MONICA MAARTENS
Pieces Of Me
Pieces of my
heart lay scattered around,
pieces of my soul
trampled aground,
pieces of my
spirit broken by strife,
pieces of my
flesh struck by a knife...
Innocent and
pure, swallowed by life,
ignorant and
naive, trust severed by strife,
pulled through
all the pain of hell,
cast aside into a
polluted well...
Broken and beaten
into the world,
daily battles
through evils so twirled,
heart, soul and
spirit pray for freedom of flesh,
restoration so
pure and fresh...
Pieces of my
heart lay scattered around,
pieces of my soul
trampled aground,
pieces of my
spirit broken by strife,
pieces of my
flesh struck by a knife...
Oh dear Lord,
please save my soul,
release my spirit
and make me whole,
lift me from my darkened
hell,
heal my wounds
and make me well.
Zararia Yul ©
Copyright
Angel Kisses
Whispering whisps
of angel kisses,
drift upon the
air and land on my cheek...
their silent
voices enter my ears
with messages of
love and hope devouring fears...
I know they're
near when I feel their touch
caress my face
and stir my hair...
they help me
through the darkest nights
and lift the veil
so I can see,
they're there
when evil spreads temptations,
luring us into
dishonourable situations,
guiding us with
clues and words of deliverance
to escape the
nets with insightful assurance,
angel kisses
dancing upon the breeze,
bringing sweet
comfort through every squeeze.
Zararia Yul ©
Copyright
Captured Angels
There is a story
of ancient origin,
angels wanting to
share in humanity,
feel what it
feels like to play in insanity,
yet forgot to ask
the cost of their endeavours,
before too long
they all fell from grace,
shackled and
chained in almighty disgrace,
to supposedly be
the rulers in hell...
slaves they
became but none would tell,
as angels they
had to destroy Gods creation,
defile, despise
and cause a sensation,
angels in hell
using Satans formation
to seduce the
young and wrap them in shame...
then they take
control of broken souls,
with smooth
charisma suck them into webs,
relieve their
pain with drugs and drink,
make them feel
better but yet they sink,
like leaves in
the wind thrown about,
used and
discarded like second hand trash,
younger and
younger the victims became
until little
babies were raped as game...
rivers flood with
children’s tears,
mothers and
fathers smothered with fears...
entire humanity
sucked into the system,
from head to tail
in the belly of the serpent.
Zararia Yul © Copyright
MONICA MAARTENS
MONICA MAARTENS: South African born Poetess running with
life, falling and rising again and again, sharing her experiences and knowledge
gained, through her poetic stories of life, love, soul and adventures. Enjoy.
Thank you.
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