Poems about My God

By John Schmidt

Here are a number of my poems. Hope you enjoy them, and are in some way uplifted.

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Poems about My God

Meet

dancing toes, meet concrete

hose water, meet hot air

mothers, meet porch steps

water cold, meet hot flesh

ecstatic screams, meet background honks

bathing suits, meet body forms

swirling hair, meet open space

open eyes, meet life

Delight of Dawn

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

Let all our concerns

fall like dewdrops

from soft flowers.

Let us delight

more in Your sun

than our earth.

Let us be filled

with the energy

of the universe.

For in Your eyes

is the eternity

of all blessings.

From Your lips,

the words of all power.

In Your hands

is a hug

that takes us home.

Jesus, I love You.

Night Angel

“It’s not worth it.” In the dim light of the room

behind the cafe, the blond-haired boy cried.

And she listened, the vision in space that loomed

above dirty floor and faded T-shirt beside

the gun he did not use that night because

the inch of love she gave him kept him from it.

He was married with four children when he paused

long enough on his short couch to again sit

with old times, and the one night that would have

ended it. He did not pray often, but he

said a thank-you to the Powers That Be, glad

his children had a father who loved them. She

heard his prayer, though far away, above

one of his children, thanking God for fatherly love.

I Have Looked for You

I have looked for you in the eyes of children,

In the questioning grins of older ones, my

Lover’s quiet at passion’s end. And in

My work, my house, my car—everything I

Do and own. I have sought you in the space between

These things, when no children or older ones were around,

When work and possessions took a back seat

To air and flowers. And when she was gone. I found

Something of you there, but more like a foot-

print than a foot, more like a bird’s nest than the

Bird. I have sought you by seeking you, look-

ing while waiting for substance. But now I be-

lieve I will stop the search for presence, having felt

You most, always, through it all, in the search itself.

I sit

on a high

rise above

a mountain stream a bridge not far away to my right.

The air is clear,

the sky bathed in sun,

and I jump hands outstretched,

hitting the two feet of water flat, and death.

The mind is free to dissolve into the air it came from;

the emotions free to be water once again,

the body back to earth in time;

spirit back to the sun from which it came.

I bounce back up from the water and sit again,

having visited eternity, thus infinite imagination.

Morality

Something simple, like a moral life, to

Be sought after, enjoyed. Yes, enjoyed, for

Morality and harmony are far more

Closely linked than a casual review

Of causes would suggest. “Modern” and “new”

Do sound pleasure and sport to the ear, restored

To prominence by an endless stream of torrid

TV talk, selling multiplicity with few

Warning labels attached. Yet pleasure is

Older than discipline, for the latter took time

To learn. Millions of experiences without

The leadership of wisdom were found to miss

The mark of peace and hit pain. Thus often I remind

Myself of that moral life what life’s about.

both hands

are tied

until they clasp

(in prayer)

hand can only be filled

when it is first emptied

Central

Center me, Lord, in your love. Seems there is no end

To dangers, frustrations and trials—even a rain

Storm can upset my evening’s work. So when

I need you, be there. Let my good times remain

My main attention no matter what occurs,

Let my peace in your friendship walk with me

In every step, let my strength be light in your

Love. These are small requests, but we can all see

How the small leads the all. One thought sends my

Body’s numberless atoms in a walk across

The room, one center sun gives abundant life

To a vast solar system, a rugged cross

On a hill has brought hope to a world. My small

Is at peace when I connect in love to your all.

Abbreviated

I’m

an abbreviated

I Am

(hug me)

yesterday cloudy

today sunny

same tree, roof

the infinitesimal

yet infinite

distinction between consciousness

and being given consciousness

no man

is an island

unto God

Rather

I would rather

be a sun-filled

rose of light that

only angels see,

than a worldly

root

that

har-

bors

love

but

self

yet has

the earth

in its

grip

a thousand streams

rushing toward ocean,

ocean laughs

Love Made Me Do That

Probably love made me do that. If you look at

My life and see something halfway better

Than decent, probably love made me do that.

And I really can’t see a cause fitter.

I mean, reason’s always got its own ways

To stir us into motion, but love’s got ’em

Too. You can stand a man at a cliff and say,

“Don’t fall,” and reason will keep him from the bottom.

But it’s love that will lead him to admire the fall,

The bushes below, the distant hills, the clouds.

Reason’s strong, but the more I think about why God

Made all this, I think it’s a toss-up, how

God could have thought long and hard about Earth to be,

But if you asked Him today He’d say, “Love made me.”

