Secret Place


I’m covered by your feathers

Sheltered with your wings

With your armor as my protection

You guard me in everything

You are the ultimate guard

For you never take a rest

I am always kept safe

Under your shadow I pass the test

Father I will dwell here

Where your hand of faithfulness resides

For it’s only in your secret place

That I know it’s safe to hide

2018 Marsha L. Brown

My Authority


My Father created this world

An amazing place called earth

Things have been a little hectic

From creation to my birth

Satan has a lease on earth

I’m a property manager

I work for my dad the king.

It’s a summer gig you see

It’s just until my dad

Comes back home to get me

But that tenant we have

Man he sure is a beast

He will cheat and lie and steal

Just to get his way

He doesn’t care who he hurts

Ignores the people in his way

I’m reminded that I’ve been given

The tools I need to control things

My authority is in Jesus

It’s the only thing I have to bring

I must remind myself

He’ll try anything to trick me

In order to win this fight

I’ll keep my battle plans with me

With head held high

And chest puffed strong

My voice in a mighty

battle sounding warm

I step up to the line

And with my strongest words

“You can’t cross the bloodline”

I boldly stated to be heard

I continued telling the beast

How his authority was dead

I am seated on high with Jesus

We had worked this way ahead

I could tell he didn’t like it

Ready to cause a war

I said “go ahead give it your best shot

That’s what my sisters were watching for”

He really started screaming

And made an evil hiss

Then then Prince of darkness

Took off and I said I won’t be missed.

I assured Him the authority

That I have as a believer

Breaks chains, opens prison

And sets free those under spell of the deceiver

 ©2018 Marsha L. Brown

All Rights Reserved

Cosmic Praise

Let the earth join in

The parade of praise

Lifting His name on high

The only name we raise

Take it even higher

Let the cosmos roar

The universe erupts in song

To the One we adore

The mighty creature’s deep

Lighting, storms and clouds

We need all melodies

So bring your praises loud

Every child and man

Woman, king and queen

People everywhere

Let your praises ring

He gives strength and power

To His favored ones

Get close to His heart

Praise is how it’s done


2018 Marsha L Brown


Sweatin To The Oldies

I was sweatin to the oldies

When it occurred to me

My parts that want to sweat

are on the inside you see

The outside its just chillin

Its singing a happy tune

It stopping rocking out ages ago

When I heard other music croon

I tried bopping to the bebop

I even took a swing at jazzercise

but my body still rejected it

It said “Girl thats exercise”

So when they came out clever

Said “give Zumba a try”

I gave it my best shake it out

But man I thought I was gonna die

So now I just have closets

Filled with DVD’s and such

Of all the greatest things

That promised me so much

But if the radio comes on

With Tone Loc or Busta Rhymes

Man oh Man This girl right here

I shake it every time!!!!!

2018 Marsha L Brown


Step Out

How can I be a light

When so many need illumination

How can I show Your love

To a lost and angry nation

How can I share the hope

When all they’ve felt is sorrow

How can I dry their tears

If they’ve given up on tomorrow

Such a big task ahead

Are you sure God that I’m ready

You said step out of the boat

You will keep the water steady


2009 Marsha L Brown


The Robin

American Female Robin

American Female Robin

Robin coming to the trees 

I'm glad you came to visit me 


In the sky, soaring so high 

Or down below near waters nigh


Searching for the worms in ground

Digging fervent til treasures found 


Your beauty such a great delight

As you rest on that perch tonight 


Your colors boldly make a stance

I know it's you with just one glance


Thank you for coming by my way

I hope you come again some day


American Female Robin getting a drink from the birdbath

American Female Robin getting a drink from the birdbath

All Rights Reserved

©2017 Marsha L. Brown

Junk Mail


Why oh why do you keep coming;

Junk mail junk mail why the spill?

Do you really think I’ll click you?

"Pastor's wife did this for thrill.”



“Act fast now and you save bigly!”

“Don't wait lately or you lose slow.”

I'm so tired of all this junk mail;

In the spam folder I may go.


I thought that I was getting clever;

I hit the button “unsubscribed now.”

It appears much to my dismay;

I get more than ever somehow.


Wading through the massive numbers,

My thumb and finger tired and frail.

I would like to REPLY ALL,

To the creator of this dang junk mail.


All Rights Reserved

©2016 Marsha Brown

A Light

Alone in the dark

I can’t see your face

Father open up my eyes

let your presence fill this place


Illuminate my life

open eyes to see

the glory of your wondrous love

that is here to set man free


I want to be a light

that shines just for you

I want to show your love

in everything that I do


All consuming fire

burn so bright in me

I want to be flame

for all the world to see


It only takes a spark

to create a roaring fire

Father use my life

That is my true desire


All Rights Reserved

©2014 Marsha Brown




The little tree sat quietly in the corner of the lot

The last tree – the only tree – the salesmen had forgot.

