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Don’t leave me behind
while you find your way
don’t leave me alone
please please stay.

Don’t freeze me out
leave me with not
give me your love
I will try to take care.

Please don’t abandon
stay by my side
give me your hand
I need it to thrive.

Help me to grow
aid me this day
stay close to me
please don’t go away.

By: Beverly Beekmans (Nov. 2011)


When evil comes knocking
On life’s revolving door,
Don’t give in to temptation,
Lift your hands and Praise the Lord.

When joy lifts you up
Til you can’t take any more,
Don’t forget to be thankful,
Raise your hands and Praise the Lord.

When the days rush by
Or on those which find you bored,
Give a nod above,
Lift your hands and Praise the Lord.

When counting your blessings
Make sure not to horde,
Do things for others then,
Raise your hands and Praise the Lord.

By Beverly Beekmans July 2011
(inspired by a sermon given this past Sunday by Pastor Dave Bayduza)

Grinning like a Cheshire cat

in your fancy downtown flat

leaving me on your welcome mat

wishing I had a wooden bat

to squash you like a weasely rat

for denying your part in this belly fat

protectively I give the growing bump a pat

I loath how you can be like that

I turn to leave with a tip of my hat

Never again to fall for such a lousy gnat.

By: Beverly Beekmans (2011)

Clinging to the past with an iron grip,
holding close the memories of pain,
waiting for my life to slip,
for trouble to find me again.

Then justify the path I take,
with indignities of old,
I did it all for anothers sake,
simply did as I was told.

What blame can be placed upon me?
as I hold onto ancient wrongs,
what harm could there truly be?
as my bitter heart weeps it’s songs.

Shall I forget the pain I bore?
should I forgive their deeds?
what about my heart that tore?
the neglect of my needs?

You say there is another way?
someone who wants to set me free?
who does not want my pain to stay?
so he died upon a tree?

That letting go of actions past,
will help for me to thrive,
and grudges overdue to cast,
will help me feel alive?

A box had been created,
to store up all my woes,
a long time now I’ve waited,
sought revenge upon my foes.

Weary now my body feels,
my heart it seems to ache,
I think now it’s time it heals,
these wounds are ripe to take.


By: Beverly Beekmans (2011)

Between the light of morning’s dawn,
stirs within a passion strong,
to find a way to capture thee,
while life’s diversions draw on me.

Images flicker upon a screen,
sunny glare creates a sheen,
mind entangled with story’s plot,
never a moment for focused thought.

Your presence comprises all we see,
from rocky hill to towering tree,
though as I glide upon life’s flight,
seldom do I perceive your light.

Blossoming within my soul,
young and frail like a newborn foal,
a zeal awakens from lengthy slumber,
turning all into shades of wonder.


By: Beverly Beekmans (February 2011)

Storm clouds gather in ominous silence,

darkening by the moment and laying in wait,

suddenly a clap of thunder shatters the calm,

and the  sky lights up bright as day.

Rumbling like a caged lion’s growl,

the storm erupts into gales of rain and bolts of electricity,

power ceases and a darkness falls

as the wind blows like a gray wolf’s howl.

As if an invisible hand has flipped a switch,

the storm ceases as quickly as it began,

a rainbow appears high over the world,

and a freshly washed day begins anew.

by: Beverly Beekmans

Angels sitting on soft clouds,

strumming harps of gold.

Hair of flaxen opulence,

glistening amongst the fold.

Shimmering gowns of purest white,

hint of Majesty untold.

Aloft their heads can slight be seen,

a nimbus pure and bold.

Singing hymns to Him above,

with voices young and old.

They are angels from on high,

sent to shroud us from the cold.

By: Beverly Beekmans (2001)

I just really enjoy this poem and I hope you do too. I often wonder what angels are really like, are they beautiful? what do they like to do? I suppose we will someday know the answer to all our questions.

I feel lost within the whirlwind,

of the passions of my mind.

At times I am curious,

of the things which I may find.

Snuggled deep within my brain,

Are tumultuous secrets which often bind.

Keeping me from possessing freedom,

and exuberant life of any kind.

I search for redemption,

And hope that I may find,

A release from these feelings,

For my life they do shackle and bind.

By: Beverly Beekmans

March 28th, 2001

This is a very personal poem to me, as many of them are, but this was the first poem I ever wrote that truly tried to explain some of my most inner thoughts and feelings.