Poetry
Read poetry and inspirational texts on the sights and sounds of Israel and the Holy Places where salvation history was made.
- Details
- Written by Ariel Ben Ami
- Category: Poetry
One warm summer day, a wise tortoise met a young hare who seemed to be in a great hurry. The hare told him: "Would you like to be my friend? Come with me. Let's travel together and go on a great adventure." The tortoise, a bit surprised at such enthusiasm, only hesitated for a moment before answering in good faith: "Sure, with pleasure!"
- Details
- Written by Ariel Ben Ami
- Category: Poetry
Beloved one and friend, jittering, I called you. In my very hometown, I sought your face and found you. You asked me, and I came, at no small risk, with trembling. A tender heart aflame, open to you and trusting.
- Details
- Written by David Andrews-Brown
- Category: Poetry
From Herod’s stronghold heights, a Remnant watched, as Silva’s legion circled them in vain. Across the changing hues of water far below, they looked with memory at Moab’s hills, secure as even Moses could not be, for they were here in Judah’s field.
Add a comment- Details
- Written by David Andrews-Brown
- Category: Poetry
No film director’s dream, this Galilean town: an ordinary place. Do you think I put it down? Why, no! It is to ordinary men he came, to share their ordinary lives, that they might be his kith.
Add a comment- Details
- Written by David Andrews-Brown
- Category: Poetry
There is a stillness where perspective lies, where life and love are tapped, and ancient scrolls unrolled. See, the herald flame proclaims anew the healing safety of this day, and bids the Chosen learn.
Add a comment- Details
- Written by David Andrews-Brown
- Category: Poetry
“The slopes and trees of Nazareth are here in Judah’s hills, a sight familiar, as is she whom I have come to see. “With Child, as I, we share a single joy, in laughter and in tears; in silent wonder.
Add a comment- Details
- Written by David Andrews-Brown
- Category: Poetry
Nigh pristine still, these ancient stones arrest the sons of Abraham, and bid them weep, for they have lost their calling: the house they held aloft is swept away as once its builder’s nation was, and grief is here enshrined.
Add a comment- Details
- Written by David Andrews-Brown
- Category: Poetry
Flanked by high Golan, Against the Syrian dawn, You mirror Galilean hills, And mingle with the Jordan As it bides with you awhile. Still lapping Caesar’s quay And green Kinneret’s plain, Your waters carry Ephraim again, recalling Simon and his friends.
Add a comment
