Biography of Divina Boulangé
I've loved poetry since elementary when a teacher's aide held a poetry contest. And, although simple and somewhat absurd, my poem won first place!
I write about a variety of things. Many of the poems I write are never seen by other's eyes. Some poems 'happen' as just a rush of emotions I'm feeling at the time. Others require time and sweat to accomplish! In any case, I enjoy poetry because it is simply a way to put my thoughts and feelings on paper in a way that helps other people understand me.
Divina Boulangé Poems
A Soldier Remembers
That bitter night in Valley Forge stands above my other memories. ‘Twas winter, and the snowy winds whistled through the trees. Gathered ‘round a dying fire, soldiers shivered from the night chill. Few were sleeping; others keeping solemn vigil stood still.
I'm smart. I wish I wasn't. Yes, you heard me right.
Not A Word
He was falsely accused While Barabbas was excused. He bore sin’s awful heavy shame. Upon Himself, he took me blame.
Such simple words, yes. But, oh, how they bless! They tenderly soften hearts hardened by life. Strange how, though small, they are welcomed by all, Bringing smiles to faces and an end to strife.
What Is Truth?
“Crucify Him! Crucify Him! ” sounds the shout. The mob grows louder as Pilate comes out. The bound Man is led into the judgment hall To be interrogated and condemned before all.
I Tried It All Until...
Crushed. Broken. Forsaken. Lost.
The Unseen Battle
You may hear the yelling; you may criticize the actions. You may see the temper rising and recoil at the reactions. But deep inside my frame, you don’t know what’s going on. You don’t see the battle waging between my flesh and the Son.
Your Strongest Weapon
Punch! Smack! Kick! Slap! It's amazing what the tongue can do. Slicing, stabbing, degrading, hating, Oh, yes! Words can hurt you!
Quick! A Poem! !
Without The Other
The dazzling brightness of the morning sun; The frightening darkness of gloomy midnight. The inviting warmth of a cackling bonfire;
I write simply yet in code. My story you have
Not A Word
He was falsely accused
While Barabbas was excused.
He bore sin’s awful heavy shame.
Upon Himself, he took me blame.
Yet He said not a word.
Led to the slaughter like a lamb –
Jehovah, Adonai, the Great I AM.
Mocked and ridiculed, laughed to scorn,