God's Treasures

I'm greedy for the treasures from on high,
I have God's love, but somehow I want more,
for them I'll work and pray or beg or buy,
I won't just knock, I'll pound upon the door.
If I could get away with it, I'd steal
those precious jewels from the bank above,
and stash the timeless spiritual loot that's real,
to funnel it to everyone I love.
I seek the secret finest gold and search
for things that thieves can't break or take or trace,
the sacred riches mostly mined in church,
each gem of them bright polished by God's grace.
Please, Christ, give me the key, a clumsy clod,
to open up the treasure chest of God.

                                     -- by Pete Voelz      3/09

God Here

O God, when no one’s there, You're always there,
when everyone is far away, You're near,
when no one hears, You still can hear my prayer,
when all the rest are gone, You’re always here.
When I need help, Your help You always bring,
You fly to dry my eye when I must cry,
You offer me enough of everything,
I know You will be there when I must die.
I sense You closest when we are alone,
I know You deepest when You speak to me,
You take away my fear of the unknown,
forgiving all my sins, You set me free.
Our closeness, Lord, I feel will be complete
when I see You in everyone I meet.

                          -- by Pete Voelz          6/09

Colorado Dove

No cowboys sport their spurs like Columbines:
the proud state flower Rocky Mountain Blue
by mountain meadows, cliffs and ancient mines
distends to drink of Colorado dew.
The Common Wild Canadian Columbine's
five scarlet and yellow petals droop and nod,
as bee or hummingbird dips down and dines
in three-inch nectar spurs stretched up to God.
The yellow hybrid Longspur Columbines
have eight-inch spurs that hang as petals rise;
the Meadowrue, King of the Meadow shines,
as its pink tassel-like blossoms tantalize.
Columbine's from a Latin word--for dove,
a bloom--quite like that peaceful bird--for love.

                              -- by Pete Voelz          2002

Less Afraid of Love

I wish that I were less afraid of love,
to let it in, to feel it, and to know it,
to live what I’ve been always dreaming of,
to let it out, to share it, and to show it.
Love often comes, love need not be so rare,
love starts, love lives, love does not need to end,
love grows, love spreads, love nurtured’s always there,
for family, children, lover, God and friend.
Love dribbles over time, don’t let it slide,
love must be challenged, love must take the risk,
love lurks, love lures, don’t let it run and hide,
write boldly love--without an asterisk.
I freely choose to put love into action,
by loving, I will give love lots of traction.

                      -- by Pete Voelz        12/27/11

Flying Without Wings

I cannot see you, Angel,
but I know that you are there;
you watch me in the dark of night
and in the sunlight's glare.

You look at me from pictures,
and in books I've met you too,
so even if I tried I couldn't
get away from you.

I've heard a lot about you
from the people that I trust;
I can't help but put my faith in you,
and so I know I must.

The Bible tells us there are lots
of angels just like you,
and Jesus vows you guard me,
so I know it must be true.

He says you stand in heaven
before His Father's face
and pray for little ones like me
to share in all His grace.

God's love entrusts me here to you,
and so I have to care
enough to show my gratitude
by greeting you in prayer.

So I pray to you, dear Angel,
when I see the morning light,
that you guide and guard me all day long
and when I sleep at night.

I'd recognize your face
if I could see it, so it seems,
for once on Guardian Angels Eve
I met you in my dreams.

So when I try to sense you here
but cannot find a trace,
I'll just set my sights on heaven
where I'll see you face to face.

We'll become the best of friends
while the angel choir sings,
and forever we together
will go flying without wings.

           -- by Pete Voelz         1999

God Is So Great

God is so great, what heroes He inspires,
for once you know one, how great is a saint,
how great God's Church, that such great saints it sires,
how petty, silly those who say God ain’t.
How great God's Son, Who came to save us all,
Who suffered, died, then rose and conquered death,
Who opened heaven's gate closed by the Fall,
Who loves us so He gave us His last breath.
How great God's Holy Spirit Who sanctifies,
giving God's grace to all in their own way,
offering the gift of faith before each dies,
helping each soul to heaven every day.
O God, so great, yet by some so reviled,
I'll take and give Your love, Your little child.

