If I Were a Success…

If I were a success,

what would that mean for me?

Would it be everything,

I had imagined it to be?

If I were a success,

how would things really change?

Would my preconceived notions,

become quickly rearranged.

If I were a success,

would I be true to myself?

Or would I be ruined,

by fortune and wealth?

If I were a success,

would I be complete?

Would I share the real me,

or selfishly retreat?

If I were a success,

would I gain many friends?

Would I be a frequent topic,

of social media trends?

If I were a success,

a better person would I be?

Would the true person I am,

be easy to see?

Hopefully!

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

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Penny Thoughts…

A single penny for a thought,

is that really all it’s worth?

A cost that is cheap, unlike the talk,

the babble post-baby’s birth.

You would think that after all this time,

our thoughts would be worth more.

But the more we share what’s on our minds,

the pennies seem to pour.

I wonder what was on the mind,

of the person who came up with this?

The value of thoughts misunderstood,

the mark was surely missed.

A penny for a single thought,

or so the saying goes.

Obviously not a lot has changed,

no matter what the prose.

Maybe it’s best to keep our thoughts,

safe and securely bound.

If thoughts were never shared out loud,

no pennies would be found.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

The Best Love of All….

In a day and age where loyalty wains,

behind your back, the looks of disdain.

The unseen daggers that caused you pain.

God’s love remains; supremely he reigns.

It’s not a fad, certainly not a trend.

When I praise my Father, it should not offend.

The minds of those who can’t comprehend,

the divine healing that thoroughly mends.

Do not despair when others fail,

to hear your cries and hopeless wails.

You’ve become the object of their wicked tales.

But the love of God forever prevails.

When everyone else has left your side,

and you’re all alone on that wicked ride.

There’s no where to run, no where to hide.

God sees your wounds, the tears you’ve cried.

It is difficult to get up from so many falls.

Your pleas are ignored like unanswered calls.

The weight of your spirit, too heavy to haul.

The endless tears, a baby’s bawl.

With knees that are bruised from the miles you’ve crawled.

The joy you once knew, now punctured and sprawled.

But your love still lives, though your spirit has stalled.

God’s love is truly the best love of all.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall

The Cold Within…

Hello all! Just want to share this awesome poem that was read during this morning’s church service. The author is unknown, but this piece is powerful. Enjoy!!

Six humans trapped by happenstance

In dark and bitter cold;

Each one possessed a stick of wood

Or so the story’s told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,

The first woman held hers back;

For of the faces around the flame

She noticed one was black.

The second man looking all about,

Saw no one of his church,

And couldn’t bring himself to give

The fire his stick of birch.

The rich man sat and thought

Of all the wealth he had in store;

Why should his stick be used to warm

The lazy, shiftless poor?

The poor man sat in tattered clothes,

He gave his coat a hitch;

No way would he let his stick be used

By the greedy selfish rich.

The black man bitter and full of rage,

Held his oak branch tight;

For all he saw in his stick of wood,

Was a chance to spite the white.

The last man of this forlorn group

Did nothing except for gain;

Giving only to those who gave,

Was how he played the game.

The branches held in fate’s cruel hands,

Was proof of human sin;

They didn’t die from the cold without;

They died from THE COLD WITHIN.

Author – Unknown