God Bother

Christ is my Brother and for me He died,
God made Creation and He is my Father,
the Holy Spirit is Love personified,
a Trinity of love, so I must bother.
O God, You do intend to bother me,
with eyes of faith, I see You everywhere,
with constant interplay, O Trinity,
You pray I, faithful, bother You in prayer.
This bothers me a lot, as well it should,
Your constant presence finds me thinking of
how I must bother more about how good
I should be and so grant You love for love.
“O bother,” I say like old Win thePooh,
You bother me, Lord, so I’ll bother You.

                    -- by Pete Voelz       3/06/12

Impossible God

Old  Sarah bore a babe though very old,
old ‘Lizabeth too, so that was not so odd,
a virgin was with child by God so bold,
“for nothing is impossible with God.”*
Sometimes I pray for some impossible thing,
so I persist by trusting in the Lord,
then by some sweet surprise He makes me sing,
in some odd way He gives me my reward.
Old Sarah and Elizabeth and Mary
got pregnant by old Abe and Zach and God
in ways that seem to us not ordinary,
but not to God impossible or odd.
I’ll pray like Abe and Zach and Mary too,
for nothing is impossible, Lord, with You.

*Words of Gabriel to Mary at the Annunciation

(Dedicated to friends for a longtime impossible
prayer just answered in an odd way, so they said.)

                            -- by Pete Voelz     3/06/12

Free Faith

If God revealed Himself to me much more,
He'd kill the faith He wants so freely given;
if He showed me what I am destined for,
what would be left for me to merit heaven?
Much more of God would overpower me,
He measures just enough what I can take;
this world He limits to what I can see,
He does not show too much for my own sake.
My freedom would be gone if He told all,
without a struggle, there's no world to win;
without some doubt, why would I bide His call?
Temptation gone, there'd be no test to sin.
God, I must trust that You best call the shots,
I still can choose to love You lots and lots.

                             -- by Pete Voelz        4/08

God's Nearness

God is more near than He is far away,
more than the farthest star He cares for me,
more than a billion years He cares today,
stars die, not I with my eternity.
God loves His universe, He called it good,
but He loves most its pinnacle of man.
Did He make us the best thing that He could?
With infinite love, He loves us best He can.
He stamped His face on us the most of all,
He loves us more than any other thing,
He picks us up the many times we fall,
of all creation He has made us king.
You live in me more than in any star,
O God, may I love You more near than far.

                           -- by Pete Voelz      7/09

Fickle Faith

I love You, God, but only when I want,
yet, faithful God, You love me all the time,
my fickle faith in You is nonchalant,
Your endless faith in me is most sublime.
My aimless love is whimsical and breezy,
Your loyal love is steely, steady, true,
I only want to love You when it's easy,
especially when it's hard, Your love comes through.
About Your love and grace I'm vaguely curious,
I might not know for sure 'til my last breath,
while with them You are supernaturally serious,
You proved to me Your love is life and death.
O God, please help there be some symmetry
between my love for You and Yours for me.

                               -- by Pete Voelz      9/09

God Songs

O God, may all the songs I sing to You
be beautiful and pleasing to Your ear,
may every word be registered as true,
and flow so free Your grace to me down here.
For this short time You've given me a voice
to sing in praising You as best I can,
each day, each Mass, each song I sing a choice,
to waste it or to blast it once again.
If my song sounds quite nice, it matters not,
I'll sing so long as I can do my part,
You want me just to use the voice I've got,
the song You truly wish is from my heart.
To sing my best for You, Lord, I aspire,
auditioning here to join Your heavenly choir.

                           -- by Pete Voelz           6/09

A Flower's Poem

What kind of poem can a flower make?
The wallflower has no paper to write on,
the leadwort has no pencil point to break,
the chalk plant has no letters to be drawn.
What topic would the hyacinth proclaim?
What themes would pretty peonies propose?
What rhythms could the fairy-slippers frame?
What rhymes could be rewritten by a rose?
The catmint's purple blossoms have a lilt,
the cowslip's yellow petals almost sing,
while rosy cranesbill corollas, blushing, tilt,
the wolfbane's blended colors mutually ring.
An orchid needs no poetic words or books,
its poetry stems from just the way it looks.

                          -- by Pete Voelz       2001