Small Poems # 22 Poem by JOE POEWHIT

DEATH

Gone to a far away land.
Never to return, only to dust.
Brought forth by the hand of GOD.
Laid to rest, with solemn sod.

WORLDS

Many flow into the wind.
That subtle odor of wayward sin.
Flash past the golden circuit.
Only to find rest in another place.

HOME

Gone beyond all bliss in life.
Magma flows from within.
May I walk this world alone.
Only to look for a dream from home.

copyright 1993 POEWHIT
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JESUS SAVES