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Previous Challenge Entry
Topic: Failure (03/01/04)

TITLE: Your Name
By Dave Wagner
03/01/04

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Under waves that tower overhead
My eyes look up beyond the rolling surf
My muffled voice suppressed, I'm left for dead
As hands of blackness push me toward the earth
And as a stone, I sink from life itself
My final thought, Your name, I need Your help...

I knew You well, so long ago it seems
A time when I would feel so close to You
A time that now lives only in my dreams
O for those days when light was all I knew
I pulled myself away, I know not why
My only thought, Your name, O hear my cry...

I fear I might not be there in the end
Too easily distracted, I succumb
To amateur temptations, once again
I lay there as one blinded, deaf and dumb
O Father, give me strength to rise and stand
My only strength, Your name, I need your hand...

O will I ever be convinced that sin
Is not a friend, it offers only death
Why is it that I only see this when
In weakness and in darkness I regress
Discouraged and disgusted, I deflate
My only hope, Your name, myself I hate...

To stand before Your throne of holiness
In robe of white, iniquities confessed
My muddied feet are clean, no more a mess
My inner transformation a success
No longer bound in sins' constricting hold
And on my head, Your name, 'till time untold.


Member Comments
Member Date
Christine Rhee03/08/04
I loved the pattern of the refrain at the end of each stanza, and the last line itself was especially beautifully alliterated and worded. Well done.
Corinne Smelker 03/08/04
Dave, you surely are a multi-talented man! This poem is beautiful, filled with wonderful alliteration, and extremely poignant. Truly great! (Kinda reminds me of Wilfred Owen, an English poet who wrote in and of WWI, he died on the fields of France)
KAREN FASIG03/08/04
Dave, great job! The transition from unforgiven sinner to unblemished child through no work of our own comes through.
Margaret Reed03/08/04
Beautiful poem. Although this line (I fear I might not be there in the end) seems somewhat akward, I think it's the word 'there'.
Dave Wagner03/09/04
Thanks for the kind words, all.

Karen, thanks for pointing out the hole in the poem. I should add a stanza that hits on our part. I didn't mean to give the impression that the trip from 'sinner' to 'robe of white' was "through no work of our own." That was an unfortunate oversight on my part.

Rev 19:7-8 "...Let us be glad and rejoice and give Him glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and His wife has made herself ready." And to her it was granted to be arrayed in fine linen, clean and bright, for the fine linen is the righteous acts of the saints.
Donna Anderson03/09/04
This is one you need to read aloud....again and again and again! Beautiful.
Lynne Cox03/12/04
I don't know why it is, but when I regress I see myself as the sinner I am, too. This poem shows a good mastery of words and emotions. I enjoyed it.
Jean Bremer03/13/04
Excellent job! This poem so well explains how lonely sin can really feel.
Nita Frazier03/13/04
I love the scene where the sinner cries out to God without actually using His name.
Linda Germain 03/13/04
To Dave's Two-Edged Pen:

You cut and paste
Wound and prune,
You're mightier than the sword.

You stop or start
A Poet's heart,
Sometimes to cry ,but
never to be bored!



Linda Germain 03/14/04
Meaning: the same pen used as a surgical knife to critique, also lays bare the heart of a creative and expressive soul...tears for both. *Merci
Dave Wagner03/14/04
What a kind thing to do/say. Thank you, Linda.