It Touches You Deeply

It touches you deeply, the cool fascination

Of water. Of senses. Of all sensed by them. And

You dream on, as if alive, down the stream, demand-

ing only continuance, drowning objections

Before they surface, sure that you are the one

Who feeds the stream. Down, around, turn, and land.

You rest up. The stream rages back up. Your hands

Are shaking. You find a warm spot and lie on

Fine rocks. You fall asleep, not out of will,

But a deep desire to pay back the water for what

It gave you: nothing. That nothing you would, and it seems,

Will die for. That nothing that fills your being till

You wake and re-enter the water. It is sought

As you dream on, as if alive, down the stream.

Dunes

They will not destroy me by mountain.

I scale cliffs, pass crevasses a mile deep.

But by sand, by hill after hill of sand.

Sand in my shoes, in my mouth.

Every hill of sand I cross over,

another presents itself.

Until at last I see an oasis;

I run to it, immerse my face

and drink.

I lie by the pool of water.

Maybe I should have saved my

canteen’s hot water.

What if this water is poisoned?

Better to feel the stomach cramps

than be where I was.

I may never leave here anyway.

For two days I am here.

I see a caravan coming. I hide

in trees and bushes until night. I

leave the oasis and spend the

night in the sand.

I listen to their animals. What

would they do to me?

In the morning I sit behind a dune

and watch them and their tents.

One of them is walking my way.

I do not hide. He sees me.

He comes up to me in his robed

garment and headdress,

and plops by me, on the sand, long

accustomed to sitting on sand.

Mentally he tells me they

have been told to expect a Teacher.

I say, “Peace.”

He says something, a sentence or two,

in his language.

I speak back in his language,

though I have never spoken

it before.

He seems satisfied. He understands.

I say, “I am lost, but I am found.”

That is to mean, though I

be lost in the desert, it has no meaning.

If a thousand

hills of sand may stretch

before me in one direction,

I have found in me

my spiritual home.

And I am peace.

My Own Way

It’s a sad song with a happy ending,

a childhood wrapped in misery,

Mama was a woman “out-of-it”

and Papa a man I seldom did see.

They’ll do better next time,

in some other day;

I won’t have to be their son—

I’ve gone my own way.

In a house so poor it was sold for scrap,

In a town where your face

was just another billboard sign

and what you wanted most was new space.

They’ll do better next time,

in some other day;

I won’t have to be their man—

I’ve gone my own way.

I moved around for many years

with all that “stuff” still inside—

the tears I caused was just

because I was tryin’ to hide.

He was a priest on a walk

tellin’ small boys not to throw rocks,

and the peace I saw in his smile

was a key to what I would unlock.

They’ll do better next time,

in some other day;

I won’t have to be their old man—

I’ve gone my own way.

I sat down on my bed

and cried as I hung my head;

and that day forgave Mama and Papa

and myself for the rocks in my head.

I never saw that priest again

or Mama or Papa or the street kids,

but I saw in me a new man

who never again had somethin’ hid.

They will do better next time,

in some other day;

I won’t have to be their son—

I’m in a new way.

They’ll do better next time;

they’ll be street kids lookin’ for a dime.

I won’t have to be anybody’s son;

I’ve gone my own way.

Sail forth

on the boat Mercy

and the first wave back

to your island

will be mercy

and the second love

and the third peace

glass cannot know itself

until it

allows liquid to fill it

What’s More Important after All?

A matter of what’s more important after all,

Is what I’d call it. We’ve seen the rich and poor

Come out of here—same way, feet first or

In a brass container. Only one that I can recall

Ever came out alive. So I’d say to y’-all

That it’s in the livin’ an’ givin’ you’ll score

Your gains, not so much in accumulation of more

An’ more stuff year after year. That’s what I’d call

Missin’ it. One fellow I remember, Jason,

Died with only about enough to bury

Himself, but in life, if it didn’t take some

Money, he’d do it for you—whatever it was. We

Counted over a hundred at his service—

Not countin’ kin—every one done some kindness.

New Peace

Peace be to you who have had your limbs torn from

You, like so many limbs taken from a tree.

I would put you back together if I could, but for me

To take tree limbs and nail or rope even some

Of them back on, the tree would look strange. Come,

Let us forget limbs and storms and be

As a tree that lets lie what’s fallen beneath

Him, that says in his silent way, “What’s been done

Is done, and I’ll take back in time what was

Once mine and make a stronger me.” Peace then,

To all souls with lost limbs. Let morning light touch

Your leaves, and let the storm’s waters flow in

Your roots; come back to peace though tears, which like dew

Evaporate into the heaven beyond you.