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1. A GIFT NOT GIVEN ( Lopez )

2. KYRIE ELEISON! CHRISTE ELEISON !  ( Ervin )

3. POET'S PRAYER ( Lopez )

4. TUESDAY MORNING -- For my daughter ( Lopez )

5. SEVEN BASKETS  ( Lopez )

6. SIGH ( Lopez )

7. WAVED ( Lopez )

8. WHAT AM i PRAYING FOR? (Ventura )  A freestyle Christmas Poem    

9 THANKSGIVING  ( Cleveland ) Dec 2014

10.  iNNOCENCE  CRUCIFIED  ( John M. Harvey)  March 2015

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 1.                                  A GIFT NOT GIVEN

                  by Roberto Lopez   Stevenson Unit       Cuero, Texas

 I heard my daddy talking to my mommy.

He was angry when he said,

     he didn't  want  me.

He said I wasn't bigger than a dime.

And all the while I could feel

     my mommy crying.

Oh, how I wish you could hear me asking,

     for the greatest gift you could ever give:

Daddy, daddy, let me live.



 And if you do I promise you,

     that I'll never break a rule.

I won't cry for a shiny bike,

     and I’ll do very well in school.

I'll be happy without a puppy,

I'll just sit in a corner and smile.

'Cause the greatest gift for this little boy,

      will be the blessing of being your child.

 

My daddy gave some money to my mommy.

He told her to go vacuum clean her  tummy.

My mommy cried and asked if they could pray.

But daddy saw her tears, and walked away.

Oh, how I wish he'd hear me asking,

     for the greatest gift he could ever give:

Daddy, daddy, let me live.

 

And if you do I promise you,

     that I'll never break a rule.

I won't cry for a shiny bike,

     and I'll be excellent in school.

I'll be happy without a puppy,

I'll just sit in a corner and smile.

'Cause the greatest gift for this little boy,

      is the blessing of being your child.

 

I heard my mommy say that she was cold.

The doctor said the instruments

     were kind of old.

Oh, daddy, there's a life that you can save.

Why should mommy’s womb be my cradle,

     and my grave?

Oh, how I wish you could hear me asking,

     for the greatest gift you could ever give:

Daddy, daddy, daddy...

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 2.                                   KYRIE ELISON, CHRISTE ELEISON !

                                by Samuel A. Ervin  SCI Fayette  LaBelle, PA  

Here I kneel

A meager prayer to You

Feeling my finiteness

Trusting, yet confused.Ever striving, ever failing,

Eluded by perfection,

I walk in a fog,

Trusting Your direction.

 

Filled with knowledge

Yet never quenched.

Seeking Your face,

But lacking the strength.

 

Your grace is there

Welling up inside.

Yet my eyes are dark,

And I am blind.

 
The world is barren,

A vampire beast.

Selling sand for water,

Numbness for peace.

 

A banquet of poison

They prefer to Your Grace.

I am blind to their reason,

Yet mourn for their fate.

 
I struggle to serve.

My sins are great,

A phantom before you,

Drinking a cup of shame.

 
All good is Yours.

All evil is mine.

I feel my unworthiness

Before holiness divine.
 

Lord have mercy.

Do what I cannot do.

Mold me in truth.

My will is for You.

 
Yet awaken the dead,

Those lurking in blindness,

Open to the world,

Yet blind to your kindness.

 
Wean them from their lies

That poisons their soul.

Extinguish it from us all.

Lord remake us as whole.

 
Guide us to perfection,

The way of Your Son,

Who with You and the Spirit,

Are the Most Holy One.

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   3.                                        POET'S PRAYER

                     by Roberto Lopez   Stevenson Unit       Cuero, Texas
 

Oh, hear my supplications –

          I don’t know your will.

Empty me out of me,

         and with you – refill.

 

Help me please you, Lord –

         make my life a song.

My walk a living melody

        -vibrant and strong.

 

Bring me into harmony,

         with your master plan.

Make your dream reality

         and me – a Godly man.

                                         Amen.

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   4.                                TUESDAY MORNING

                                       (for my daughter)

              by Roberto Lopez   Stevenson Unit       Cuero, Texas  


Little birdie,

Come to me,

I’ll tell you what to sing.

