A Crown of Righteousness

A Crown Of Righteousness

A Crown of Righteousness
The result of His crown of thorns –
Why do I lavish the reward,
From what He once adorned.

A heart of shattered dreams,
There was no hope left for us—
Yet still He chose to bear our pain
And heal our brokenness.

We deserved not His blessings,
Nor the riches of His love—
Yet he reached with compassion
And poured grace from above.

And His voice still sweetly lingers
As He continues His longing call
“Come find your peace and rest,
There is much room for you all.”

And soon one day, very soon,
I’ll take a hold of what is promised
Though I haven’t been perfect—
My life a ‘doubtin’ Thomas’

But I will trudge forward,
And without unwillingness
Though I remember all my lies
He overlooks what I transgress.

I will hold onto this hope,
And cling steadfast unto His name
There is joy within my heart,
I’ll sing his name with great acclaim.

I’m getting ready to leave this life
Yet with all my heart I must profess—
That instead of my crown of thorns,
I’ll trade it for His righteousness.

By Greg Butz
March 30, 2009

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In my heart, I am beginning to prepare myself for a trip to Pakistan this summer. It is not the safest of regions in the world. Every day there is much news of horrors, but I am not afraid. If the occasion does arise, and I never to home return – may my life be an example of willingness to serve an Awesome King. And one day, I will get to trade my thorns and sorrows for a crown of Righteousness.

The World's Turning

The World's Turning

The world is turning upside
While my heart is on the outside
And all these problems seem
to be spinning out of control.

My soul yearns for freedom,
Though my mind knows theres none,
And the troubles of my heart,
Can't seem to stay away

Take me down, down the road,
Away from all this strife--
No one told me there would be
So much trouble in my life.

But up in the distance--
Approaching I see a light
Beckoning as it nears--
"Everything will be alright."

By Greg Butz
March 25th, 2009

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I wrote this poem after a difficult class. There is one class that just enjoys testing me for some reason -- they're great kids, but just a handful sometimes. I quickly scribbled down these thoughts without looking at the minature dry erase board (which i need to return to Alison Stephens). I seem to have this fixation on "journey" type of poems. Which reminds me, I must also upload an earlier poem about a road. Enjoy

The Wind that Whispers

The Wind that Whispers

The wind that whispers through the night
The things you dare not hear—
But how oft it preys upon your fears
Of the things that cause you fright.

The racing in your chest—your worries do ignite
Its long jagged reach cuts you through
As you consider if their lies be true –
When all else in your life seems but blight.

Clasping your hands over your ears –
Trying to shut all this madness out!
But even the tested and the devout,
Will find it difficult to persevere.

Oh the wicked wind how it howls,
Scrapping the branches onto your house
Amplifying fears as they rouse
When everything outside seems foul.

The shriek of terror outside
While the violent clamors rise—
To herald our hope’s demise,
And to demand truths subside.

But pinning toward a faint sound,
I hear the slightest glimmer of hope
While terrors outside do abound –
A still voice in the wind helps me cope.

Against the terrors of the night,
Against the darkest of my fears—
I strain my hears now to hear
That Love will keep me safe tonight.

Greg Butz
3-22-09

I hadn’t written a poem in a while, and it’s been even longer since I’ve written one of quality. I’m afraid I haven’t the opportunity to refine this one to make it more impactful. I’ve been listening to the booming of the wind too often, without pausing to recognize the still small voice – beckoning to me. There is hope despite madness, instead of sucumbing to the darkness, lets sucumb to the light.

Shutter Speed

Shutter Speed

What’s that sound outside beneath my window?
Just before the dawn breaks, and the sun begins to awake.

The rustling of leaves and the winds begin to hasten—
As they welcome beckoning me for another glorious morning.

Majesty revealing, as vibrant colors paint the skies,
Awestruck I peer, as this breathtaking canvas unfolds before my eyes.

Splashes of color and fragrances fill the air—I take it in!
Listening to the sounds their every detail, of animals foraging for their meals.

I drift outside my own tentative and temporal existence,
Timelessly gazing through the pains, every movement a different frame.

Every brushstroke it paints a different picture, masterpieces of art—
Is there was a way to capture, each wondrous moment that enraptures?

Shutter speed slows it down, life is moving by too fast.
Each moment soak it in, don’t let this beauty pass.

When life is on high speeds, and it seems out of control—
Switch the knob on your camera, and slow your life down.


--By Greg Butz, March 1, 2009

This is the first of my completely random poems. I just picked a neat sounding word like "shutter speed" and wrote a poem in reaction to it. It was also in the middle of the night, so quite different than the title of the poem. In some ways it is the opposite of one of the poems I'm currently working on "the day without the sun." But I'm not finished with that one yet. The idea of this poem is obvious -- our lives are so fast that we should just slow it down and take in the sights.

Hastily Spoken

Hastily Spoken

They were just words said in passing—

I’m sure they weren’t meant to harm,

But the barbs attached to them did sting,

And I wonder if I’m overly alarmed.

I see you laughing while you’re walking—

Are you aware what you said to me?

But what if you were actually mocking—

You’re motives are to unclear to see.

These thoughts of mine may be unconventional—

Determining whether our friendship is still true,

This hurt you’ve caused me is probably unintentional,

I won’t do the same to your feelings and callously misconstrue.

Perhaps talking to you will be too difficult,

You’re going your way, and I’ve got my own.

And I don’t want to hint or subtly imply an insult

To this pebble you’ve thrown, and in return cast a stone.

My feelings of pain, regret might be wrong,

Though my feelings for a while lie broken.

The strength of our friendship must stand strong,

But take care of the words, which are hastily spoken.

Greg Butz

March 3^rd, 2009

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It’s been a while since I wrote a poem. Actually, it’s only been one day – as I wrote one last night and forgot to upload it. I really didn’t know what to write, but I wanted to type up something. Also, I haven't written a poem in ABAB CDCD since I was in junior high, so it gave me an opportunity to do so. So the first thing that came to my mind was the phrase “hastily written” – which is what this poem is – but nothing was coming into my mind until I changed “written” to “spoken” – suddenly this poem came flooding. This is not written about anything that is currently going on – but rather a reflection on the times when people are hurt by things spoken without thinking.