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Enduring virtues and character of a gentleman. This poem lovingly describes the enduring virtues and character of the gentleman, from love and dedication in marriage to commitment as a partner, father, son and friend. The expression 'Gentleman' is not used very often anymore. The meaning of this word has shifted throughout history from an early English term for an adult male who owns property and has an income above that of manual labour. The modern meaning of the word 'Gentleman' describes the character and behaviour of an adult male, including integrity, kindness, politeness, and respect for others. I originally wrote this poem for my two wonderful brothers, who are true gentlemen. In loving memory of my dad, who passed away in 2025 at 95. Beverley Joy The Qualities of a Gentleman Poem “What do you see in me?” he asked “A gentleman is what I see.” “A gentleman”, he laughed. "Yes" I said confidently, “Please let me explain.” I saw a young man who won the true love of a young woman And as one, their love flourished. Then, I saw a fiancé whose strong, rugged hands Softly and tenderly embraced his sweetheart. Now, I see a husband whose gentle embrace Engulfs her in peace and protects her from harm. I see a mature man with old-fashioned values Weathered and wrinkled from the harsh Australian sun. I see a father who devoted his youth To raise his children and provide for his family. I see a working man who goes the extra mile Proud of his work ethic, striving for the best. I see a handsome man who likes to dress smart Who looks quite charming in suit and tie. I see a grown man who sheds a tear silently Then wipes it dry and soldiers on positively. I see a family man who longs to embrace Loved ones lost through death or distance. I see a healthy man who has suffered through illness But still wants to regain life in its fullness. I see a brother whose warm smile enchants Who loves and approves of who I am. I see a mate whose kind laughter is heard Infectiously causing laughter in return. I see a son who gave comfort To his ageing parents with loyalty and love. I see a gentleman whose gentle, kind nature Relaxes people and banishes their fear. Outside appearance doesn’t matter to me I see his soul and spirit Unique and special God’s gift to his family. Beverley Joy © 2014 of Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. Read or listen to my poems at Simply Story Poetry on ⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Pinterest⁠⁠, ⁠⁠YouTube ⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠⁠ and follow me on ⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠.

Women visit Jesus' tomb on Easter morning. It is the story of Mary Magdalene at the tomb on that first Easter Sunday morning.  Mary Magdalene and other women visit Jesus' tomb on Easter morning and find it empty. After encountering angels and witnessing Jesus, Mary spreads the news. Her deep sorrow turns to joy as she becomes the first to share the gospel message. The two feature images I edited together depict Mary's deep sorrow at the cross and her joy at the risen Lord, which soon reaches its height. The Passion of Mary MagdaleneAs the sun rose on that Sunday morning Several women went to the tomb They took the spices they had prepared To complete the burial ritual.  The tomb was open when they arrived The large entrance stone was rolled aside They went inside, but they did not find The body of their Saviour, Jesus Christ.  As they stood there puzzled, two men appeared Clothed in white robes, sitting to one side “Are you looking for Jesus, who was crucified?" The women bowed to the ground; they were terrified. “Don’t be alarmed. He isn’t here! He has risen from the dead! Jesus said it would happen this way. Don't you remember what He said?" Now go and tell his disciples what you've heard and seen And that Jesus will meet them soon in Galilee." The women ran quickly from the tomb They were so frightened, but also filled with joy But the story sounded like nonsense to the men They didn’t believe what the women had said. But two disciples ran to the tomb to see The cloth lay where Jesus' body had been Once they saw for themselves, they believed They went home wondering, "What has happened?" Mary Magdalene, back at the garden tomb Crying, she stooped and looked inside The two angels asked, “Why do you cry?” "They've taken my Lord, and I don’t know where or why.” She turned to leave and saw the gardener standing near “Why are you crying?” “Who are you looking for?” “Sir, tell me where you have put him, so I can go and get him.” She cried through tear-stained eyes. “Mary”, Jesus gently called her name Wiping her tears, she searched His eyes She recognized His calming voice His face, His frame, it was Her Lord. “Teacher”, she whispered in wonder and awe Her despair turns to future hope From the darkness of sorrow to the light of joy From the separation of death to eternal life. She fell on Him, clinging tight He was real, a human, not a ghost Never again would she let Him go Now things would be as they were before. “Don’t cling to me,” Jesus gently said Helping her to compose herself “Go tell my brothers this message ‘To our Father, to our God, I will ascend." The risen Jesus had appeared in the flesh Not