 

First you tweet,

And then tweet-tweet.

Then take it on your wing.

 

Now go find

My little girl,

And wait for sun to rise.

 

By her window,

You must stand,

And watch for opened eyes.

As she yawns,

And stretches in bed,

You’ll sing our practiced song.

 

Begin her day,

The way I say,

And then go fly along.

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  5.                                             SEVEN BASKETS

                   by Roberto Lopez   Stevenson Unit       Cuero, Texas   

                                                           

How can I share all the blessings,

        the abundance that nourished my soul?

With whom do I share seven baskets

        left from the feast of the Lord,

        left from the feast of the Lord.

 

I’m gonna walk every desert,

        search for the hungering souls.

And I’m gonna share seven baskets

        left from the feast of the Lord,

        left from the feast of the Lord.

 

I’m gonna cross every river,

        search for the hungering souls.

And I’m gonna share seven baskets

        left from the feast of the Lord,

        left from the feast of the Lord.

 

I’m gonna climb every mountain,

        search for the hungering souls.

And I’m gonna share seven baskets

        left from the feast of the Lord,

        left from the feast of the Lord.

 

How will I share all the blessings,

        the abundance that nourished my soul?

With whom will I share seven baskets

       left from the feast of the Lord,

       left from the feast of the Lord.

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 6.                                                        SIGH

                     by Roberto Lopez   Stevenson Unit       Cuero, Texas 

 

I remember rinsing corn husks

       while mama made the dough.

She had learned to make tamales

        from her mama long ago.

As a child I was never hungry,

        as a child I was never cold.

Mama always did the best she could

        but she would never know.   

 

She’d never know

        how to stop my father from drinking,

Or my older brothers from sinking;

        she could see I was following footsteps

Going down…and she looked around.

 

But she didn’t know

        about the road that is seldom traveled,

Standing barefoot on a path of glass

        and gravel,

Mama shook her head and she gently

        put me down.

And her sigh was the only sound.

 

Mama woke me up from an overdose

        when I was seventeen.

She said I wasn’t ready, boy,

        for that eternal dream.

She said, son, don’t you see this life,

       nothing about the way we live is right;

But wherever there’s a tunnel

       there must also be a light.

 

And she didn’t know

       how to keep her son from tripping.

Didn’t know but she got me thinking;

       she could see I was following footsteps

Going down…and she looked around.

 

But she didn’t know

       about the road that is seldom traveled,

Standing barefoot on a path of glass

       and gravel’

Mama shook her head as she watched me

       going down

And her sigh was the only sound.

 

From the Texas prison in ol’ Amarillo,

       the State decided to grant parole.

I walked out on a cold and empty day

       to find mama…had passed away.

 

I remember rinsing corn husks

      while mama made the dough.

She had learned to make tamales

      from her mama long ago.

As a child I was never hungry,

     as a child I was never cold.

Mama did the best she could

     …this I know.        

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7.                                               WAVED

             by Roberto Lopez   Stevenson Unit       Cuero, Texas 


It was no Mississippi and I was no Mark Twain.

I floated on my inner tube, had a dog without a name.

Helping the people crossing, look out for the Border Patrol.  

Barefooted dusty boy, on the border of Mexico.

 

I could see the men that lived in shacks.

So many of them dying to become wetbacks.

Their women hungry and their children cried.

They spoke to me but I didn’t realize.

I couldn’t see what they saw in men.

Lucky to be born in the land of the free.

I was like a dream they would often dream.

Floating on the river they would holler at me:

 

Oye, little loco, I’ll trade places with you.

Oye, little loco, you got something to do.

Oye, little loco, how I wish I was you.

Oye, little loco, you got something to lose.

 

Not realizing it was true.

Not understanding about gratitude.

And now regretting what I didn’t do.

I could have waved…the red, white, and blue.

 

For forty years I’ve lived this life of crime.

Not understanding how to claim what’s mine.

Salvation Army get me on my feet.

Take me to prison to get me off the street.

And give my chance to a man that sees.

So many of them fighting for some dignity.

So many of them wishing they were me.

What they said still floats in my memory:

 

Oye, little loco, I’ll trade places with you.

Oye, little loco, you got something to do.

Oye, little loco, how I wish I was you.

