Written by Adam M. Snow
It is but their desire; the poets seek
to write with fire, from their pen dripping ink;
cast out words to inspire, the weak
to aspire, to think
and to admire.
The Poet Written by Adam M. Snow It is but their desire; the poets seek to write with fire, from their pen dripping ink; cast out words to inspire, the weak to aspire, to think and to admire. A.M. Snow © 2015 all rights reserved
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Year of Jubilee Written by Adam M. Snow My child, My child; lend Me your ear, heed My word, put aside your fear, your pride, your sword, your envious jeer - hear My voice and revere. See the world through grain of sand, this world of yours is My Father's land. Heed My word and make a stand - rain of revival is at hand. Your home will burn with Holy fire; your kin will see My Father's desire. Hundreds of voices will be lifted higher, many will speak with tongues of fire. The blind will gain a whole new sight, they shall see God's Holy might. Holy Spirit will in them shine bright, their tongues shall too with fire ignite. The lame will dance and dance so free, to a Heavenly chorus of praises towards Me. They will dance and dance so endlessly - rejoicing, rejoicing with tears of glee. The mute will speak with unheard voice and sing aloud as they rejoice. Praises will flow from their new found voice, set ablaze as they rejoice. The deaf will hear the angel choir, their hearts will be set a fire. They will hear My voice, My desire and go forth to inspire. My child, My child; lend Me your ear, heed My word, put aside your fear, your pride, your sword, your envious jeer - hear My voice and revere. There's more to come in the coming year, but time is fading as I draw near. Listen My child, so that our hearts cohere - a great revival is drawing near. The raging wars, the pointless bloodshed all will cease, the lost will be led to the altar with tears they'll shed, - their hearts, free of dread. The earth shall see His Majesty, all captives will be set free. All creation will fall to their knees, this the year of Jubilee. My child, My child; lend Me your ear, heed My word, put aside your fear, your pride, your sword, your envious jeer - hear My voice and revere - hear My voice, let our hearts cohere - a great revival is drawing near. A.M. Snow © 2015 all rights reserved Voice of the Aborted Written by Adam M. Snow Momma, momma Can't you hear me crying? They cut me up yet you're denying The life that could have been. I was asleep, growing, sucking on my thumb; My heart was beating in your womb... You choose to end what could have been. A furnace now my tomb. I'm without a voice, I can't yet speak. If I did, would you hear me; Let me live a life, Let me be what I wanted to be? Did daddy love me as much as you, Who felt the need for me to die? Momma, momma Can't you hear me cry? You let them pull me from your womb; Ripped my arms apart. Hear my cry, momma... They cease this beating heart. They said it's your choice to take my life. They said I'm just a group of cells. But I'm a human being just like you, Whose heart now beats still. Now I lay here in a bloody mess, With no future of my own. These men will burn and sell my parts, While you live your life alone. You rejoice with no regrets, Just wait, you'll pay your debts. You took my life and what could be - Momma, did you truly not love me? -A baby's heart starts beating 18 days from conception. It starts beating at about 3-4 weeks, you won't hear it until around 8 weeks. If you think their life doesn't matter, look in the mirror because someone thought your life matter enough to keep your heart beating.- #fetuslivesmatter #prolife #antiabortion #LetTheirVoiceBeHeard A.M. Snow © 2012 all rights reserved Weeping by the Willow Tree Written by Adam M. Snow Who is she adorned in moonlight's veil - This beauty with skin so fragile and pale? I see her within a dream surreal, Weeping by the willow tree. Why does she weep such a woe, Under starry midnight glow? Upon the ground, her tears will flow; Weeping by the willow tree. How can I clearly see? She weeps so tenderly... Will I come to know; can it be, She weeps for me by the willow tree? What can cause her broken heart, That led this dame to hurt? Her hair does fairly touch the dirt; Weeping by the willow tree. A love that's lost should only be, Misinterpreted reality, For she will never be set free, Weeping by the willow tree. A heart's amiss if love is lost - An