He wasn’t such a pretty tree - bent branches here and there -

but garlanded and dressed one really wouldn’t be aware.




He’d dreamed of bells and ornaments, and snowflakes on his boughs

But without a family Christmas Eve, what were his chances now?

Was his fate to be a throwaway?  A tree nobody wanted?

Or worse be used for firewood – the thoughts of fire haunted!


As darkness drew its velvet cape across the evening sky

One by one the stars came out, so brilliant to his eye.

Then all at once a joyous sound in the quiet hush of night - 

of tinkling bells and reindeer hooves ‘neath the Christmasmoon so bright.


His heart was filled with wonder - it quite took his breath away

Then suddenly in the lot with him was Santa and his sleigh!

“You’re just the tree I dreamed about” said Santa beaming bright,

now come aboard – I’ll take you home to Mrs. Claus, tonight!


And somewhere out there in the night, the little tree stands tall - 

bright starlight on his branches and music in his soul.

He'd dreamed a dream without a hope that it just might come true

But so it did, and it might for those who dream their own dreams too.


This is a poem written by a wonderful writer named Lindsay Allen, she is one of my customers who shared her writing with me and I love to share great writers with you! 


None Can Compare

You are Lord of Lords, You are King of Kings

You are my rock, my shield, my everything. 


When I wake in the morning, till I draw my last breath 

You're the one I long for, You are the one who gives me rest. 


None can compare to You oh God, to Your everlasting grace

I long for the the day when I shall look upon Your face


When I will run up to Your throne, and jump in my Daddy's arms.

To say, "Thank You and I love You, for keeping me from harm. 


All Rights Reserved

©2016 Marsha Brown


The game’s afoot in the barnyard where the turkeys live and thrive

It seems there’s been some scheming about how to stay alive

These birds have learned a thing or two about what’s going on

And why the farmer’s feeding them the very best fresh corn


They’re ever so much smarter now, and don’t take things for granted!

They’ve noticed things aren’t what they seem and are justly disenchanted

Of course they’ve heard the legend of the one who flew the coop

 And they understand he didn’t want his bones turned into soup!


They know they have to get away, and they have to do it soon

They can’t while away their summer here, and wait to meet their doom.

Of course it will be difficult; the farmer’s got them hooked

But if they stay to eat the corn, their collective geese are cooked


Their scraggy necks are far from safe; they’ll see their feathers fly

Their gobbles will be silenced, and on dinner plates they’ll lie.

None of the scratching and the pecking will save their skins at all

They need to find greener pastures, and must leave before the fall!


If only Tom had passed on useful hints for avoiding harm

Why didn’t he leave some good advice to help them flee the farm?

But time was not his friend that day, and his friends must find their own plan

For escaping the barnyard lickety-split, or accept ending up in the pan.


Can they do it in time, or will they be gracing the Thanksgiving table?

They know they need to get out of Dodge, but I wonder, will they be able?

I guess we’ll find out if we drive by the farm and see that the barnyard’s deserted

No eggs in the straw, the farmer incensed, and a slaughter of turkeys averted! 


This is part three of the Tom Turkey Saga written by Lindsay Allen an amazing customer of mine who writes for her newsletter. She is an incredible writer and I have another one of her poems to share at Christmas time. 


We know that Tom Turkey by escaping the farm
Avoided considerable bodily harm
But where did he go, and how far away?
Is he still running and hiding today?

Did he go feral and find a new pack?
Or missing his friends, is he now heading back?
Is it likely he hid through the whole Christmas Season?
(Experience had taught him he had a good reason!)

The best explanation that anyone gave
Was “he ran for the woods and hid in a cave”
But Tom was a smart bird and knew that he couldn’t
Stay hidden forever, and by nature, just wouldn’t

Did he head north to Canada and over the Rockies?
Ending up in Alberta where he liked watching Hockey?
Not from the sidelines, for what if perchance
Somebody saw him? He couldn’t take the chance.

With ten years or so to live out his life
He had to be thinking of taking a wife
Of raising a family, as the best turkeys do
And keeping them safe from all he’d been through

His kids living free, not cooked with the stuffing
No farmer behind them huffing and puffing
No cleaver, no barnyard, no run for the fence
And a tough turkey Dad to ensure their defense.

Perhaps we’ll hear more of our gallant young bird
Of his travels out west and the legend he’s spurred
Of a brilliant escape that turned a gloomy day sunny
And how he gave the farmer a run for his money.

This is part two of a three part sage for Thanksgiving written by a guest writer named Lindsay Allen from Washington who is also one of my customers. She is such a delightful woman and I enjoyed talking with her so much. Writing is one of the things we both enjoyed and she is such an incredible writer. It was to my great delight that she shared her poetry with me and allowed me to share it with my readers. Check out part 3 tomorrow and if you missed part 1, go back and read yesterday's post.