to rulers and kings, nor His disciples But to a woman whose life He had saved Who had followed Jesus to His grave. A humble woman now honoured by God The first man or woman to see the Risen Lord And hear the first words from His lips And be the first to spread the gospel message. There stood a man and a woman in a garden Jesus, the new Adam, and Mary Magdalene The power of His resurrection Give eternal freedom and redemption. The power of death broken in this new garden Jesus paid the debt of God's judgment And put right the Garden of Eden's fall Now man is restored, redeemed, and transformed. Mary Magdalene ran to tell the men The gospel message, the good news “I have seen the Lord!” My Saviour is alive. Jesus conquered death for all of us The power of His resurrection Is the power of a new creation A time of joy and celebration. The passionate love of God for us His longing, desire, and joy have come For reconciliation between God and His creation... Reads the full poem on the website. Read or listen to my poems at Simply Story Poetry on ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠Pinterest⁠, ⁠YouTube ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠ and follow me on ⁠Instagram⁠. Thank you for encouraging me by listening to my poem. Beverley Joy.

The Easter Bible story. This Christian poem is Part One of two Easter poems. It tells the story of the few faithful women, including Mary Magdalene, who cooked, helped, and supported Jesus as He travelled through townships and villages, preaching, healing, and teaching His disciples. They were faithful right to the end of His life. The poem is told through the eyes of these few faithful women - what they saw, heard and felt during the last few days of Jesus' life.  A Few Faithful WomenMary grew up in thriving Magdala A town on the banks of the Sea of Galilee But Mary Magdalene did not thrive in life For demons controlled her mind. Living in a nightmare of mental illness Haunted by evil monsters and villains That chased her away from life's simple pleasures Into dark valleys of misery and torture. Jesus looked through her with knowing eyes ‘Mary' He said, neither afraid nor repulsed "Leave her." He commanded the demonic spirit There she stood with her Saviour in her right mind. Now at peace, like the troubled sea, Jesus once calmed Her nightmare was finished, her new life had begun She devoted her life to those she owed so much In deep gratitude for God's mercy and love. Mary Magdalene witnessed and listened Stirred and surprised by Jesus' teaching and healing Now surrounded by friends who loved and cared Pure joy to a woman unaccustomed to joy. Mary followed with His disciples and other women Who had also been cured of evil spirits and diseases The women lived, served, and supported them As Jesus travelled through townships, preaching and healing. Mary and the women served Jesus to the end Along His final journey to Jerusalem Crowds no longer gathered to listen to Him Close friends and disciples had deserted him. Mary saw religious men thirsty for His blood She listened as Pilate pronounced His death sentence She felt angry at the injustice of an innocent man She wept to see Him tortured by the soldiers of Rome. She watched Him fall under the weight of His cross His flesh was stripped from his back from the cruel beating As Jesus struggled to climb the hill to death Mary watched helplessly as her Saviour bled. Mary stood near the cross with the other women They heard the hammering of nails through his flesh They watched as Jesus shunned the pain relief drink And the soldiers laughed and gambled for his cloak. These women who loved him listened and cried As the religious men and people passing by Shouted abuse and mocked, “Look at you now!” “You saved others, but you can’t save yourself." They listened in disgust as the criminals beside Him Joined in the ridicule of him, except one Who begged Him for mercy, and through pain, Jesus said "Today I will see you in paradise.” For three hours, darkness fell across the land The crowds thinned out, yet the women stayed Then Jesus cried out in agony to God They listened, helpless to relieve His pain. Mary and the other faithful women Listened to Jesus forgive His enemies Then cried, "It is finished", and bowed His head Then Jesus cried out and breathed his last breath. The earth shook, and the rocks split apart The women cried their final goodbye The soldiers, who once mocked, were now terrified Confessing “He truly was the Son of God!” They had humbly followed Jesus Serving selflessly behind the scenes Right to the end, under suffering and tears With persistence and faithfulness. The faithful women still standing by Watched the soldiers cripple the two criminals But even though Jesus was already dead A soldier speared Him through His side. Mary Magdalene and a few of the women Approached two unknown followers of Jesus Who took His bloodied body down from the cross And wrapped it in ceremonial spices and cloth... Read the full poem on the website. Read or listen to my poems at Simply Story Poetry on ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠Pinterest⁠, ⁠YouTube ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠ and follow me on ⁠Instagram⁠. I appreciate you taking the time to listen to my poem. Beverley Joy.

