
elements of wine and bread.

The first
Promise signed
by blood and body,
followed by
Freedom's proclamation
in death's defeat,
A beautiful Love poured
into a dot circling
within universe expanses,
The Crown of Pain
history written,
and Generation’s of
changed human story
told in transformed lives.
Are you Open
To hope's story,
To time's truth
written waiting
in your heart,
To intertwined threads
connecting your spirit
to eternal, perfect love?

Free to take
Yet costly change.

What is your story
in this place?

Starting Thoughts: Communion is a special time as we replay, reenact a special moment that Jesus had with the disciples. They did not see clearly, see the future which should be always the way we approach the table also.
Poem Topic Tags: #communion, #cost, #cross, #easter, #freedom, #hope, #jesus, #love, #praise, #promises, #transformation
Posting Tags: #artist, #christian, #creativewriting, #instawrite, #poems, #poetry, #poetsofinstagram, #poetryisnotdead, #poetrycommunity, #poetryinmotion, #spilledink, #spokenword, #typewriter, #videos, #wordsmith, #writing, #writinglife, #writerscommunity, #writerscorner, #writersofinstagram,

Love of Jesus expressed through communion Easter poetry

Dance the Diabolical

09.06.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

The monkey
curls charlatan cute
posed on your shoulder,
porn paws
wrapped in your hair,
appetite growing,
you feed furred desire
screen-bound
whore-hound,
brain disconnecting
relationships dopamine
rewired,
fantasies edged;
morphing
a gorilla grows
draping your shoulders,
scalp pain
as he excitedly
twists your
skin-clad
skull-head.

And you undress
with a not-me click,
the skeleton
of child kidnapped,
stripping innocence,
naked lust
peels pimped life
to the marrow,
you entertainment-click
sado share
toxic abuse,
you grope for
hard-core.

You dance the diabolical.

Watching aroused
this dressed-up world,
Trapped in your
indifferent-hate
self-hate
life-hate,
addicted-hate,
the screen
reflecting your
gorilla red-eyes,
desensitised
not realised.

Not me
you lonely think,
cynically patting
the cute monkey
shoulder perched
score searched...

Dance the diabolical.

Christian Poetry with a Message about Pornography

More info: 15 Reasons , Telegraph - the scary, slaves that work for me

Tags: pornography, sex, issues, slavery

God @ Lifetube

09.06.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

If God was
a YouTube channel
Internet sensation
Unseen
posting content-
But, like weird!

Humour mixed
with life stories
Music intertwined
with silent movies.
Long moments
and short truths,
No screen rants
No self promotion
Just movies that appear
to challenge
the core of who
you are,
Other video celebrations
of pure fun,
belly laughs,
Deeply breathed hope.

Would you like?
Would you subscribe?
Who makes money?
Annoying ads still there?
Would you share?
Would you embed?

Chestnut Fun

04.05.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word |Pupils Written by: W Grieve

Success Criteria: Poem written in Diamante form, high level choice of words used, captures the experience in words, designed with picture using great DTP techniques and skill.

Inspired by Extreme Poetry resource (131+ pages of poetry tips and ideas). Click to view and gain access to great poetry forms, lessons and activities.

6:30 AM Refugee

04.05.2013 Filed in: Story |Seeker | Written by: W Grieve

A 6:30 am refugee from our warm kitchen, I was thinking about how invisible blocks in the mind can stop you from trying something new. I had just emerged from the changing shed into the dark, having decided to give the outside fifty metre pool a try instead of the usual twenty five metre that I swam. As I walked across the tiles, I looked for a place that was open enough to view from the pool, to place my gear bag there. The signs around Jellie Park warned you about thieves although I thought thieves wouldn't be good at getting up this early for physical exercise.

The chlorine from the pool was rising in mist off the surface, mixing in the darkness and floating towards my nose. I then assessed the lanes for one that wasn't too crowded and didn't have someone who was a powerful swimmer who would want to keep passing me. The plastic red and white discs of the lane seperaters dipped from the edge and lead off down both sides into the dimness of the middle lane, the one I had chosen.

I imagined that this pool would be colder than the inside pools but I decided not to think too much about it. Pulling on the rubbery headgear, I fastened my googles with a slap of water from the pool to help seal them, to my face. I dived cleanly into the water.

