Everyone needs a song,
of deliverance . . .
everyone needs Jesus
to make a difference.

Everyone needs a victory,
over the enemy
everyone needs a fortress
that is heavenly.

Everyone needs a defense,
a rock to cling on
everyone needs Jesus
to depend upon.

Everyone needs a tower,
they can run into
everyone needs a trust
that they can pursue.

Everyone needs a song,
of their redemption. . .
everyone needs Jesus
for their salvation!

~~~~~

Isaiah 12:2

Behold, God is my salvation;
I will trust, and not be afraid:
for the Lord Jehovah
is my strength
and my song;
he also is become
my salvation.

Psalm 18:1-2

I will love thee, O Lord,
my strength.

The Lord is my rock,
and my fortress,
and my deliverer;
my God, my strength,
in whom I will trust;
my buckler,
and the horn of my salvation,
and my high tower.

King…

And some days…

she mused with the skies,

Writing poetry,

in between the branches of life. 

poetry and image copyright neha 2020

Look out your window
and wave at the birds
and the trees
and perhaps another fellow human being
look out your window today…
and say
hi to the skies
who doesn’t always answer your whys
but is always there
as solace for your eyes…
look out the window today.

poetry and image copyright neha 2020

Combat Medic pin

Leaving out all the bloody and boring bits, being an 11th Airborne Medic wasn’t all that bad ___ by: Ray Sweet, Medical Detachment/ 152nd Airborne Anti Aircraft Battalion/ 11th Airborne Division

Starting late 1945 and leaving out the bloody and boring bits, being and 11th Airborne Medic wasn’t all that bad.  The officers handled medics with silk gloves because they knew from who cometh their future immune booster injections as ordered by the higher command.

Medics ate better than most.  The cooks all knew who had the 190-proof alcohol to put in that lousy canned grapefruit juice.

Airborne Medic

They never had bed checks, curfews and all that other crap (like standing guard over a useless pile of junk that no one in their right mind would ever dream of stealing.)  They had a good life.

Sergeants were never a bother.  They all knew their battery could…

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and literally hear a line for a poem. I don’t know where the hell (or heaven that matter!) that it has come from, but I know I have to write it down if there is any chance of me getting back to sleep that night! My intuition comes to me in words and insights from somewhere I don’t fully understand and it was from this place that I wrote the following poem.

Clairaudient

I am an emitter of the Light

A channel for a message much higher than my earthly presence

A message which I do not yet fully understand myself

and yet know to be True with all of my Being

You cannot help but but receive it.

You feel it in the thrilling tingles of the thousand tiny stars twirling through my fingertips.

You hear it in the…