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For answers we search and we prod
Why murderers kill on this sod.
…But one thing we know:
…Their list will not show
A single one faithful to God.
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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.
Posted in Limericks, My Poems, Religious, tagged bard on the hill, Dennis Allen Lange, evil, limerick, murderers, not faithful to God, poems, poetry, Satan's Side, wicked on May 5, 2019| 1 Comment »
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For answers we search and we prod
Why murderers kill on this sod.
…But one thing we know:
…Their list will not show
A single one faithful to God.
——————————————–
© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.
Posted in abortion, My Poems, Religious, tagged abortion murder, bard on the hill, calamity, Dennis Allen Lange, destruction, disasters, earthquakes, evil, holocaust, Hurricane Katrina, hurricanes, Mere Warnings, mockers, poems, poetry, repent, scoffers, scourge, sinful, tornadoes, trumpets, tsunami, wicked, wrath of God on September 30, 2018| Leave a Comment »
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Katrina, tsunami, quakes, and wind –
What more terrors will the great God send?
Trumpets that warn us; thunders that rumble
Wrath storms from heaven cause kingdoms to crumble.
We’re mockers; we’re scoffers when told to “Repent”,
Yet woes and the warnings – both heaven sent.
But bad as they were, the worst is now nearing
Unless we start heeding and turn to God – fearing.
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Unless this nation repents and stops abortion murders of
the unborn (2500 per day), God will destroy us. More
information is at my website: MineNotTheNine.com
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Photo by Dez Pain at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nMPzAP0/Forked+Lightning
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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.
Posted in My Poems, Religious, Uncategorized, Villanelle, tagged abortion, baby, bard on the hill, child, conception, daughter, Dennis Lange, God, maternal love, murder, poems, poetry, selfish, Son, The Killing Room, villanelle, wicked, woman's glory, womb on January 23, 2016| 1 Comment »
The safest place on earth should be the womb,
Wrapped by maternal love instilled by God above.
But love of self makes it a killing room.
It’s woman’s greatest glory and her plume
That God made her the one, to bear a daughter, son.
The safest place on earth should be the womb.
A child is weaved in her; she is the loom.
Conception’s grand event – new human’s great advent.
But love of self makes it a killing room.
A tiny bud is just a folded bloom
Woe to the gardener who snips – the murderer!
The safest place on earth should be the womb.
Too oft, the wicked rides upon her broom
And sweeps away the child that has her life defiled,
And love of self makes it a killing room.
There is no right to bring another doom.
The murder’s always wrong, e’en when it’s sung as song.
The safest place on earth should be the womb,
But love of self makes it a killing room.
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.