Oye, little loco, you got something to lose.

 

Not realizing it was true.

Not understanding about gratitude.

And now regretting what I didn’t do.

I could have waved…the red, white, and blue.

 

It was no Mississippi, Rio Bravo is its other name.

People dying to get across, to me it was a game.

Watching the people run and hide from the Border Patrol.

Barefooted dusty boy, barefooted dusty boy,

        barefooted dusty boy, on the border of Mexico.

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 8.                               WHAT AM I PRAYING FOR?

                  By Julio Nelson Ventura,  Bill Clements Unit, Amarillo, TX
 

For a peaceful Christmas

For a grain of love

For a timeless candle

For a beautiful decoration

For a landscape full of snow

 

For worries and concerns to disappear

 

For a violin to play this song

For a dance with my daughter

For a piano to play this song

For a walk with my son

 

For bad news and tragedies to disappear

 

For a faithful friend

For a faithful dog

For a faithful family

For a faithful shepherd

 

For racism and discrimination to disappear

 

For a time to smile

For a time to give

For a time to love

For a time to cry

 

For civil wars and street gangs to disappear

 

For kids to play in a peaceful society

For parents to love their children

For governments to respect human life

For peacemakers to speak up

 

For bad intentions and wrong choices to disappear

 

For a space to contemplate the coming of Jesus

For a quiet corner to read the Bible

For a room full of good books

For a classroom full of thoughtful listeners

 

For disobedience and unfaithfulness to disappear

For the joy of Christ

For the joy of Mary

For the joy of Saints

For the joy of Martyrs

 

For debates and attacks to disappear

 

For the safety of homeless and lepers

and missionaries

and disciples

and teachers

 

For religious and intellectual pride to disappear

 

For the salvation of the world

For the reconciliation of all Christians

before Christ returns   

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#9                                              THANKSGIVING  

                By Edward Cleveland   Walton Correctional Institution, Defuniak Springs, Florida 

 I am thankful for the love of the Father, that He breathed into me the breath of life, and I became a living soul.  

I am thankful for the Holy Ghost who rebirthed in me a living spirit, and for Jesus Christ, to whom I am baptized into the resurrection and the transformation of corruptible flesh to new, incorruptible and living flesh.  I groan with all creation in expectation of that day when I will enter into the glory of the living God.  

I am thankful for the spirit of adoption that allows me to call the sovereign God, “Abba, Father”.  And that glory by glory the image in my mirror is transformed into Christ, my brother.  

I am thankful that Jesus, having touched the feeling of our infirmities is the perfect High Priest forever; that His righteousness is imputed to us by faith in the Father who raised Him, and that we may come boldly to the throne of Grace. 

 I am thankful that the effectual and fervent prayers of the righteous avail much;  that the Word commanded us to seek the kingdom, to forgive, to join our prayers with those of the saints as an incense before the Lord. 
 I am thankful to the least member of the Body of Christ; to speak with my brothers the psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs – the melodies in our hearts to God.
  
I am thankful that this is the clay that the Lord has made.  Rejoice!

   I am thankful for the longsuffering of the Lord our God, not wishing anyone to perish.  And, while I cannot comprehend the height nor depth of His love, I am thankful that He chose me as His messenger to the Truth.  

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# 10.                    INNOCENCE CRUCIFIED

                   by   John M. Harvey,  Estelle Unit, Huntsville TX 77320

 
Can we open our eyes?
Can we answer the call?
Will we ever recognize the Truth?
Will we seek forgiveness?

Can we answer the call?
Can we remember the cross?
Can we seek forgiveness?
An innocent man was crucified.

Will we remember the cross?
Can we atone for mistakes?
An innocent man was crucified
To save the world.

Can we atone for our mistakes?
He freely chose those to follow that path
To save the entire world.
He loved each one of us.
 
He freely chose to follow that path,
The signs were everywhere
He loved each one of us
For what more could we ask?

 The signs were everywhere.
Prophesied and almost fulfilled.
For what more could we ask?
A decision must be made.

Prophesied and almost fulfilled
Time closes in on us.
A decision must be made
The answers were always there.

Time closes in on us
Will we ever recognize the Truth?
The answers were always there.
Can we open our eyes?

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