A prisoner's encounter with God. I wrote this Christian poem while serving as a prison chaplain in a men's high-security prison. I went inside the prison each week with a male Chaplain. We were allowed to sit and chat with prisoners in the common area, inside the cell blocks. I often felt like I was a spectator watching in amazement at how God was working in the prison through the Bible, which was often read by the prisoners while they were locked in their cells. This poem is a true story of one such prisoner, a young adult who had never been involved with God or Christianity before. He was covered in tattoos, and my partner Chaplain and I had never spoken to him before this event. Prison Fellowship is a worldwide organisation that offers Prison Chaplaincy and reformative services. Most major Christian denominations also have volunteer Prison Chaplains. Let's pray for and support the Chaplains who volunteer their time to visit prisons around the world each week, sharing God's love and forgiveness with prisoners and helping transform their lives. Beverley Joy. Imprisoned by God's Love The steel door locked behind us A prisoner approached, excited Tattooed face, intense eyes We said, “Giday, how can we help?” “Are you the Chaplains? I must talk with you?” So, we sat at a table, cold and steel And we listened in wonder as he told us his story… “I woke up yesterday with a voice in my head Saying “Go, talk with the Chaplain. Ask him what Jesus did.” “This voice in my head, I could not ignore It was so persistent, so clear, so sure." The prisoner shook his head in bewilderment “I’ve never thought about Jesus or God Or read the Bible or go to church Never wanted to, never cared.” He had never spoken to a Chaplain It was considered uncool, embarrassing But that morning, he rushed over, keen to tell us about his dream. "I sat and listened to the chaplain As he explained what God had done And how much Jesus loves me And that God will forgive my sins.” “My eyes were opened, I felt free in prison God’s love and forgiveness invaded me Amazing peace washed through my veins As I prayed to God, the sinner’s prayer.” “I can’t read very well But he gave me a bible and a devotional I read it every night, locked in my cell Alone with God, I read and pray.” "I want to go to the church service every week With my new mate, who’s a Christian I want to sing and hear Chappy’s prayers That will remind me I’m loved and forgiven." It was hard for him to believe That God has forgiven him of his sins He doesn't understand all he reads in God’s Book   But, deep down, he believes it is true. He continues to struggle from day to day With past addictions and his mental health But with a nod and a smile, he chats With the Chaplains who visit prisoners each week. Beverley Joy © 2018 Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. Image by AgnieszkaMonk from Pixabay Image by Werner Moser from Pixabay Music by Tunetank from Pixabay Music by Alex Guz from Pixabay Read or listen to my poems on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ I really appreciate you listening to my poem. Thank you for listening.

