Poem About Bravery and Courage

Bravery

There's no one braver to be
in a world increasingly
defined by a litany of achievements
than the way God crafted me.

Our contributions can't be measured
solely in dollars and money signs.
For God's work isn't treasured
by the market of mankind.

Our souls become rich
and our hearts light
when we reject a model of materialism
and follow the path God has for our life.

Though pockets may become fat 
if we aspire to be paid in gold,
we'll end up failing to acquire
the dividends paid to the soul.

We fail not only ourselves
but those we rob of our gifts.
Is it worth that sack of gold, dear Judas,
to betray destiny with a kiss?

There's no one braver that I can be
than to live free
of the world's expectations
and seek the life God has willed for me.

Justin Farley


Hello, everyone! I have recently published my first chapbook of Christian poems titled “A Voice in the Wilderness – A Chapbook of Poems about God”. This has been developed and polished over the past six months or so. I am happy with the final product and hope you find encouragement in the poems but also a validation that the spiritual life is not all sunshine and rainbows. We all struggle. We all have periods of questions and/or doubt. But it is the yearning that keeps us coming back for more and allows us to experience joy.
You can purchase either on Amazon or on my own bookstore (it is cheaper and has free shipping on my store) and is available on the Kindle and in paperback.
Amazon: Kindle Paperback
Inkspiration Books (my bookstore): Paperback

Thank you for your support!

What Should I Do With My Life Poem About Life Purpose

A Life's Purpose - A Poem

Busyness is not success. 
Nor is achievement.
Nor accolades
of power, status, or wealth. 
Success is measured
by how closely we live out
our life's purpose -
the king who was called to live
as a pauper is poor.
What good is earning the riches of the world
if they cost the betrayal of our heart
each and every day?

You know the voice.
You've heard it speaking
in the depth of your soul,
trying to point you
back to your blueprint,
trying to realign you to your design.
We don't chose our calling;
it chooses us.
Fail to accept it
and you are thrust,

thrown down a path of emptiness
where the shrieks of the soul
become so loud
you must unceasingly engage in activity 
to distract yourself from the reality
of your failure.
Before do, you must answer who
you are
or all your doing
is nothing but steps
that lead you farther and farther
away from your true self.

Poem by Justin Farley

Growing Pains – A Poem

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Growing Pains – A Poem

Why are these dreams that stretch out across my heart’s field of desire,
That glisten Like droplets of drew sparkling on the morning grass,
So hard to obtain, so hard to take to take hold of,
And so hard to lasso and pull close to reality?
The burden is bearing the tragedy of it all,
Knowing what you want, what you need,
Lies just beyond the forest and through the trees,
But you seem unable to put those desires into action.
So often I’m fixated on distractions that pull me off-course,
And get me lost on side paths instead of trekking onward
Towards goals, aspirations, and destinations.
It drives a person mad, carrying around bags of frustrations,
Grueling through labor day after day,
Counting the minutes, knowing there has to be another way.
But the Way is left without footprints, often prepared for
But never ventured and what’s left of hope slowly fades away.
There’s a demon inside of me that seems unable to be controlled,
Scoffing at dreams, content to let life pass me by,
Trampling on schedules, and consistently cursing meaningful causes.
Claws strike out at my fingers each time
I reach out to grasp my true potential.
I now know the paved road to success doesn’t exist.
You must venture through the dense forest,
Fight through the clinging vines, and thrash through the sticks.
No, to journey with intention is no vacation,
And the mess inside me, always attempting to misguide me, is no easy fix.
But the trail to nowhere is covered by countless footprints
And paved with the trampled dreams others have left behind.
The alarm clock beckons.
Wisdom speaks.
My souls shrieks.
But for some reason I have yet to understand,
I hear, but refuse to listen.

-Poem Written by Justin Farley


photo credit: After the rainfall via photopin (license)