The cool water crisped up my skin as I free-styled the first twenty. The outside pool was certainly different I discovered as I cleaved through swirling mixes of chilly water and then warmer threads. As I settled into the rhythm of the swimming lane I learned that the mental block I had about the pool was only a minor eddy in the whirlpool of life. The fifty metre was great. The tower lights dappled the bottom of the pool in patterns, you don't have to turn direction so often and it was much quieter than the inside pool, just the tempo sounds of my inhaling, fingertips hitting the water and exhaling underwater.

Half-way through the swim I said a cheery good morning to the hawk on the metal ladder tower who was huddled in her red and black jacket against the chilled air. The sunrise was creeping up behind her back and across the silhouette of the pool buildings and starting to hit the tops of the trees around the pool. The light patterns on the pool floor through my googles were even more interesting. Just the thing I like on a long swim, a few thoughts floating through the depths in my mind, but nothing serious.

As I picked up my bag and looked back at the pool the sunrise was hardening a line of light halfway down the trees and the water was gaining blue colour in response. Two kilometres of exercise finished and a new experience started, not world shattering but I gratefully decided that the fifty metre was good times that would be repeated.

[Success Criteria: In this recount writing we tried to use the five senses and some similes. We focused on telling a story, and slowing down the action. Some of us tried to use good sound words also.]

Tags: swimming, pupils, fitness, recount, pov

drowning_story_water_sea_child_recount_literacy

Walk the Plank

04.05.2013 Filed in: Story |Seeker | Written by: W Grieve

The clear blue sky had no hint of the blackness I would discover later as I clambered down the rocky path from the cliff-top to Pirate’s Bay in Dunedin. Behind me, my brother and sister had struggled to keep up and my parents who carried a picnic basket. On the beach and behind tussock covered sand-dunes were bunches of other families already enjoying the waves and sun drenched sand.
We unpacked our basket, spread out the rug and Mum and Dad started getting lunch ready. My brother and I grabbed our new inflatable beach-ball and eagerly ran over the last of the dunes onto the beach.
We started our epic brother battle with a game of force-back. We each tried to throw over the top of the other so they were forced back until they either stepped back too far or we were able to throw the ball past a certain point. As always I had the upper hand, maybe something to do with being older!
Suddenly, as I threw the light multicoloured ball, the wind picked it up and the next second on inflatable ball was floating in the gentle shore waves.
“Go and get it.” Graeme yelled at me.
I replied with a casual, “No. I threw, you fetch.”
“It wasn’t fair,” he moaned, referring to the wind.
“Just ‘cause I’m winning, you have to get it.” I countered.
Meanwhile the ball, delighted at its new found freedom and assisted by its friends the waves and wind, took an escape route to the sea.
“Get it,” I yelled at him, “before it gets out too far.” I was getting nervous as I was supposed to be the responsible older brother. He just refused and so I decided I better get our new ball back.
I shot down to the sea edge, splashed over the shallow waves and up to my knees. I pushed through the growing waves towards the ball. I remember thinking that I wasn’t too far from it when I found out a nasty surprise. The sand was no longer under my feet. The bottom was gone. The beach suddenly shelved into deeper water and down I plummeted.
I can still feel the panic that gripped me, the bands of pressure that started to burn in my lungs as I tried to claw my way back to the surface. Maybe the lady had seen me go under or saw my hand briefly break the surface but she stopped what she was doing and plunged in without hesitating to save me. She too discovered to her cost that the beach shelved and that this is not very good when you can’t swim, just like me.
I remember looking up through the sun beams in the water and thinking the top was too far away. Bubbles from my lungs were flowing up. It was a weird peaceful yet panicking feeling, a sweet and sour nightmare.
Unexpectedly, a strong hand seized my arm and I was first pulled from the water and then into the safe arms of a man. I don’t really remember him carrying me back to the beach, I do remember retching and throwing up seawater onto the beach as concerned people stood around. I can’t even say if I thanked them for helping me but I do have a vague memory of the lady, they pulled out with me, lying nearby.
My brother helped me on my wobbly legs back towards the dunes where Mum and Dad were and we were not at the beach much longer that day.
Someone must have told them what happened because not long after we had a whole series of swimming lessons. The bigger mystery is what happened to the ball. I like to imagine that it washed up on a beach in Japan somewhere or got pierced by a narwhale but then I have been told I am a bit of a dreamer. Certainly, I had some dreams about water surrounding and bullying me for quite a while.

Success Criteria for this recount: Follow recount form, use five senses, improve words with thesaurus and use similes.

