The Rhythm Changer

Moving about my day

to my own beat and to time

my hands to work I may

to keep the rhythm of my rhyme.

Day to day its kept

my heart was beating fine

'til in my life you stepped

I saw my world was never mine.

Now I dance about my day

twirling to a tune

with lyrics I can’t say

but smell sweet like a perfume.

Moving about my day

to your beat and to your time

hands work is Kingdom play

face set, my heart sublime.

"RhythmChanger" is a favorite poem of mine by Sarah Faith. You’ll find her with a thought in her head, a Bible in her purse and a song in her heart. She is a woman of struggle and a friend of God.

Read her Blog at and follow her on Twitter @GoolahGirl! I do!

:: Poem reprinted with permission. Original Post here. :: 

Perfect Piles. The Limerick of a Retail Associate

Round Clothes folded square,

Perfect Piles Everywhere.

Customer enters when day is done,

You touch my Piles you will get Stung!

My Tumblr Girl

Soaring Vistas.

Tiny Treasures.

A Braid of Hair.

The Innocent Heart.

Placed within a dusky blue frame

only by a scroll bar tamed

(“tamed” is slightly.)

My eye does see

inspiration lightly.

Before the end of week:

Girl in Green dress

washing restaurant hands.

"Where’s your forest breeze?"

I ask, her beauty I do see.

We long for models’ life of ease

yet in contentment, our soul’s appeased.

A moment to breathe 

and so we become

the model ourself

yet we are undone.

A picture “self-admired”

is “over-aware” I know;

Only looking outward

do we radiate our glow.

For a mountain was made to look at.

Self-preen, that it does not.

So live your life in contentment

And enjoy the “Forget-me-nots.”

Tumblr changed the way I look at the world. I see so many beautiful girls who don’t know it, it breaks my heart. This poem is for you. <3 

The Richest Pauper

I’m looking for my Pauper 

in a dark and dreary land.

He has no place to rest, 

His feet covered in sand. 

He’s nothing for himself

but everything to give,

He didn’t come to condemn

He counts sins in a sieve.

He owns the whole world

but He hasn’t a bed; 

No title or position 

but they want Him dead.

If Caesar was before Him

He would not be impressed,

It was Caesar’s birth 

that He Himself blessed. 


It may seem as if

they made Him to die,

Yet it was His own choice

He let them crucify.

Beaten, Battered, Bloodied.

Thrashed, Smashed, & Ripped.

Then He crawled up a hill

of His very own will,

Laid His arm on a beam

and put breath in the soul

that tried to nail God

to an earthen, wooden will.


All cursed be

those who hang on a tree,

True Love and Sacrifice

He allowed us to see.

For the Mayans, Aztecs,

and Incas all knew:

Only atonement with 

Human Blood would do.

But there’s no heart so pure

among our dirty race

that can appease a Holy God

for our sins disgrace.


I can’t speak for you

but I know I suck,

If it weren’t for my Friend Jesus,

We’d all be out of luck. 


I’m looking for my Pauper

He’s the richest man I know,

for He’s the only one

who has redeemed my soul. 

Psychedelic Sky

Dark and yet bright
the oceanhood sky
heavy cargo tanker, white
skiff passes by.
Windy and peaceful
the waves trickle on
while rain pours down heavy
way farther yon.

White, grey and blue
to dark gray and navy,
the suncatchers
do not me this day envy.
Salt brushes my nose
and yet does it rest:
the hanging rope fence
around wilderness.

Great big ole cruiser!
off to the right.
Why would I want
to travel so trite?
I’d rather lose my way
off the beaten path
rustle up adventure,
ride the aftermath.

Give me my freedom,
don’t tie me down.
I wish to find
the pelican’s sound.

Meg Davis, January 29th, 2012