Alexander Coppedge

Rookie - 79 Points (June 25,1954 / Warrenton, North Carolina)

My Sabbath Prayer - Poem by Alexander Coppedge

People prayers to you are for guidance
crying worthless gifts of world to be had.
Assurances of themselves as true of hearts,
with countless annoying requests,
their shouts of Oh God please save me.
Week tallied measured in hours
forty hours job, forty hours television and two God.
I never really try to bother you.
I present myself an evil like them.
Not truly worthy of anything good per say,
waddling among them who are ungodly,
I judging them not being as them,
I am the same.
I will do my best to handle my woes
at many times near to my death.
I am but a servant, happy as I am.
A walk between light and dark,
having no voice only an obligation,
I work tilling the grounds of man.
I fumble and bumbled around in thoughts
footsteps unheard until a fork is pitched.
I having ignored the nightmares and shadows.
Bites in my sleep on back.
I stand here proof of that
surviving various portals of death.
All said I do have this request from me,
a request not just for me,
I realized I am with you God so deep in debt.
I pray unto the heavens,
for you and every ones happiness,
for peace on earth today.
My prayer not just for months or years,
I desiring a long everlasting wave,
a fact serving for eternity.
I pray for rain in its seasonal place,
sun to grow things nice and green,
tree with fruits, herbs and grass to stay,
under blue skies to seed abundant reaps.
Love with infant crying lungs
fields of endless sounds of joy.
Wishing, if I'm allowed, to apply my faith,
not I having to be found and rescued,
not me being lost in uncertainties.
My prayer is for misgivings us flesh do,
sheep pasturing an unrighteous maze,
yeah we all mess up too.
Wish to view actuality to see facts clear,
protecting the meek from con man plays,
so, I can serve the throne as well.
Wishing all the hosts were happy with cheer,
I pray you hear these statements dear,
all safe from death, doubt and its fear.
Wishing to be inside at least at the rear,
ignore my eye rolling dripped tear,
of the arrival of the new city gate.
My Sabbath Prayer.


Form: Prose Poem

Poet's Notes about The Poem

Even how low I am, I do pray

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 1, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, August 7, 2015

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