empty bliss would be the cost. A troubled dream, she would exhaust – Weeping by the willow tree. Every which way the wind would blow, The rustling leaves, the willow'd throw. Akin to willows weep, we know! She weeps by the willow tree. Is she an angel kneeling there? What is her burden that she bear? Certainly there is such grief in the air, Away by the olden willow tree. She veils her face with waterfall tears, Misery held her all these years. Still she, with tender hopes and fears, weeps by the willow tree. The willow tree leaves would sway, As she, on her knees would pray. Every night and every day, She weeps by the willow tree. Standing afar, I thought of her Just a dame, as if it were - A memory cast a blur, A passing wind through the willow tree. She wears such woe, what holds her dear... Amidst these trials of heartache and fear? Upon the morn, my eyes came clear - Reason why she weeps by the willow tree. Alas! It is that she cries for me; It twas I who caused her such sweet misery. I hear her cries, her plea, Underneath the willow tree. I oft wonder what I did to she, And wonder why she weeps for me. In the night I hear the keys - While she weeps under the willow tree. Upon the morn, it occurred to me, That maiden cries out of love for me. And I simply walked past her plea, Not knowing what causes her to weep, Silently under the willow tree. The succeeding night I went to see, That beautiful girl who sits under the tree. I saw her there, but in despair - She hangs from two branches bare. Swinging under the willow tree. A.M. Snow © 2012 all rights reserved Take Me Now, O Unseeing Hand Written by Adam M. Snow Take me now, O Unseeing Hand, lead me through this darkened land. Place my feet upon the Rock, I'll stand; I'll be Thy feet, Thy hands. Onward past the day I'm gone, in thy present I'll be forever on. Praising only He the Risen One, Jesus Christ, God's only Son. I will be Thy helping hands, helping the fallen proudly stand. I'll be a light upon this land. I'll lead the flock, I am Your hands. Through the deepest darkest night, with tongue of fire I shall ignite. Darkness will flee for I'll shine bright. Blessed is He, great is His might. I'll take Thee by Thy hand, if Thou taketh me to holy land. Blessed is He, O Unseeing Hand, Thou grace will cover all the lands. Blessed is He that saveth me, who gave this blind man sight to see, the Bearer of Tranquility. Nearer, my God, to Thee. Nearer, My God, to Thee. No things of the world shall I see; my eyes are fixed upon Thee, the Bearer of Tranquility. A.M. Snow © 2015 all rights reserved For Damien Written by Adam M. Snow How cruel this thing called time, to take a life so young, just moments from his prime; his life had just begun. Such a smile will be missed. Such a joy to have met, a blessing to exist; to be a friend, I don't regret. He made an impact on us all, made us love him even more. The love of his would enthrall a friend to adore. How can time be so cruel to take a gift away, making me a fool to demand to fate, he stay? But this day an angel's born - bearing that same ol' smile; as Heaven's lights adorned, a beauty that goes for miles. Today I say my farewell, the end this friendship is not nigh. We'll meet again as fate foretell; together in Heaven on high. Smile on, my dear friend, this isn't the end. A.M. Snow © 2012 all rights reserved A Farewell to a Friend Written by Adam M. Snow Today's the day I wish it not to come. Such this, a farewell I wish not to say. But such a day thus day of glum, that you depart and go your way. But of this day such a day you leave me, alone this night, this night I wept. But such a day, a day we knew would be; still this day I cannot accept. Oh my friend, my dear, dear friend; many years have come and gone. The day we met as fate intends, those days have grown our bond. As you depart, no need to worry, I'll continue on this journey alone. On this day to death, I plea, 'Slow your clock.' oh, I intoned. Upon this day, death embraces you; our friendship end is never nigh. Our bond these years have been so true, that is why this night I cry. Still this day, I ponder back and when, all turmoil and of pain. All the help you were back then; the help that kept this young man sane. Yet through my troubles and dismay, you were the one who guides my ship - through countless waves of life's foul play; you sailed me through and built this friendship. Now you are leaving me with a memory, the greatest gift to treasure. As