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Poetry
The Queen, The Angel, And The Scribe
By Rhonnie Besonday

Across a nation three lives meet,
Lives alike and yet unknown.
Strangers to each other,
Yet three women of faith.

One woman a Queen in power,
Another Angel in sorrow and pain.
The Scribe already across the abyss,
All hearts the same and sanctified.

Time passes as days go by,
Lives unfold across a screen.
Pasts all very much the same,
Futures all given by the Grace of God.

The Queen steps off her throne,
With the love of an Angel.
The Scribe prays constantly,
Knowing her prayers are heard.

Three strong willed women,
With heads hard as stone.
Sometimes battling each other,
Not knowing the battle is already won.
Horror and hurt flow in their words,
With more read between the lines.
Frustration and anger at the past,
God stepping in with an invisible hand.

Slowly the days turn into months,
As the friendships for them grow.
All three faces streaked with unseen tears,
When circumstances hurt any of the three.

All three lives different and yet the same,
Two a near perfect reflection of each other.
One the candle the other the mirror,
While the third watches and prays.

Their lives touched daily by the Hand of God,
Miracle after miracle provided for the three.
Triumphs shared with tears of joy,
Pains felt by the hearts of all three.

The Angel learns that unconditional love is real,
And the Queen is learning that the pasts bond can be broken.
The Scribe learns humility and the wonder of God,
All three faiths grow till they are unshakable.
Angry words are thrown at each other,
Simply out of frustration and fear.
Forgiveness is given freely by them,
With the grace given them by God.

Their lives so different and yet the same,
Braided together as a cord of three.
Alone all three would break under the strain,
Together God knows the strength of the three.

All three look at the pasts with eyes changing daily,
Beginning to understand their place in this life.
None know the answer as to the question why,
But a purpose shall come from it to all who read.

Others will learn of the pain they endured,
The devastation and sorrow their lives produced.
Triumph and joy when any of the three overcame,
Terrible things most cannot ever understand.

Each learning truths and wisdom from each other, As God shows them each their own mysteries.
Two close together and one from afar,
Lives that reflect their places on the map.

They each silently thank God for the lives of the others,
Knowing their strength is entwined with their number.
They each walk away just to return once again,
Lives separate but with hearts molded the same.

The journey grows shorter with each days Sunshine,
As the long endless nights are lit by the Stars.
All three fill life with faith, love, and prayers,
The Queen, the Angel, and the Scribe.
Copyright © 2004  Rhonnie Besonday

Poetry - Whispers of the Sea - Anonymous
You are a Beacon and I am a mirror.
You brighten the world with your light, yet most see only flames.
I show the world as it is, yet most see only themselves.
I can never touch the light, Read more...

Poetry - Clair180 By Nicholas Boldock
Almost like a virtual death
The passing of one faceless username
A collection of letters and numbers
Playing games on a flat screen universe
As if existing only in the imagination.
Notified by email, appropriately almost Read more...

Poetry - Or So I Would Imagine by C.Hutchcroft
Or so I would imagine:
The limitless toils of a brace
Of degenerate angels steeped in ecstasy
Coated thick with nascence and bid farewell together
In the deserts
Charting sand grains Read more...

Poetry - The Day I died By Benjamin Bourne
I rolled my eyes
Said my goodbyes
Left her standing on the corner
She shouted, wait
I never turned
I wish I had. Read more...

Poetry - A Message For .. and The Break Up By Nigel Holmes
Like a magnet, I was, when I first saw you.
Like a cactus in the desert, you stood out.
I did not know you, but, I was intrigued.
Would I get to know you?
Would you want to know me?
Your fantastic hair, your pretty face, Read more...

Poetry - Men weep more as they grow old, and women less - newspaper headline. By Maurice Fairfield
Skimming through the daily press
Tales of spite and greed oppress
Evils great and evils small,
A headline caught my idle eye
A statement by some talking head
Researched and tested, and he said Read more...

Poetry - Balm Aid, Discarded Clothes and
The Deepest Scars By MD Tasker
The deepest scars see no light
They live, born from gashes
Coalescing to closed eyes
Stitch marks like lashes
Curving to small smiles
Or gnarled and wailing Read more...

Poetry - Lovedrug and Inter-Planetary Cosmic Rider and The Black Hole By Katherine Horrex Age 16
When love dies
the feeling is comparable
to the suffering
of the bitter sour comedown from
the most euphoric of highs:
With love's crushing demise Read more...

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