Category Archives: New Poetry


The New Orleans District of the United Methodist Church is hosting its Fall Lay Servant School November 9th and 10th of 2018 at First Slidell UMC. The registration fee is $40 which covers book, supplies, and 3 meals.  Time is running out for registration.   Send yours in before it’s too late. For more information call me at 985 986 9764. PLEASE SHARE THIS ANNOUNCEMENT.

“There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right.”  Martin L. King, Jr.


praying hands

Today Lord, I bow to you and pray.
Please give thought to what I say

We, like your beloved Israelites of old,
Have fallen captive to a despicable rogue.

He favors the richest one percent,
Forsaking those to whom you were sent.

Lord, your people are dying here without health care.
And, some are freezing with no clothes to wear.

Children suffers the most of all,
And some are housed in stalls like dogs.

And, it is such a shameful, shameful pity
To see homeless squalor in our great city.

Oh Lord, It is for this today I pray
Raise up a savior and send him our way.

Just as you did for your Israelite crew,
Send us a Moses to deliver us too.

Glory S. Davis



praying hands

Almighty God, when I grow tired and cannot rest,

                                Help me muster strength enough to do my best.

,                                Give me a double portion of power and might.

                               Stand with me and pray with me ‘till all is right.

                                                         In Jesus’ mighty name, today,

                                                          I raise my hands to you and pray. Amen

Glory S. Davis


Ipraying hands

Lord, when I am trusted with a position of power,

Stay close to me in every hour.

Censor my words and order my deeds.

Equip me, Lord, with all that I need.


If for some reason I should stumble and stray

Ending Far from You and lose my way,

Come for me and take my hand.

Lead me home, Lord, and fix my stand.


Then give me Your gift of power and might.

Teach me to lead Your people right.

Keep me humble, just, and true;

Let me never fail to honor You.

                                                 Glory S. Davis






Last night I dreamed a dream . . .

Of A celebration of life I read.

“I’ll go and have some fun.” I thought.

“This ole house is boring and dead.”


I dressed in my best attire

To be the bell of the ball.

But when I arrived, to my surprise,

There was no party at all.


No balloons or banners were seen

Hanging beautifully on the wall,

Nor was there a bar in the room

With refreshing drinks for us all.


But in the front of the room there lay

A dark gray casket opened wide

And mourners gathered all around

With tears flowing from their eyes.


“A funeral!  What a mistake!

This is no party at all,

But it’s a solemn celebration

For a soul answering her call”


“Who could that be lying there,”

In a sad, soft voice I sighed.

When I walked to view the body

I mourned a mournful cry.


It was I . . . lying quietly asleep

As if in a peaceful dream,

But when my life paraded by

I saw a ghastly scene.


My face was wrinkled and grotesque

With worms crawling through my eyes.

My   hair was gray, unkempt, and wooly.

It was sad to see how I lived and died


I never thought of this before,

But to our funeral we all must go,

And see and hear our lives replayed

Like a drama upon a stage.


When your time on earth is spent

And before you . . . your life is played,

Make sure that after you see you,

You will be proud of the choices made.



Of life today I write

Trying to understand it with all my might.

Help me, Lord, to easily see

The answers to life’s mystery.


Why do evil men exist

Without God’s cry of cease and desist?


Why must we be born in sin

To die a death to live again?


Why does racism infest our souls

And kill black men in unmerciful tolls?


Why do liars lie when truth will do

And swear to stories that just aren’t true?


Why can’t   restless men be content

And sleep in peace when the day is spent?


Why do sinful men grasp and steal

And for money will easily kill?


Why so many spend their youthful years

Wasted on fun, folly, and . . . fears?


Why isn’t life an easy book

To be understood with just one look?

Why must we think so hard to see

The answers to life’s mystery?





misty mort 4


The devil is a real and present danger.

But, he is not so easily discerned.

For he lives disguised among us

Secretly seeking to destroy and burn.


He flashes a pearly white smile,

And to the innocent unsuspecting eye,

He gives a slap on the back

And seems a friendly guy.


He says you’re a friend forever

Smiling sweetly in your face,

But as soon as you are gone,

He calls you a sad disgrace.


Loyalty and trust are buzzwords

Spoken by him in vain.

For he will stab a friend in the heart

And show no remorse or shame.


Yes, the devil is a real and present danger,

Secretly seeking to steal your soul.

Guard it  with all your might

Like a watchman would a bag of gold.