                               -- by Pete Voelz        4/09

(Dedicated to the famous Christopher Hitchins, who wrote:
“God Is Not Great” and who died a few weeks ago, 12/11.)

God's Pristine Routine

O God, original and ever new,
with routine, when we meet, always pristine,
like crisp new dollar bills, You crackle true,
and being with You never is routine.
We’re busiest when thinking all alone,
so too with You my mind is ever racing,
inspiring me, You make Your thoughts my own,
and in my soul, my ways Yours keep displacing.
But You don’t rest, O God, You want some action,
encouraging me, provoking me to move,
Your only force, the power of Your attraction,
my thoughts and words, You want my deeds to prove.
O pristine Lord, with routine never old,
freely I follow You as I am told.

                                  -- by Pete Voelz     12/21/11

All of Pete’s published poems are on
pmvoelz.blogspot.com

A Birthday Cake for Jesus

My Mom would bake a birthday cake
for Christmas Eve and Day
to set before the manger door
where baby Jesus lay.

What He'd not taste we wouldn't waste
cuz we wolfed it down ourselves,
except a piece that we'd release
for Santa and his elves.

But then I thought what Jesus taught--
'tis better to give than take,
so for Christmas cheer I'll make Him here
His very own birthday cake.

I won't make nice with the sugar and spice
and frosting that we eat--
no, it has to be a specialty,
a more spiritual kind of treat.

I'll cut eight shares to fit eight prayers
with parts of the manger scene,
and each piece will be a gift from me,
to match all with what they mean.

The first piece to make is of carrot cake
for the stable and the manger,
protecting Jesus with a prayer of good wishes
to show I'm really no stranger.

The next to bake is a jello cake
for the Christmas star so bright,
a thankful prayer to the baby there
for His coming this holy night.

The third so nice--a chocolate slice
for the fire to keep Him warm,
petitions of mine like clothes divine,
swaddling His tiny form.

Then a share I'll cut of banana nut
for the donkey and the ox,
in different ways our prayers of praise
ring out to the coming flocks.

Because the fifth one--a marbled bundt--
is for the shepherds who kneel in awe,
and their lambs will greet with a reverent bleat
the Little Lamb of God in the straw.

An angel food cake will make them quake
to angelic hymns outpoured;
and with a glorious song the angel throng
will glorify the Lord.

For number seven--German chocolate heaven--
like frankincense, gold and myrrh
from kings of three to a king so wee--
a majestic prayer of honor.

And then for the last a delicious repast
of strawberry shortcake sweet,
with Mary and Joseph a prayer of love
makes the birthday cake complete.

But a cake, it's true, has frosting too,
made up of tasty beads,
formed in a ring of celestial icing,
a rosary of good deeds.

On each Hail Mary a red raspberry
for acts of obedience,
with Our Father strips of chocolate chips
and Glory Be peppermints.

Then I will light some candles bright
for all of the sins I've done,
and to show that He has forgiven me,
Jesus blows out every one.

And I request the angels blest
to let baby Jesus wake,
so He'll smile to see the gift from me--
His spiritual birthday cake.

-- by Pete Voelz     1998

No Trembling

Why don’t I tremble when I talk to God?
He made the universe, the stars, the earth,
to shake in fear of Him should not seem odd,
Who set my soul and self before my birth.
Yet He’s a personal God that I address,
Who holds me in His palm with tenderest care,
Who asks that I His Godliness confess,
and finally His divinity to share.
He wants me personally Himself to know,
He orders me Him personally to love,
He hopes that I will personally serve Him so
He personally takes me to heaven above.
Why should I so in fear and trembling be
with One Who’s, oh, so personal with me?

                     -- by Pete Voelz      12/23/11

The Trillium Trinity

The Trillium Trinity Flower has three parts,
as live three Persons in the Trinity.
The Painted Trillium flashes red blazed hearts
inside its snow white petals' fleur de lis.
Each Trillium's three parts has three equal sites--
three petals, three leaves and three sepals too.
From large White Trilliums to the small Dwarf Whites,
three trinities in one great triple crew.
If Nodding Trilliums dangle 'neath their leaves,
and Drooping Trilliums lean and almost nod,
the Trillium Luteum's petal never grieves,
but stretches, gold and sweet, right up to God.
O God, You shower this Trinity Flower with threes
so we can see Your three in Thee with ease.

