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Angels Wings


A Song In The Night

Clouds softly move across the blue heavens.

Hummingbirds flutter as they drink nectar.

Oceans wash against the sandy shores,
our footprints left till tomorrow.

Angels stand tall with swords drawn.

They guide your every move.

Mountains though high and steep,
leaving only traces,
can only begin to describe the wonder of you.

A song in the night sings a sweet lullaby,
my mind soothed into angelic slumber.

Sweet dreams float like butterflies,
flitting through my mind.

God holds you firmly and lovingly forever.

So do I!

Written And Copyright ©2003 Sybil G Shearin




Angel Slippers

It was a cold winters day and I was sitting by the fire.
The logs were popping and cracking flames licking up through the air.
Snow peppered down like tiny feathers swirling to the ground.
The winds howled and moaned an eerie like sound.
But I was drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows so tasty and sweet.
I had soft warm pajamas and furry footies on my pampered feet.
The lights flickered on and off, as the winds continued to blow.
I could see from the window, we were going to have a lot of snow.
I turned the pages slowly reading a long awaited book.
It was then my eyes caught the image of someone trying to sneak a look.
Who could be out in weather such as this my mind began to think?
I must have been mistaken I reasoned taking another sip of my warm drink.
My eyes were playing tricks on me that was easy for me to assume.
So I settled back on the sofa as my eyes surveyed the room.
It was then I thought I heard a faint whimpering sound.
I stood and looked outside the window but nothing was to be found.
The limbs of the trees were scratching against the old cabin's tin roof.
It must have been them I thought, making a very logical proof.
Then my attention was drawn to the cabins front door.
A faint tap tap and then I heard nothing more.
I waited quietly staring into the flames of the red and orange fire.
Then I heard another tap tap tap and a sound much like that of a crier.
I dropped the book onto the floor and rushed to see who could be outside.
As I opened the door a child look up, her blue eyes so big and wide.
Oh my Darling, you are frozen, please let me get you inside.
I picked up the frozen child and placed her near the fire.
She had no coat nor hat nor gloves, only a small child's attire.
Her lips trembled as I wrapped her in blankets oh so soft.
I hurried to get something warm to drink hoping to quench her raspy cough.
I watched as she took the cup and touched it to her lips.
Her hands were frozen and blue right down to her fingertips.
Where did you come from I finally asked for I could not help but know.
How anyone would allow a small child to wander out into the snow.
She looked into my eyes just the way an angel would.
"I just wanted to spend some time with you when my Daddy said I could."
But where do you live there are no houses anywhere near here?
"I live in my room most of the time but Christmas is so near.
Daddy let me come out of my room why he drank his beer."
My stomach ached inside as she told me about her life.
How could someone do such a thing to his child not to mention his battered
Well you shall stay with me for a while so don't you fret my dear.
I'll take good care of you I said as I brushed away a tear.
We slept on the rug by the fireplace that night.
As I drifted off to sleep, I could feel her tiny arms holding me real tight.
Morning dawned, the winds had stopped and the sun broke through the clouds at
I reached to gather my new found friend but found only her slippers, made of
rubies, diamonds, gold and brass.
And upon her pillow still damp from her long flowing hair
Was one angel's feather just waiting for me there.

Written by : Sybil Shearin (c) 11-2002
Given by The Son


The Master's Plan

He was a tall well endowed single man, his long brown hair to his shoulders.
Ladies heads turned as he danced to the music his muscles flexed like boulders.
He was the picture of the perfect male designed to perfection.
His dark eyes sparkled and danced to the crowds eager affection.

But I could see into the soul of this young handsome man.
The God who created the universe was about to direct a change of plans.
Darkness gripped this young man's tender yet masculine soul.
He would never again be under Lucifer's control.

With alcohol on his breath and his soul in agony and depression
He forgot to stop at a red light; this was his much later honest confession.
Burdened with a yoke that only God could break
An eighteen wheeler smashed into this young man's car; was death his fate?

His brain was damaged and his face a bloody sight.
Not even the doctor's could give a hopeful prognosis that night.
But God's plans would not be turned
This young man survived despite the doctor's spurn.

Day after day his strength returned and he was soon able to speak.
What he told was truly amazing and beautifully unique.
He told of seeing Jesus and touching the Master's precious face.
He told of being wonderfully happy in this heavenly place.

Today I saw him three years later by chance.
As we talked in that restaurant my soul and spirit danced.
For I too had seen Jesus in an out of body experience.
We both had at different times seen this timeless existence.

I'm proud to say he is telling others about the One whose face he touched.
I'm also sure Jesus is proud of this young man testimony so much.
Life is like a vapor and it is gone like the winds.
When death comes calling where will your soul be when eternity begins?

Written by Sybil Shearin
Saved by the Son
(c) 6-13-2003


Another Angel Has Gone Home

I knew him as a tall man who loved his country so.
He wasn't ashamed to let everyone know.
His heart ached when he thought of one soldier lost.
Not only was he proud of his country but He was proud to be a Christian regardless of the cost.

