THE U IN JESUS
Before U were thought of or time had begun,
God stuck U in the name of His Son..
And each time U pray, you’ll see it’s true,
You can’t spell out JesUs and not include U.
You’re a pretty big part of His wonderful name,
For U, He was born; that’s why He came.
And His great love for U is the reason He died.
It even takes U to spell crUcified.
Isn’t it thrilling and splendidly grand
He rose from the dead, with U in His plan?
The stones split away, the gold trUmpet blew,
And this word resUrrection is spelled with a U.
When JesUs left earth at His Upward ascension,
He felt there was one thing He just had to mention.
“Go into the world and tell them it’s true
That I love them all – Just like I love U.”
So many great people are spelled with a U,
Don’t they have a right to know JesUs too?
It all depends now on what U will do,
He’d like them to know, But it all starts with U.
This poem was emailed to me by a friend. Thanks so much for making my day, by the way. Don’t know who authored it. Not a poet myself so I really love it when someone gets clever with a poem as is the case above. This poem got me to thinking about the first poem that touched me deeply. A classic by William Butler Yeats.
This poem is so deep even to this day it’s taught in psychology classes. If you are a smarty-arty in high school, chances are this bad boy has manifested itself in your existence and could be standing between you and college. I, Mary Brown, am even considering using ‘Things fall apart’ as a possible book title. All over the net and beyond you can find some reference to this poem. And yet, put it together with ‘The U in Jesus’ and you still have a beautiful mix or blend of words. Words that may make you think and feel, oh, I don’t know. However, you end up thinking and feeling.
The Second Coming
TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?