Michael D. Bobo

freelance writer

RAW: A Poetic Journey


I did not fully realize what I signed up for when I submitted my work to a poetry contest. I failed to read the fine print. I'm glad I did.

My first two published poems are in RAW: A Poetic Journey edited by Aimee Maude Sims with a forward by Jennifer Knapp. My public writing journey began with a piece on Burnside that discusses Knapp's lesbian lifestyle entitled "Protestant Planks: A Lesson in Grace." It is divinely ironic that she introduces a book that has two of my poems. RAW is what I have been for a long time. My life has been truly unorthodox so when I read the contest guidelines for real prayers and heart cries, I knew that I needed to be among them.

A perusal through the list of contributors reveals a group of men and women whose faith has carried them through some very hard times. Despite the raw and unorthodox nature it possesses, they cling to a good God who loves. His love is so vast and variegated that it encompasses the fringes. Jesus came for the outcasts, and I believe he would be named among these, too. For his mission reaches into the broken places. And such are we.

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tears for my creation

A humble expression of God's perspective on Creation
by Michael D. Bobo

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Peering down from atop the world,
I see creation like no other.
The beauty takes even My breath away.
How is it that My creatures fail to see?

There is bliss to be found in a flower.
I created the intricacies of the deep ocean,
the vast expanse of the heavens,
the majestic valleys and awesome peaks.

For the joy of  My creatures,
for healing,
for delight in a child's eyes,
for love between Me, My Son and My Spirit.

Tears for my creation.


Yet I am labeled a cruel Deity?
Castigated, rejected, abused.
Some claim I hate and so should they.
Some deny My very being.

In the midst of chaos who hears the cries for aid?
Who comforts the downcast?
Who is in the eye of the storm?
Who has been there all along?

I feel the pain that none other feels,
the ache that longs for My creatures.
Come to Me All who labor.
I have come to give you rest.

Tears for my creation.

I am Peace.
The Shalom.
The Wholeness.
The Holy One.

I am Life.
The Source.
The Keeper.
The Sustainer.

I am Love.
The Lover of all souls.
Self-less sacrifice.
Omnipresent grace.

Tears for my creation.

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Now on Burnside: cleansed

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My third published poem "cleansed" is now on Burnside. In it I poetically envision the healed leper's perspective once he realizes that Jesus' touch has cleansed him from all disease. I welcome your comments there.

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fear

Too many unknowns
How can I find my way
I see the future through an opaque lens
overwhelming my sensibilities

They tell me I have hope
I can be somebody
Live another day
Have another chance

Despair clouds vision
If only there would be
If only I could have new eyes
a new mind

But I fear
body tenses
shallow breaths
pulse soars

Restless, sleepless
gazing at the ceiling
waiting, thinking
dreams would be a sweet relief

I look to the sky
Deliver me from me
Dear God
hear my plea

And then something happens
an awakening
a light
in darkness

My fears are my food
ingest life
imbue hope
instill truth

There is salvation
in fear
through fear
You my God

I see clearly
the cross You bore for me
in Your fears
through Your fears

And I have a newfound assurance
I now can fear
You Yahweh
my Deliverer

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God is (from two perspectives)

Atheism?
God is dead.
We cower.
God is absent.
We doubt.
God is violent.
We divide.
God is hate.
We discriminate.
God is fear.
We attack.
God is powerless.
We loiter.
God is irrational.
We debate.
God is irrelevant.
We silence.

or


A Theism?
God is living.
We testify.
God is here.
We believe.
God is peace.
We unite.
God is love.
We embrace.
God is secure.
We shelter.
God is power.
We go forth.
God is reasonable.
We dialog.
God is essential.
We proclaim.

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Now on Burnside: A Prodigal Embrace

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My second poem is currently on Burnside. In "A Prodigal Embrace" I explore the mind of the Father in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. I relate so much more to this parable now that I have a son. My father used to use the cliche, "This hurts me more than it hurts you." I now understand what he means and on a cosmic scale how the Father's heart aches for his children.

I always love Rembrandt's "Return of the Prodigal Son." I hope to capture just a glimpse of this in my work although I could never imagine being able to equal the Dutch master in emotive quality.

If you missed my first poem, you can read it here.

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Now on Burnside: pierced

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I have a poem on Burnside about God's love entitled "pierced." Please read it here and comment as you feel led. This is one of the more vulnerable pieces that I have written, but I really feel that it may resonate with others who are likewise amazed at the power of God's gracious pursuit of us.

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The Logoed Mirror

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Seeing you on my TV right now.
How many outlets,
how many photo documentaries, paparazzi . . . madness?
Can we handle this?
My soul aches.
My mind wanders, wonders.
You - the face of a gossip hungry nation.
You - the hero that we all admire.
And yet, I aspire to be a hero.
A hero to my family, my friends, myself.
Could it be? A celebrity?
What kind of hero, may I be?
Certainly not the one who gloats,
the one who seeks the fame, the money, the freedom . . .
The one who needs you like I need you right now.
I see myself looking in a mirror with a Sony logo on it.
The celebrity I despise is my own reflection
American Idol, idle my oh my.
Why do I want this?
How can I be a hero?
I would be a heroic celebrity.
yeah, I would not compromise.
I would not waffle at the tough questions.
false confidence.
self-reflection reveals this interwoven dependency.
I need you looking back at me right now
to show me what I can be -
only better.
Maybe, it is time to start today
to be the hero I need to be?
a faithful husband
a patient father
a hero
a celebrity at home
to those who see me as a hero.
Selah.

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