The Word | A Poem


The Word

Always there ready to give
Without it we could not live
We reach for it when we are sad
We should reach for it when we are mad
It is near where we lay our head
In it some words are red
We read those words the most
They talk about the Holy Ghost
It sits upon the shelf
To understand we deny self
The words inside are soothing
They get our hearts moving
The poetry brings peace
It helps our sorrows to cease
The admonishments are clear as day
They help guide us on our way
The stories of soldiers brave
Hundreds of loaves and fishes gave
Demons and spirits removed and banished
After His death he vanished
But He reappeared and told us it was waived
Because of Him we are saved


Little Children | A Poem

G with Christmas toy

Little Children

Let the children come to me
That was the decree
The greatest in the Kingdom is these
They hold the keys
Give to them to drink and I will remember
Rewards to you I will render
If you hurt them, a stone it’s said
Is better tied around your head
Than to be caught teaching lies
He always hears their cries


I wrote this quite a while back, but have decided to share it today.

You have to dip your cup.



Milk and Honey Floweth

Though milk and honey floweth
You still need to use a cup
Milk pours out your hands
When you try to pick it up
It won’t flow to your mouth
With no effort on your part
You have to dip your cup
This is how you start
Go down to the river
Wear your robe and crown
Don’t attempt to drink it all
Go slow or you might drown
Draw enough to fill your cup
God gave you the right size
There is no need to moan or complain
You have received your prize
You’ve been given what you needed
To make it through each week
You’re not lacking much at all
You’ve been given what you seek


Today’s NaBloPoMo prompt from BlogHer is to “Tell us about one time that you benefitted from the kindness of strangers.” This poem is an example of that. I had a thought and I tried to put it into a poem. A lady that belonged to a Christian message board that I used to frequent, helped me smooth it out, her name was Belinda van Rensburg.

Thank You for Your Love

sun breaking through, sunlight, water tower, evening

  Thank You for Your Love

Ancient words written by strangers
Have proven true yet again
Before I cried you heard
Before I cried you caught my tears
You moved mountains and people
You changed the winds to fill my sails
Taking me from the storm
As I land on the shore
I cry tears of thankfulness
Gratitude is too small a word
There has not been a word uttered
To describe the easing in my soul
You were faithful when I doubted
And You loved me when I strayed
You showed me the package mercy comes in
And unwrapped lovingkindness in my sight
Thank you Lord for your patience and love


I wrote this poem after I snapped out of my postpartum depression. I went about 6 months without writing a poem, which is the longest I have ever gone since I was in High School.

What the Saviour Said

moss covered head stone, lichen tombstone, grave


Let the Dead Bury the Dead

“Follow me and let the dead bury the dead.”

That is what the Saviour said

Worry not about yesterday

He has made a new way

Your needs are seen and met

About your worries forget

Stop practicing the old ritual

He has brought renewal

Leave old spirituality behind

Peace in Him you will find


This Test

storm, storms, clouds, rain, rain falling from clouds

This Test


Been pushed to my knees and can’t get up

Please pray with me while I drink from this cup

The weight is so much, the pressure so heavy

Please God, break the levy

I’m down on my hands and knees

Will I ever cross these stormy seas

This test has gone on for so long

Lord what have I done wrong


I know this poem is short, but it felt finished. I don’t think poems that are two pages long are better than poems that are only 12 lines long. It is what is in the poem. This poem is about a feeling that we often feel for a moment, an hour, a day. I thought forcing myself to stretch it longer for the sake of it being long would have been a disservice to the poem.

Death and Publishing

graveyard, headstones, cemetary, morning light



All my charming murderers

know that they are smart

They know that I am less

Maybe the next time

I am murdered

I will finally get it

This poem was written as a response to #ntitle 217 prompt from Twitter. I am going to share all of my religious/spiritual/Jesus/Christian poems that no one seems to be brave enough to publish in their journals or reviews. And yes I have tried Christian reviews but they seem to want really long poems or poems that are “edgy Christian poetry.” I sent them some poems that I thought were pushing boundaries while asking relevant questions; they did not get published. I also think that most reviews are looking for poets that have already been published elsewhere and/or have a degree in writing. In their submission guidelines they will say there are looking for fresh new writers, but I notice they publish those who have already been published.

Adam’s Helper

Adam’s helper, Adam’s mate
You could not resist your fate
A hand held out holding sin
A helper you should have been
A helper to remind of God’s Word
You acted like you hadn’t heard
You led him astray, you told him wrong
Now we weep in song
Bone of his bones, first life of living
In pain now we are giving
That was why He came to die
It was Jesus they did crucify
He was lifted for the sin of man
As well as woman
©Symanntha Renn

A holy place where I can be honest.


At the Altar

My heavy head lies on my arms

Tears stream down my hands

And pool on the glossy wood

I know I will have a red spot

On my forehead when I rise

But I cannot lift my head

It is too heavy with sadness

I have failed yet again

I was angry, jealous and selfish

But humility worked its way in

After conviction put a crack in the door

I am embarrassed to be here

But so thankful that I have a place

To fall to my knees in surrender

To have a holy place where I can be honest

Where I can start over

I take a deep breath and finish praying

Making a commitment to God

I will not be back here again

But in making that promise

God knows He has more work to do

Because He does not need us to be

Feeling accomplished and complacent

He wants us to be in a state of urgency

Running and hurrying to advance His work

Before the trumpet sounds

He wants us to know

The power that sin has

That people do stupid things

In times of weakness

So in bringing a hurting heart here

In laying down my sins and presumptions

I am picking up a piece of holiness



At or in what holy place do you most feel the presence of God?

Senryu on its knees.

lit candle, flame, light in the darkness

we pray on our knees
for ourselves but not the set
of knees beside us

How often do you pray for the person that sits beside you at work? How often do you pray for the people in your pew? How often do you stop to wonder if the person riding the bus with you is facing struggles like the ones that you are facing? I think that, while I pray for various people every day, I need to verbally ask people about how they are and let them know that I am praying for them more often.

In thy long Paradise


In thy long Paradise of Light

No moment will there be

When I shall long for Earthly Play

And mortal Company –

Sometimes I just can’t wait to get to heaven, because I know it will be so great.

How to love your neighbor.

married, wedding rings

  Love Your Neighbor
you shall not murder
you shall not cheat on your wife
you shall not tell lies
how to love your neighbor
made plain, but we do not obey

Oftener through Realm of Briar

This week’s poem from Emily Dickinson is another short one. Remember I am posting my favorites and not her complete collection. See this post for why.




Far from Love the Heavenly Father

Leads the Chosen Child,

Oftener through Realm of Briar

Than the Meadow mild.


Oftener by the Claw of Dragon

Than the Hand of Friend

Guides the Little One predestined

To the Native Land.