                               -- by Pete Voelz      2003

Faith and Miracles

When God makes me a little miracle,
my faith is strengthened for His next demand;
one first believes in them on principle,
then God does some--as much as one can stand.
Each time He sends a sign, my faith grows deeper,
then more and greater wonders I receive,
but with each one, the price grows ever steeper,
the more I see, the more I must believe.
God’s not outdone in generosity,
Christ did His miracles to really show
He was God then to those and now to me,
so I’d not just believe, but really know.
The miracles boost faith as their reward,
and then more miracles You send me, Lord.

                          -- by Pete Voelz     12/20/11

Knowing God

Since You, O God, know everything of me,
how much down here can I, Lord, know of You?
You’ve charted out to heaven our destiny,
and given us a book to guide us true.
You’ve left us with sufficient Revelation,
enough to know Your love and how to serve,
to know You in Your Son, His Incarnation,
Your Church He founded to our faith preserve.
There’s more in quiet prayer that’s so insightful,
when You converse with us with whispering voice,
and tell us of Yourself in ways delightful,
to know and love You better and rejoice.
O Spirit, I don’t have to fly to college,
to be inspired by all Your Godly knowledge.

                               -- by Pete Voelz      12/19/11

Galloping Gilias

The Gilia Flower gallops in the West.
(How many mustangs gobble up its blossom?)
It covers mountains--hillside, slope and crest.
(The Skyrocket Scarlet Gilia is awesome.)
The Downy Gilia desert sentinels
(in red, blue, pink, white, purple, orange or yellow)
have pentagon petals shaped like tubes or bells
(its rough stem makes it quite a sticky fellow).
The sixty kinds plus new varieties
(especially the Gilia called Prickly),
adapt to newer habitats with ease
(as Gilias create new hybrids quickly).
When God made galloping Gilias He smiled
(so fast His Gospel spread, though not so wild).

                             -- by Pete Voelz       2002

Infinity God

What does it mean that God is infinite?
What does it mean God loves me infinitely?
Just like the expanding stars He does not quit,
God’s love expands unto infinity.
God did not make me for the universe,
instead He made the universe for me,
and gave me power to make it better or worse,
with strength to use and a will to choose so free.
If God attends me constantluy up there,
He loves who He created me to be,
He coaxes me to visit Him in prayer,
and leads me to the heaven He made for me.
O infinite God Who loves with infinite love,
let’s be the team You’re always dreaming of.

                           -- by Pete Voelz      12/18/11

Love's Risk

Each kind of love involves a risk we take,

 the child who loves her parents risks correction,

what parents do not love kids for their sake,

yet risk with discipline their child's rejection?

Who has not risked in youth a broken heart

and felt the pain of risk when love’s rejected,

or has not risked for truth the tearing apart

a friendship that could not stand being corrected?

Love is a risk enough without the sex,

to risk the heart with lust is risk too much;

a blind love goes beyond what love expects,

for true love, it’s enough for hearts to touch.

Bad risks end mostly bad, good risks can win

when love sails far above the love of sin.

                     -- by Pete Voelz        12/16/11

Sudden Patience

My heart fails when I see Your sudden ways,

O patient God, Who strings along our life,

then strikes to bring a quick end to our days,

and cut the cord of life with death's sharp knife.

When, patient God, You take someone so young,

do they know the condition they are in,

the slender thread by which their life is hung

is cut, like Hamlet's dad, with every sin?

Sometimes God takes the young before they're old

enough to have the time to sin much more,

they also miss their chance for deeds of gold,

O patient God, mysterious to the core.

Let me be patient with You and Your care,

but most, like Boy Scouts, Lord, let me prepare.

