I am not bound by ancestral spirits,

To do as my forefathers did!

While allowing for similarities,

Animalism is not my bid.



While ‘bearing one another’s burdens’

I am obliged to ‘bear my own.’

To each his own, responsible

I am to occupy my own throne.



I do not inherit my father’s traits.

I am a poet, he is not!

He had a way with words, in speech.

Eloquence I have not got!



Consensually I sin, he did too.

“All have sinned and come short

Of the Glory of God.”  So far away,

We are tempted sometimes to abort!



But what I do he is not responsible.

He has his own thing to do!

His son does not have to do as he does.

He is accountable, too!



Contractually I am as far away

Or near to my Father above.

As near has everything to do with

And how we receive His love!



My grandfather did not receive His love.

My father did, so did I!

Do not you think our Father in Heaven knows

Who His child is and also, why?



Sam Cox (is not the judge) 04.04.04


Can anyone count the stars out there?

Like in our galaxy alone?

A trillion, quintillion, perhaps googolplex,

No countless!  The mind sheer blows!



Then there is the rest of the universe!

Forget the Milky Way!

Seems like a galaxy in itself,

Numberless stars displayed!



Our star cluster within this vastness

No mind can ever contain.

But to the One who made it all,

To God, of course, it is so plain!



“Without number…except to Creator God,”

Every planet controlled!

And named and charted to be used

As the future unfolds.



This only God knows surprises complete!

As His smile lights the way!

Untouched by time; His presence aglow!

Promise a brighter day!



“Many mansions,” that Jesus promised,

With a twinkle in His eye.

Was His reference to planets about

A thought to fetch a sigh?



Mansion to mansion, planet to planet?

Does this present a problem?

Not a problem to this glorified body. (*)

Through the Spirit to solve them.



“The heavens shout the Glory of God!”

That glory will not be diminished!

We will dwell in that glory, the heavens,

When for us it is finished!



(*) John 14, “I go to prepare a place for you.”



Sam 11.10.10


Is there a chance possibly that God cares about you?

Six-sextillion tons of earth revolving, oh yes, it is true!

At a thousand miles an hour, just how did they figure that out?

You cannot refute science! They are right without a doubt!



Yet we discredit the Bible, or try to, that is,

“The Heavens declare the glory of God!” This we dismiss!

A million tons of earth in space, just a shooting star!

Soon it will burn itself out though it travels far!



Limitless! How can we not conceive the Hand of God?

Forever and forever He has existed! Eternal Lord!

Consider the twenty-three degree tilt of our planet,

Without this tilt, global flooding! Better believe it!



Surely you cannot believe that God cares about you?

Just a spec on this planet, but then, what else is new?

Does He care about that sparrow? Sure, “the foxes have holes.”

Even that slimy tiny worm, its function unfolds! (*)



What more do we need? Yes, the timing is complete!

The Bible is pure history, proven factual replete

With the progress, of regress, of mankind God holds

The only sad creature that He cannot control! (**)



Did Jesus prove His love for us by dying on that hill?

Sure! He claimed to be very God! Him we have got to kill!

He claimed? And He was, is God! He proved it over and over!

He died for the unworthy but He loves us more and more!



(And only man is vile)



(*) Best bait for fishing, too.

(**) Actually, will not, He has so decreed.



Sam Cox 2.18.05


Still trying to create that perfect poem

But whose  standards  does it claim?

So quit trying to emulate the Masters!

How many poets can claim my name?



Did Keats, Clemens, or Edgar Allan write Christian?

What did Edgar Allan write for?

The scary stuff, poets all have their own style,

Like Poe’s, “Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’”



Hopeless, sure senseless, even formidable

Or funny could that be it!

Perhaps just striving for plain ridiculous!

Like poets, plain throwing a fit!



Maybe for money or did they die paupers?

Like that pure favorite of mine,

“Thou are lost and gone forever!

Dreadful sorry,  Clementine.”



As old as the hills!  Well, older that I am.

Maybe, could be the gimme

That certain thing making poetry salable

Old not important!  What is in it!



More like preaching, my stuff, well do not get

Enough, I am a preacher, my excuse.

So dig the poetry, that is all you will get!

I am trying not to abuse!



I strain at the bit, an old farmers saying!

Whether you like it or not!

I work so hard trying for meter and rhymes,

Takes awhile but it’s bought.



For the Glory of God, that is my aim!

To please Him, that is my clout

Seek forgiveness for this explanation stuff

Guess that is what it is all about!



a Sam thing  05.04.11