Poetry

This little poem is offerred, in the spirit of being pro-choice – it is lovingly offered to those being denied the choice.  The choice of whether they want to live and breathe, to love and be loved.  The greatest moral tragedy unfolding in history is the legalized slaughter of our unborn babies.  To those silent cries, I dedicate this:

Who am I?

Who am I?
I am the one denied the dawn
the one without an embrace
The sun my skin will not warm
the rain won’t dance on my face

Who am I?
I am the weakest of them all
The one without a voice
My dreams destined to fall
My hopes hostage to “choice”

Who am I?
I am the one who will not be allowed
to smile at the moon, to frown at the cloud
Nobody gave me the benefit of the doubt
Nobody gave me the chance to shout
I am the one given no room
my life snuffed out….. from womb, to tomb

It could have been you, instead of me
Denied a voice, by some decree
It could have been you, instead of me
Never knowing what it is to be free.

photo credit:

I wrote this poem after I was scandalized by the number of illegal immigrants who needlessly drown every year trying to make the crossing of the Straits of Gibraltar into Spain, in search of a better future in Europe.

Another Body washed ashore.

Thousands die in a dark abyss
an ocean never satisfied
Driven by fear and hopes of bliss
no guidance from the qualified

They dream of a better tomorrow
they escape a ghoulish hell
An extra day they cannot borrow
another story they will not tell

A watery grave receives them
hordes of poor with hope deferred
When will we rise up and condemn
life discounted so absurd

How many more must die
how many more must perish
When will the rich ones try
their lives to save and cherish?

Enough tears of the orphan
enough of the widow’s mourn
I see their bodies often
floating lifeless ripped and torn

Thousands die in a dark abyss
no chance to have a dream
Something here is so amiss
for I no longer hear their scream.

The smooth clear rain,
Tapping on the road,
The nice clean rain,
Running down the lane,
If you want to know,
It goes down the drain.

Aaron Baw – Age 7 – (c) 2005

T’was a day like any other,
Divine light shone in my heart.
T’was the will of our Heavenly Father,
My foolish plans to pull apart.

For with a Love I could not understand,
Grace rescued this poor wretch.
With a stretched-out, merciful hand,
A long-lost soul did He fetch.

He lifted me up from the miry clay,
My sin-laden heart to clean.
Translated He me from the night to the day,
Forever His Truths to glean.

And why should I love him?
Why should I care?
Why should I serve Him?
And His Gospel share?

He changed my heart – a new man to be,
He rescued my soul – He died here for me.
So this is my motive – this much I can see,
That I do love Him – ‘Cos He first Loved me.

(c) – 2003 – John K. Baw

Thank you for loving and holding me near,
Life with you is so precious, my dear.

My love for you each day does rise,
It only takes a look from those dazzling green eyes.

Our home is a nest of love, life and toys,
Within it our treasure, God’s gift of two boys.

They will indeed grow,
In our bond of True Love.
They will one day know,
It all came from Above.

I cherish a treasure,
A distinct gem of choice.
Happiness beyond measure,
Does make me rejoice.

Thank you for caring, loving and more,
For you are the one, I have come to adore.

(c) – John Baw

If only I would behold, as in a glass
Your plan and your purpose coming to pass

If only I would catch a glimpse of Thee
My soul to take captive in bonds to be

If only I would feel the Highest’s embrace
My heart to melt in moments of Grace

If only I would answer this worthy call
An ideal so noble deserves my all

If only I would make my election sure
And walk in this Way of Life so Pure

If only I would receive your Love so deep
Bountiful treasures and joy to reap

If only I would today hear your Voice
And wait on you to make the right choice

If only I would shun this earthy life
The weight of sin, the pain of strife

If only I would burst into Eternity’s realm
By living my life with You at the helm

If only I would choose your way above my own
One day I would sit with You on your Throne.

(c) 2000 – John K. Baw

Love and hate – two worlds apart,
This jewel in the crown of an imperial heart.
From the waves of the Med. This land doth rise,
Promising peace within the reach of one’s eyes.

But instead of the joy of a biblical dawning,
One has to witness the death and the mourning.
Oh! Would man only yield his prideful heart,
To have grace and mercy impart.

For when man does for vengeance and violence cry,
Please consider the tear in the young orphan’s eye.

For years ago this land did proclaim,
To have seen a Love of a higher domain.
For when His arms were nailed stretched wide,
And that roman spear sank way deep inside-
The walls of separation He sent tumbling down,
The cries of hatred did he thus drown.

Oh! That this land would turn from war,
To witness true Love in its streets once more.
With arms open wide – and a father’s embrace,
Please God, wipe that tear from the young orphan’s face.

John Keith Baw

This world will try to move me
With promise of riches, fame and wealth
My flesh will try to woo me
With lures of pleasures, flattering stealth

For long ago in a distant land
Your blood was shed for me
Though deliverance was in your hand
A redeemer you chose to be

Consume me Lord, Possess my reins
That I may live for Thee
May your life, flow through my veins
A faithful Son to be

Fire and Cross let me not fear
That I may win Christ – In Him disappear

For in days to come, and ages to be
Your Kingdom will one day be true
Though now darkness and evil encompass me
I want to be sealed in you.

John Baw

A lonely sad face
As he sits in his place;
The years in his face are showing,
For in his eyes no hope is glowing.

One thing you perceive
From his impressive complexion,
Is the remarkable aura
Of thought and reflection.

The wrinkles in his skin
Are evidence of the time he has been;
For when he thinks he boosts his presence,
To me he portrays an image of essence.

Time is a thing that bothers him not,
For he sits and wastes all the time that he’s got.

And as he looks up to me with a glow,
A sure look of wisdom he does show.
In his eyes I see a secret,
A secret that we both only know. . .
That old as he might be to me,
That old too someday I’ll be.

(c) – 1991 – John Keith Baw