Tags: swimming, pupils, drowning, recount, pov

Couch Potatoe

04.05.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word |Pupils Written by: W Grieve

Excuse my squashed writing
For I am writing this poem
From inside a couch,
Just yesterday, I fell asleep in the sun
Streaming hot through the window
And I slipped through the cushion gap
To join the lost coins, gathered dust
and dried food crumbs.
I hear the outside world
muffled by leather and foam
I'm interior, you're exterior
I hope you can read this note I slipped out.
For I'm squish writing this poem
From inside a couch.

We read, "It's Dark in Here" a poem by Shel Silverstein to inspire us in our "point of view" poetry.... The boys followed this model closely and then with larger variations as they produced two pieces to reflect how writers have a point of view. The montages were produced with creative commons images using layering, masking and montage techniques with Pages on their macBooks.

WALT:
To communicate experiences, with descriptive language, so that others can feel they are there.

Success Criteria:

Write about the topic from different points-of-view
To write in a poetry style that has been given.
Focus on strong adjectives
Use commas to set the rhythm of the poem
Short interesting thoughts, one per line
Unnecessary and small words cut out.
To design a montage to match your poem using layering, masking and alpha tools.

Inspired by Extreme Poetry resource (131+ pages of poetry tips and ideas). Click to view and gain access to great poetry forms, lessons and activities.

ancient_egypt_civilisations_poetry_children_contrasts

Stolen Security

04.05.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word |Pupils Written by: W Grieve

Once I eternally slept
nightmare tossing,
dark traps sprung,
death tonnes of pyramid granite
fell on tunnelling robbers.

I silently laughed
but they relentlessly came
for my riches.

I am
Mighty Pharaoh
Army surrounding,
protecting me,
Servants entombed alongside
ready for my royal decree.

As robbers break
last barriers
I command;
Disconnected
Failed
None responds
My wealth plundered with
pitch tar torches
and scrabbling fingers,
Even my face
lifted in triumph
Gone...
Stolen security.

Dreams now
wrapped
dry warmth again,
Sensing walls once more
Prying touching fingers,
Unknown words
painted on walls around,
crude, not like the picture words
that gracefully adorn my bandages,
A tomb solid
but disgracefully invisible
like an empty soul window,
They tap on my walls
but so close to touching me
they turn back.
I laugh,
The God's smile.

I am stolen
yet slumber in hushed security.

This was written following a visit to an Ancient Egyptians exhibition in a museum. We looked at the sarcophagus with an x-ray beside it of the ancient mummy.

WALT:
To communicate experiences, with descriptive language, so that others can feel they are there.

Success Criteria:

Write about the topic from different points-of-view
Focus on strong adjectives
Use a wide range of contrasts in the poem
Use commas to set the rhythm of the poem
Short interesting thoughts, one per line
Unnecessary and small words cut out.

Inspired by Extreme Poetry resource (131+ pages of poetry tips and ideas). Click to view and gain access to great poetry forms, lessons and activities.

Hole in the Side

07.04.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

He could of come alive
with a new body.

As Incredible power burned death,
Universe fabric was turned,
Chaos reconstructed
into new realms of infinity.
Jesus rose, alive.

But his love
Is such
That his body is still scarred
Perfect love
with the scars of pain,
holes of suffering.

Not a good look.

But does God care
about the outward,
about being the fashion,
the image, the thin fake?
In pouring out his soul
God's love knows you
The real depths of you
inside hidden thoughts,
cloaked habits.

Put your hand in the wound
The amazing scar and see,
Touch.
Respond to this love,
Reality.

Call like Thomas,
"My Lord, my God"
Call like Thomas,
"My Lord, my God"
Discover His passion.

Tags: doubt, cross, thomas, resurrection, life

dapples_light_poem_poetry_children_topic

Light my Life

04.04.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Seeker | |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

Dapples
flicker leaf sheets
wind blown branches
dance shadows on the grass

Torch
reflecting light on words
book hidden under
the sheet with me
reading
late night
parents asleep

Darkness
stolen centimetre
by centimetre
Sunrise.

Hot sun
through Sunday afternoon window
Head nodding
eyes drooping
warm sleep.

WALT:
To communicate experiences, with descriptive language, so that others can feel they are there.

Success Criteria:

Write about the topic from different points-of-view
Focus on strong adjectives
Use a wide range of contrasts in the poem
Use commas to set the rhythm of the poem
Short interesting thoughts, one per line
Unnecessary and small words cut out.