                                      -- by Pete Voelz      2/10

Soul Crowd

How deep's my soul, that it can hold God too,
sometimes I think my soul cannot hold me,
it's not just time and past my soul can do,
nor that I sail beyond the stars and sea.
What's there and here that space and time can't hold?
What's then and now that only souls can share?
Some heights and depths originally ensouled
my heart explores without a then or there.
God's whispering breeze can silently steal in,
to plant the infinite seedlings of His love,
and sweep away the cedars of my sin,
to bring to real all I am dreaming of.
Go easy, God, with all You have allowed,
for You and I and my soul make a crowd.

                            -- by Pete Voelz      3/09

Meniscus Hibiscus

Preserve the uninhibited hibiscus  

to propagate proboscises prodigious  

in prodigal profusion so proliferous  

with showy shrubs of evergreen deciduous  

and rosy buds of velveteen floriferous.

Observe its large pink swanky Swamp Rose Mallow

share East Coast shores of brackish marshes shallow

with its white cousin Crimson-eyed Rose-Mallow

whose red or purple center so unsallow

is sim'lar to pink Halberd-leaved Rose-Mallow

in Midwest swamps or lawns or land left fallow.

Some forty cultivars of family Mallow

from China to U.S. by lake and hollow

include the Eastern Europe plant marshmallow

whose root first made confection sweet to swallow.

Conserve your haste, unhesitant hisbiscus;

your florid blossoms flit so fast they miss us;

your quick quotidian quota so capricious

denies our eyes your stamen's size ambitious

that three-inch crimson filament officious

with yellow anthers clinging avaricious 

as at the tip its five red styles rise vicious,

their dull dark scarlet centers so malicious

with short pink hairy borders raised to kiss us.

Reserve some time to scan the hibiscus petal,

when not rose, yellow, blue or other mettle,

the five bright orange-red two-inch wide ones settle

fused at the center like some scarlet kettle, 

their trumpet edges spread as if to peddle

 a song of long life strong like thin tong metal,

yet curved out meniscus-bent stamen and petal,

they last one day then roll up like some nettle.

Deserve we any more than this hibiscus?

Our lives, to us so thick, are thin, not viscous,

as we puff out ourselves bent so meniscus,

about as far as we can throw a discus.

Then in one lifetime's day sunset delicious

arrives to roll us up and then dismiss us.

Serve me so well no flower more than hibiscus,

each day they cause me pause and so judicious.

God made us the hibiscus repetitious

with beauty great but also so auspicious,

reminding us how fleeting are our wishes.

                        -- by Pete Voelz     2000

Long Dark Prayer

Christ, let me wash Your feet with my sad tears,
and gently dry them with my long dark prayer,
may I stop up Your ears from all the jeers
by flooding them with words of love and care.
Lord, let me close Your eyes before You die,
and bring Your sight and soul a shred of peace,
pull out the thorns and wipe Your red brow dry,
and bind Your side to make the blood flow cease.
I’ll kiss the clots from both Your wounded hands,
then gently pull the nails from out the cross,
and wrap Your cleaned up corpse with linen bands,
then bear away Your bones and mourn my loss.
Christ, for my sins Your blood You did outpour,
I’d do all this if I’d but sin no more.

                         -- by Pete Voelz       12/13/11

Master Trust

Why did God put me here instead of there?

Why did He make me now instead of then?

He could have made me any time or where,

why here and now is way beyond my ken.

Why was I born to Mom and Dad at last 

instead of all these people at the mall?

Why not in China or some time long past?

All part of our gross ignorance since the Fall.

God knows the answer to these whys of mine,

the purpose of my life that He has planned.

Can I trust in His mystery divine?

Shall I just put my faith in His strong hand?

Lord, You’re the Master of this mystery,

I’ll trust You and Your mastery of me.

                    -- by Pete Voelz        12/12/11

The Wax Begonia's Face

The wax begonia makes a face at me,
thrusts up its crimson shiney forehead wide,
sticks out its full red tongue for all to see,
as if to say I've nothing here to hide.
Out juts its stringy yellow stamen-nose,
a pair of pinkish broad-stretched squinty eyes.
What fearsome feelings 'neath this face repose,
what thoughts behind its all-defiant guise?
The bold begonia's face veils mystery,
as if some personality lurks buried there.
Might not all pretty flowers' faces be
a secret mask to us all unaware?
Just as the human face like some black hole
can mute the love and beauty of our soul.

