Earth

The body of Adam was formed from clay,

All our bodies return earthward after death’s day,

But till that day, from our very birth,

We’re bundles of earth walking on earth.

– eab, 12/15/06

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Participants?

Earth is the only place of entertainment.

 

 

 

All will be participants in both

 

 

 

Heaven  AND  hell.

– eab, 7/8/11

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Earth? Eternity!

Many are worried about

their child’s earth future,

and care nothing about

their eternal future.

– eab, 11/10/10

– eab, 11/10/10 

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Spring

Here and there on branches bare,

A cocoon earthward swings,

Waiting, a month or two, to be a zoo,

Of six-legged flying things.

 

Earth is so pleased to end the freeze,

It’s bursting up with joy.

And down the street, with peddling feet,

Rides a six-year boy. ^[1]     -eab,  4/1971

---

^[1] Andrew in the first grade, riding his new red bike bought by Granddaddy and Grandmother Scarbrough. Written in Paris, OH.

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He Made

He made the tree on which He hung;

The earth to which it lately clung.

When innocent, it raised leafy arms,

While robins among them lived and sung.

 

He made the ore from which, by craft,

With forge white-hot and windy draft,

The town blacksmith sledged, with sinewed arms,

Long nails; innocent of greed or graft.

 

He made the sponge, carelessly raised,

Knew the near pool where it had “grazed,”

Commanding food with tiny arms,

Before beaching innocent and dazed.

 

He made the sources, rich in ink,

Where artist oft gave his pen drink,

Scrolling with careful, innocent arms:

“The King of the Jews,” making folks think.

 

He made the men, that unmade Him.

Knew their thoughts, goals, and every whim.

And as they nailed holy feet and arms,

Heaven’s innocence He prayed on them. -eab, fall ‘82

 

written in Friendsville, Tennessee

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Be Dead

Be dead to yourself and to your kind,

Be dead to this place called earth.

Be dead to its drink and food so fine,

Be dead to its sorrows and mirth.

Be dead to earth’s banks with their borrowed loans,

Be dead to the flash of gold.

Be dead to the wide range of entertainment,

Be dead to its tales, thrice told.

Be dead to big houses and lands, yea dead to tents as well.

Be dead to the call of fleshly sins, as Adam and Eve once fell.

Be dead to the titles of “doctor” and “sir,”

Be dead to awards from the rich.

Be dead to the pride such allurements bestir,

Be dead to their wild sale’s pitch.

And when you have died – “died out” to it all,

Died out to the crest and the trough,

Died out to fame’s loss – to its rise and fall,

Died out to all touched by moth,

Know that truth still lives and reigns,

Over all that men know false and fake,

And do all you do,

When out-of-view;

Do it all for Jesus’ sake. -eab, 12/2/07

 

 

Written at Westfield,Indiana

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