I am a poet and a writer who pens words of art.
I am not a veteran but I am proud to be just a small part
The part who loves his fellow man as a sister and a brother.
Let Michael's memory live in our hearts and mind's like no other.

He was an example that we all can follow.
He was The Tall Texan and now he flies with the angels far past earthly swallows.
He was truly my friend and I will miss him so.
I'm sure his works will still continue to show.

Lord build a special mansion for our missing angel I plea.
Allow him to look over the balcony of heaven and see
We are wearing his tall boots and saluting the American flag still.
Let him see we are still worshiping Jesus and doing God's will.

When I close my eyes at the end of the day.
Let me see his big smile when I kneel down to pray.
Keep him and all the others in perfect love until
The Word of God has been completed and all prophecy fulfilled.

Written by Sybil Shearin
(c) 6-8-2003
All Rights Reserved
Waiting for The Son!


Rivers of Love

The honeysuckle blossoms send their romantic aroma through the air.
I lie here looking into the clouds wishing I were with you there.
I watch the honey bees busy collecting pollen sweet.
It reminds me of you holding me and they way my heart skips a beat.

In my eyes you are perfection in every single way.
I can see God molding you in His likeness out of a single piece of clay.
He knew exactly how to fill your heart with compassion, gentleness and love.
He knew this because He reached into His own chest and removed a portion I am so unworthy of.

My heart beats with love so deep and so true.
I wish with all my heart I belonged only to you.
The ripples of the river remind me of years gone by.
When together in this spot you and I would lie.

Your eyes were as dark as glistening pieces of coal.
Your hair curled around my fingers as we listened to the music of rock and roll.
You hand were ever so gentle as were you kisses soft against my lips.
My mind was captured by you and my spirit spun out of control like the sun in total eclipse.

No matter where you go, I'll be there for you.
No matter how long, my love will remain true.
As the stars twinkle in the darkest sky.
My love for you will never die.

Written by Sybil Shearin
(c) 6-2003
All Rights Reserved
Loved by The Son.


The Unborn Children

My hands touched his tiny fingers ever so fair.
My eyes beheld God's creation with care.
He was only five months in my pregnancy you see.
An infection robbed my precious baby from me.

I wanted so to kiss him goodbye
But the nurses took him from me with a heartfelt sigh.
They said they send the fetus to find out why it died.
It wasn't a fetus to me and for my precious baby I cried.

I have no grave to visit and spend some time.
They never returned my jewel divine.
I can't place flowers upon his grave.
A fetus is not a baby and is not therefore saved.

What did they do with my precious little one?
God planted this seed to become my darling little son.
I live with the hope I will see him again.
My faith in Jesus is built solid and strong, not on shifting sand.

Though I miss him today and I remember his pale little face.
I know I shall see him again because of God's amazing grace.
I just wish doctors and politicians could see.
It wasn't a fetus, but a baby to me.

It seems professionals are becoming distant to all human emotions.
They graduate with honors but treat patients as consumers detached from all care and devotion.
What is the price of one tiny little stillborn baby boy?
Why do they call them a fetus and instead wash their hands of God's little blessings of joy?

In the distance I hear heavens vast rumbling sounds.
I see the dark skies and I hear the thunder rolling pounds.
One day soon God is going to say ,"Enough is Enough!"
The penalty for ignoring human life I fear will be mighty tough!

Written by Sybil Shearin
All Rights Reserved
(c) 5-2003
Waiting for The Son!



Till The Angels Come

She stood gracefully a wisp of her perfume floating
like a floral bouquet through the air.
Tasteful touches of embroidery and beading embellished her ruffled
Victorian inspired dress with perfect care.
The light pink color she loved so much reflected against
her dark brown hair cascading graciously over her
feminine shoulders.
She was standing quietly watching the tide come in
wetting her tanned feet and splashing upon the huge
historic boulders.
She knew she had only weeks to live.
How could I let her go for she possessed
so much love still to give.
She was like an angel perfectly created
with God as the anchor of her will.
My heart was heavy already for the thoughts
of losing her was an unending torture to me.
Yet her soft green eyes filled with love
pleaded for me to come and see.
It was the last time Nerissa’s eyes would
see the earth’s ocean blue.
She said “Hold me till the angels come
and safely carry me through!”
Our salty tears mixed as I promised
I would hold her until she took hold of Jesus hand.
Another angel was welcomed home
and all heaven rejoiced
as my Nerissa’s feet stepped into the Promised Land

Written by Sybil Shearin
Anchored by The Son
Copyrighted 5-20-2003
All Rights Reserved..


Whose Hand?

Darkness thick covers me
I can't see,nor find my way.
Life has no meaning, too many doors
I have no skeleton key.
Hunger never comes
and weakness visits to the bone.
Tears wet my pillow.
Quickly my pains are hushed.
I care not about this mortal flesh.
It brings me only pain.
Life becomes a mocking thrush.
The fragrance of the rose catches my attention.
Death pulls at my mind.
It is cold and I'm so alone.
Then a hand reaches
It grabs in calm prevention.
Whose hand is it?
I wonder!

Written by Sybil Shearin
(c) 2-2003