Inspired by Extreme Poetry resource (131+ pages of poetry tips and ideas). Click to view and gain access to great poetry forms, lessons and activities.

Bush Fringe

02.04.2013 Filed in: Poetry |Seeker |Pupils |Spoken Word |Video Written by: W Grieve

Written 2013. Living Springs Camping site. Christchurch. Love our bush close to cities. High Resolution Version

Inspired by Extreme Poetry resource (131+ pages of poetry tips and ideas). Click to view and gain access to great poetry forms, lessons and activities.

Tags: bush, pupils, memory, life, memories

Christmas

02.12.2012 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

Santa in last years white beard smells
Coloured lights hang
Twinkles and patterns of
Community art,
Mall packed shopping
Endless Snoopy melodies,
Behind the retail assistant smiles
voids and hopes,
A time of year
emotions under the microscope,
Extremes magnified,
Hope and loss
gathered friends, holes of loneliness
Life and death
Stuffed stretched stomach,
credit card strangle.

And we live this commercial crazy time,
In the trapped moments,
Yet hoping for freedom fun released,

We are
Part of eternities entwined story
A birth, a baby, an adult, a forever love,
a God's plan.

Poem Tags
#baby, #child, #christian, #christmas, #cross, #hope, #jesus, #love, #poems, #poetry, #reallife, #santa, #seeker, #spokenword, #videos, #xmas
Prompt
Christmas intertwines pain, hope and a baby.

Tags: christmas, xmas, hope, jesus, love

Can I?

30.09.2012 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word |Seeker Written by: W Grieve

Can I
Have someone
see deep?
me,
The hidden real
The faked real?

Chameleon - thousand shades
Camouflage dirt
Concealing pain
Capable indifference
Covering smiles
Cracked mirror.

Mindside
I silent inner scream,
Sacrificed life
for inner dark uncomfortable.
Hidden life
in the midst of many.

Where can I trust?
Where can I belong?
Where can I sing?
Where can I be?

Prompt
Where can we turn? Who can we trust? What do we try to hide?
Poem Tags
#chameleon, #christian, #fake, #identity, #life, #poems, #poetry, #seeker, #spokenword,

Can I explores identity through Christian poetry video

God's Love

28.07.2012 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

God's love
The shell discovered
on the beach
Now lying on a bench,
the floor,
Waiting on a couch,
Sitting on a shelf.

You
lift curved
spirals to your ear,
Hear
the call
Deep to deep,
A pull larger
than your self.

In your heart,
a sequence starts,
Insistent whispers
Universes of power

Love
helical expanses
Stronger than your pain
Deeper than life here,
An eternity
Compels, invites
Your response.

Gods love.

Tags: love, beach, shell, power, deep

Released

22.07.2012 Filed in: Poetry |Christian |Video |Spoken Word Written by: W Grieve

Desert suns
sear the future,
Too hot
life stands on shifting sands
Too sharp
heat binds the lungs,
Yet a coldness somehow
cloys the heart,
Where can I be that life is found?
How will I do more than survive?

A mirage shimmers
Life just seems fake.

Cracked lips
cry out ,
"Where are you God?"

In faith
seeing nothing
I stumble another step
I scrabble over
endless tops,
the next sand ridge
pours through
my sun seared encrusted fingers
and another image appears
is the real - fake
or the fake - real?

I stumble, sliding
down rivers of sand time
towards the green,
metamorphosing tree outlines,
an oasis,
a whole world's tip
like an iceberg of life
from underneath
this scorched world I am in.

How did I not know
God was in the desert?
A deep pool, cool, powerful life
Underground
There all the time
Water, bubbling, gushing
Extreme.

Through eyes half blind
I see water flowing to the surface,
singing to my soul,
Surrounding, penetrating
so real,
green life afresh.

A call
to drink deep,
to know an intimacy
of Christ in me,
A depth of love.
Refreshed.
Released.

Tags: dry, spirit, desert, water, time

Matrix Moments

Media Moments: Question, reflect, connect

Privacy Settings

Such a Time

So Often

God to Earth

Life's Edges

Colour Culture Tapestry

The Story

Dance the Diabolical

God @ Lifetube

Chestnut Fun

6:30 AM Refugee

Walk the Plank

Couch Potatoe

Stolen Security

Hole in the Side

Light my Life

Bush Fringe

Christmas

Can I?

God's Love

Released