you go beyond the earth and sea, beyond all worldly measures. Hear me now my friend, my friend, it still pains me to say, 'Let this not be our end, we will meet again someday.' Until then my friend, it is a farewell until the end. Until the Lord takes me away, until that day, until that day. A.M. Snow © 2012 all rights reserved The Music in the Wind Written by Adam M. Snow O you sweet ol sound that grasp the wind, you hold so tight to sway again - through the branches springtide leaves, such a tune these wind they weaves. O that sweet ol song I heard before; those magic notes, amusing score. Like a moth's once soon cocoon, your sweet ol song shall bring a new. The songs that birds in morning sing, those chapel bells whom we praise to ring. Among the wind, they play so free - O sweet ol sound, play again for me. Let me hear o rustling branches, a sound of an octave cord - that of which o nature brings me, the songs of which the tune - delights me. The joy your tune in which it brings, upon the wind - upon pigeons wings. Songs of which entwined with man, like that of many passing cars, or the coming train to name of some; a flowing rhythm - their own drum. O this day your finest song, I can hear it all day long. To hear thee, o city music, a concerto to befit, - entwined with the sound of nature - entwined with the earth for sure. Your tune so great it can be seen, through the branches, leaves of green. Such an awe we shall not waste, the joyance of sweet nature's fate. A.M. Snow © 2012 all rights reserved To My Steadfast King Written by Adam M. Snow Take me O majesty, my steadfast king; the world an evil place, I dare not live but if I must, to thee I sing. To thee I shall live, I shall live for thee and to thee my voice shall bring joy to you and peace to me. To thee my voice shall ring; bring forth a standard, a white flag to thee. Before you my king, I shall be upon my knees and before your feet my king, I lay my crown. I shall raise a voice, a song to sing. I shall be free, from these chains holding me. A.M. Snow © 2012 all rights reserved A Visitor in the Morning Fog Written by Adam M. Snow Oh, what a stage this morning break; on waking to a misty light. My heart is weak, I feel it ache upon this morning sight. So thick the fog the dawn opaque, which blocks the morning bright. Unlike the sun my heart won't hide, nor in the fog where it dwells. And even though with all my pride, this hateful heart, I knew so well, had left this man alone to stride in this small smoky hell. But in this fog a creature stirs, with wings to which to flutter. And though my eyes a blur, I hear those wings begin to sputter. But if it is as I should infer, 'tis some black bird aflutter. To be here now where I have stood amidst the winter's fog. It perched itself upon a wood, a branch that fell into a log; as nature shaped itself, it would remove the gowans frae the bog. O blackened creature piercing eyes, It pierces my soul and steals my heart. I hear its scornful cries as it rips my soul apart. As truth be told, I dare not lie; I cannot cease this beating heart. The crow that craves its carrion, can never hide from me. The pair of us shall carry on in this fog, no men can see. Nor shall they hear its clarion, its squawking in an offset key. It mocks me with its devilish stare, in this fog upon this stage. Such risk this foulest bird would dare, then as to assuage the gripes of this a smoky air in a fog-like cage. It speaks to me on this wise, "I shall never let you die." said he with his scornful cries, spreading wings now as to fly. That ol' bird now on arise, soaring to the sun on high. Now I'm left alone to ponder, who or what that crow may be. Alone am I left to wander, while that bird is flying free. In the mist now yonder, I am stricken with this misery. For it t’was I the darkened bird, that tore my soul apart; stole my voice, my words, my virgin beating heart. I feel this day absurd; cursed me since the start. Oh, what a stage that morning break; that nightmare of a sight. Still, my heart it does so ache, adjoined of a fright. So strange it was that fog opaque, O that haunting morning sight. A.M. Snow © 2012 all rights reserved |
"Too much knowledge will lead a man to believe he's God." AuthorA.M. Snow is a poet, photographer and in his own way, a philosopher and he is a strong devoted dedicated follower of Jesus Christ. POETRY
A collection of Adam M. Snow's poetry.
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