                     -- by Pete Voelz         2000

Son Sun, Mom Moon

Son Sun, Mom Moon

Christ is the sun, and Mary is the moon,
we cannot see at day without the sun,
if Mary rules at night, Christ rules at noon,
for light at night, the moon’s the only one.
There is no challenge from the moon for light,
we sleep by night, we do our work by day,
but Mary’s moon reflects Christ’s sun at night,
and by His light, she shows at night the way.
‘Tis Christ the light we worship and adore,
her, by His light, we honor and revere,
His shining light shows us the way before,
when things get dark, she leads to Him down here.
To Christ, the Son, through Mary is our prayer,
we know our Mother’s moonlight leads us there.

                           -- by Pete Voelz      12/10/11

(Inspired by the full eclipse of the moon early this morning in
Thailand and here the beautiful full moon shining in my window.)

Personal Rose

A photograph of a rose
may not decompose,
but it will, I propose, son,
not do much for your nose.

For just seeing it rosier--
go ask the gardener, son--
it is best, you can be sure,
to meet a rose in person.

And to feel its curveture,
or get some scents of its allure, son,
don't go to the photographer,
just approach it in person.

So if it's really amour,
a picture would only worsen
what it means to your paramour
to meet roses in person.

   -- by Pete Voelz      2000

Ingredients of Care

God has all the ingredients of care,
He has a great infinity of love,
His Providence, providing everywhere,
has all the care mankind is dreaming of.
God cared for me or I'd have never been,
His gift of life is proof how much He cared,
He still loves me as much as He did then,
a home for me in heaven he has prepared.
God's always cared for me, He always will,
He's given me the same capacity,
no matter how I sin, He loves me still,
His mercy and forgiveness shelter me.
O God, all Your ingredients of care
with others, please, I pray You let me share.

                            -- by Pete Voelz       4/07

My Envies

The lilac swims in beauty,
its fragrance fills the air,
but it is stuck,
though with some luck
it might help someone care.

The lark looks a bit duller,
it doesn't smell so sweet,
but it can fly
the endless sky
and sing the day complete.

The shark claims all the ocean,
it grows to mamouth size,
it sees the sea
then looks at me
with those omnivorous eyes.

The fish and foul and flowers
seem fruitful, fresh and free,
still I discern
that they in turn
are envious of me.

For nature has decreed to end
their fleeting life so free,
while from kind heaven
I've been given
a whole eternity.

    -- by Pete Voelz      2002

God's Close Love

God’s love means He’s more near than far away;
it’s true He tends for fourteen billion years
the universe He made in just a day,
but He tends more my soul when it’s in tears.
Our world is just a toy with which He plays,
but never does He toy with my poor soul,
especially does He care for one who prays,
He takes my broken self and makes it whole.
The world and time will pass, His words will stay,
I too will stay in His infinity;
He hears and gently weighs each word I say,
He’ll pass up everything He’s made but me.
Finally will pass my sins, my feet of clay,
if I myself don’t stray too far away.

                      -- by Pete Voelz      12/6/11

Open-ended trust

I ask You, Lord, what am I going to do?
I need Your help, I come to You in prayer,
I’m hoping You can tell me something new,
how I can somehow get from here to there.
I pray You, Lord, what would You have me do?
It’s not I need to follow Your commands,
I’ll go on pause and put my trust in You,
instead of doing, I’ll place it in Your hands.
If I do everything You want me to,
and leave it open-ended, You know best,
but pray a lot You help me muddle through,
I’ll trust You’ll find a way I pass this test.
“Let go, let God,” I have been taught to say,
so I will trust You to show me the way.

                       -- by Pete Voelz      12/5/11

Tickseed Stars

The tickseed, bright perennial, comes each year,

its yellow lanceolate blossoms small,

some spring to early summer will appear,

while others wait for mid-summer to fall.

