Christian Poetry
Poems by Web Ruble

Web writes: "A poet I'm not. I'm mainly a short story writer. But I do write an occasional poem, seeking to express God's glory and welcome to the everyday person."

God's Caffeine
By Web Ruble

Here water tumbles in its attractiveness
I come here often to spring my languid soul
Holy ghosts delight again to show the way.
The way I am going is Street Providence.
I don’t know -- the name is a coincidence?
Cross a road bridge. Water falls to a gurgle.

Hoosha galoosh glugaswiss washa furgle.
Below some big plate windows swirl weeping pools
A narrow board tempts pedestrian crossers
But nobody tries it. Mimbry splats warn you
and aqua vortex swirling suggests awkward
dark under current and dangers and ruin.

‘Twould certainly disrupt this soulful stirring
place of credible age. Yes, yes ‘tis quite old
but artificial. Surely, timeless ‘tis not.
Yet the hovering angels dwell about. They
lift me beyond the bright sunlight and shadow.
Down the river-creek stream, bobbing and crashing.

Yay, dashing from boulder to rock, it sizzles
delightfully fresh as fat bacon and eggs
on a quite sunny morning late brunch griddle.
Surely Holy spirits move with this current.
I stumble slowly along nearby, because
God is nigh, promising brim fulls of coffee.

(© 2010 Web Ruble – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)


Crossing The Street
By Web Ruble

Oh, look, looky here. He’s crossing the street.
Bow tie, zoot suit, bowler and a dickie.
Dressed like a dandy he’s bound for the date
Perched on the curb, now he’s crossing the tracks

Thirtieth Ave is now so important
Observe now he’s crossin’ at the corner
People ogle He’s got their attention.
He’s packin’ a Bible crossin’ the street

Now the street ain’t wide but ‘tis important
Some day when I get money and fine rags
I’ll dress and go to Thirtieth to cross
Please watch when I try to win the moment

Oh yes yes I’ll be so important, too
Because peeps will see me crossin' the street
I’ll go for class and be noticeable
So others will say he’s a biggie too

Go get a Bible and a wooden cross
Because I’ll need ‘em when I cross the street
I just hope I’ll get all the attention
You see I too am bound for the glory

(© 2011 Web Ruble – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)


Musing on the Murky
By Web Ruble

I am some sort of a short story writer and novelist, but occasionally I wax poetic. Though now living in Oregon, this effort recalls a Yule long ago on a bay in Washington state (USA). 'Tis an event that somehow has stayed with me in memory all of these years.

I do believe that God’s spirit blows
With this raw soaking wind
On the murky Hoquiam waterway
As it sweeps bends
On its eternal chug to the bay.

Though ‘tis miserable
God is there. I feel Him.
Funny I never absorbed Him before.
Perhaps the reason now is
That shanty man waving.

“Merry Christmas sir God bless,”he said.
Sir? Me? A surprising guy.
If this shanty-bound man can greet so can I.
Having left my above-puddles chamber
And clangor I had gone for a stroll

Above a tide-muddy river
To clear the sawdust from my soul
To Wander old haunts the
Harbor’s spirit may have gathered in
Which has always eluded this oyster

I’m at north rail of Simpson Bridge
surveying tugboat-edged outgoing water.
Yes,‘tis Christmas spirit” for which I’ve been looking
The entire holiday is here now.
Go no farther.

Strange that I should find it here lurking.
I tarry wanting to savor the moment
Dew! ‘Tis shivering cold
I may never wander this way again.
But I feel a warm heart
God is with me

(© 2011 Web Ruble – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)


Rock Walls
By Web Ruble

Though a short story writer and not truly a poet, I nevertheless issue with a poem now and then. This one is from a true event back in 1938 when I was a wee wee tot.

Rock walls glen like and bubbling water
Cool evening with fern and donkey
Testifies to desired permanence
A spiritual gift

God has always been there and I now yearn
To never really understand it all
Because I like the obscure mystery
The way it has been

I can remember in earliest days
Perhaps I was born with old memory
Under a veil from previous life slips
Now new life at 4.

As I get much older I realize
reincarnation alone cannot be
Scripture is silent
Forget the secret

Water into an old coffee pot
I remember still the overflowing
I exuded mood there at the sink
fascinated much it intrigued me

Enameled sink walls are a canyon
Overflowing fount a watering place
Used by people after evening chores
Warm feelings and home

Was I Turk or Arab in previous life?
Or umm a coffee merchant?
I have seen similar on Hills Bros can
It does not program

Matters exist in this life that I can
Not divine nor will I ever so do
Because Christ walks with me
and that is all that’s important

(© 2011 Web Ruble – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)


Davey Jones Is In His Locker
By Web Ruble

Oh, how I rue the day I tested our luck
When Rick, Erik and I aboard Erik's boat
Rode the tide out of Ilwaco for Buoy 10
We crossed Columbia's Bar and headed out

Take the wheel, Erik said, whilst Rick and I
go astern to wrestle the gear and guise
If a big wave should come at us then
Steer our craft head into the water's rise

Whatever you do, do not get crosswise
As surely a big wave us will capsize
And so I said okay -- we've got luck this day
And immediately a huge white-topped gray

Wave came at our small boat, causing me
To say, what should I do about this water wall?
'Stear into 'er directly' quoth Erik the Tall
And I do so fearing we were in for a soaking fall.

The Tern jerked and we smashed the water wall
It knocked us down and nearly overboard.
Though drenched our gear and bait stayed aboard
Oh Lord, hear our prayer, and not our caterwaul

Where did that come from? somebody asked
'Japan" is all that I could say, moan or gasp
Then I bravely said 'We don't need a bigger boat'
'Cuz God is with us... He'll keep us afloat.'

This was the Pacific, not Galilee
And we weren't using nets, you see
Moreover there was nary a reason
That we should be out so early this season.

Flirting with fate and in God's face
We three surely needed His Grace
And saying our prayers was the way
Jesus would keep us afloat this day

(© 2014 Web Ruble – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)


A Briney Challenge
By Web Ruble

On a day like today 'tis difficult for landlubbers
Visually to separate gray sky from gray ocean
Like the late writer Ken Kesey has said
Once in a while he gets a great notion.

To go to sea -- where it meets the land
Today such a venture would be grand, but
My back hurts, my wife's heart is aflutter
Plus she coughs. It may put her asunder.

Though a viking, she's not seabeat inclined
But hail to hearty seamen, who brave brine
Because for them seldom there's a morrow,
And they cannot wait for another time.

God, you see, has for them expectations
To be brave, active, gutsy and loyal
And please excuse his foul language as the
Seaman utters traditions of his toil.

(© 2014 Web Ruble – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)

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