Both wild and garden varieties can be found,

good for floral arrangements or outside;

despite abundant flowers eight petals around,

its deep green bushy foliage cannot hide.

It likes the hot dry season and full sun,

and so needs lots of H2O to grow;

its hardy and free-flowering florets run

acclimatized to an East Coast tableau.

If sunflowers spread their large gold blooms by day,

the small sunflower-like tickseed colors flame

against their olive boughs in ricochet

and put nocturnal twinkling stars to shame.

Does God gaze at our dark and fallen world

to relish sparkling tickseed souls aglow

with all their virtuous beauty full unfurled,

a coreopsis verticillata show?

                         -- by Pete Voelz        2003

No Lovelier Love

No Lovelier Love

There is no lovelier way to love than Yours,
of all the ways we choose to love down here;
You, God, are love, and all Your love endures,
so it's Your love that I shall volunteer.
If I must love, let it be like Yours, Lord,
and I must love if I'm to really live,
with love like Yours, I never will get bored,
for Your exciting love I'll love to give.
I choose to love, yet love at Your command,
for what is truly love but to obey?
You planned my love, yet too I love unplanned,
for love obeyed is unplanned ricochet.
O Lord, I live to love just like You do,
for I shall love no lovelier love than You.

                                  -- by Pete Voelz      2/10

Flower Colors

"My luve is like a red, red rose . . ."  -- Robert Burns

I wonder who assigned red to the rose,
the blackeyed Susan's black, the bluebell's blue?
Whence dawns the white while wild the whitebeam grows,
the pale pink gloss that paints the moss pink's hue?

Does not the yellow trumpet swell her color
from yellow insects who would win her nectar,
like some firefly just dropping by to gull her
she traps to bite before it might suspect her?

So how do other floral colors flood
from similar seeds with equal needs to grow?
Do tiger lillies kill to swill hot blood
while Easter lilies feast on chilly snow?

And so what if a flower turns different hues,
the stem and plumes grow green while blooms blow blue?
Why does the parrot tulip share and fuse
its yellow leaves with red-streak sleeves askew?

Do blooms galore arise before their name?
Or come to exist after their christening?
Do lady killers plot to fill their fame?
Or dew drops list their birth by glistening?

How does God settle on a petal's blush?
Does He let Mother Nature smother all,
or, God-like, draw His artist's awesome brush
and paint each particle through art so small?

So where do all these myriad colors start?
You can't get water from a pot that's dry.
The bloodroot's bud bursts from His flooding heart,
the goldenrod's bright glow shows God's own eye.

The orchid's joyful purple royalty,
the lemon lily's yellow spilling light,
the bugle's boyish blue for loyalty,
the Christmas rose with pure clothes so white.

These color qualities are all of One
Who paints His clever spectrum everywhere,
 a riot of zestful dyes and festive fun  
 that beam out proud and scream out loud His care.


With cherry plum He plants hope from above,
  the sweet pea's charm to help us harmonize,
the crimson glory vine the more to love,
the bird of paradise our fairest prize.

You see God there with utmost care at work
to shape the belladonna's shell and tone,
the monkshood's power, the monkey flower's smirk,
the crosswort's love reflective of His own.

The laurel's white, the buttercups bright, and more,
the myrtle's blue, the lilac's too we see,
the honeydew He's willing to outpour,
and love-lies-bleeding's red all shed so free.

You wonder Who assigned red to His rose,
whose molecules all His own rules control?
A rainbow new, His prism beauty flows
like God's great grin from deep within His soul.

                    -- by Pete Voelz       2001

Free to Love

God wants our love and so He made us free,
our freedom thus makes no sense otherwise;
this freedom often seems a mystery,
except when love and sin we exercise.
Love is our use of freedom to obey,
when we, as free, choose to respect God's law;
if not, we sin, and there's a price to pay--
that evil comes when we lose fear and awe.
For knowledge of God's greatness makes us fear,
just as to know His goodness makes us love;
a healthy fear to not hurt One so dear,
and love that brings His favor from above.
Such drama shows that freedom flows both ways,
though more is won from God by one who prays.

                                  -- by Pete Voelz        7/07