A metaphor of life as a tapestry. This poem visualises life as a tapestry, woven from threads of varying lengths, colours, and textures. Each individual's life is depicted as a unique piece of art. While each tapestry is unique, common life experiences bind us together across different cultures and communities, reinforcing the interconnectedness of humanity. Ultimately, the beauty of life's tapestry lies in its variety and hues. Beverley Joy Life is a Tapestry A tapestry sewn through the warp and weft of life Threads of different lengths, colours, and textures Short, dark threads and long, light shades The silky smooth and the rough to touch. Our tapestry of life can look dark and stormy At other times, calm and bright All threads sew various colours into our lives Some are finished quickly, others take a long time. Life is sewn with different textures Each thread has a beginning and an ending Some cover large areas, others just a few stitches Adding quality and character to our stories. Coarse threads stitch a tree trunk, strong and rough Reflect on rough times in life and the strength required Tones of green leaves give protection from storms and heat Threads soft and pastel form delicate flower petals Reflect the fragrant pleasures and moments we treasure. The sewer carefully follows the instructions Sewing threads short and long, colours vary until completion Individual tapestries, yet the colours are universal No matter what country or culture, we share some ventures. Many loved ones live long lives, while some are cut short in time Health and sickness come and stay or fall away The goodbye of death, the welcome of a newborn The joy of marriage, the sorrow of divorce. When the last thread is tied off, the picture is complete The beauty of life's tapestry lies in its hues and variety. Beverley Joy © 2026 Simply Story Poetry. All rights reserved. Photo by Amirhossein Kianbakht Photo by Compagnons on Unsplash Music by Tunetank from Pixabay Read or listen to my poems on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠I really appreciate you listening to my poem. Thank you for listening.

Shared life experiences within communities. This poem explores the shared human experience and the connections between individuals. The challenges, life lessons, and aspirations for truth, joy, and harmony within familiar settings of cities and communities where people navigate life's ups and downs together. Through laughter and tears, familiar ties that bind us through relationships among family, friends, and even strangers. The universal nature of love and care reinforces the idea that, despite our diversity, we share important similarities in our lives. Beverley Joy Familiar Diversity My voice, your voice My challenge, your challenge  My life lessons, your life lessons My courage, your courage. We live in familiar countries and cities We walk and shop along crowded streets Meetup within our communities We want truth, joy and harmony. We laugh and cry, stumble and rise We breathe the same air, we love and care Sister and brother, father and mother Friends and lovers, colleagues and strangers. Beverley Joy of Simply Story Poetry © 2026 All rights reserved Image by David Bruyland from Pixabay Music by Olivia Bennett from Pixabay Read or listen to my poems at ⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠ on ⁠Instagram⁠, ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠YouTube⁠, ⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠. Thank you for listening.

This poem uses the rose as a metaphor for life’s beauty and pain, illustrating resilience amid hardships. The rose endures nature's elements and flourishes despite its delicate vulnerability. The Wilted Rose book ends with Grace leaving home at 18. Though The Wilted Rose concludes, Grace's pursuit of true love continues. Though her mother's life wilted in mental illness, Grace's adult life was beginning. Full of hopes and dreams of love and happiness, just as her mother had decades earlier, Grace was determined to forge a brighter, healthier future for herself than her mother had lived, and it started with moving far away from the strict religion of her youth and her mother.  The Rose Poem Petals so delicate, soft and fragrant, drenched in rich coloured hues of orange and yellow. Layered and wrapped, petals holding each other, unfold to reveal a tender heart at the centre. Easily bruised, tossed about by the wind, the sun’s heat gives energy, and the rain gives nourishment. The rose, admired by many and considered precious, its sweet gentle fragrance is received with pleasure. Yet cursed by some who, in pure ignorance, handle it carelessly, then blame it for their wound. The rose fulfils its purpose, not wanting to be another, content to be of its own kind of flower. The rose does not wish it was a tree, tall and strong, living long. It simply accepts nature's nourishment and surrenders to that which is greater than itself. Its presence and fame never fail to display the splendour and wonder of this flower so frail. When it’s drenched with rain, it doesn’t complain When the sun’s heat scorches, it turns to face it. I see how my life reflects that of a rose; I, too, am easily bruised. And feel tossed about by the winds of hardship and pain. I’m admired by some and precious to them; my sweet, gentle nature, they receive with pleasure. I am cursed by some and blamed for their pain; both parties feel hurt, for they misunderstand. When life scorches and drenches my heart, I am soon revived and able to thrive.  The Rose and I both require harsh elements to blossom into full bloom. Beverley Joy © 2014 Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. Read or listen to my poems at Simply Story Poetry on Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, Pinterest, LinkedIn and at simplystorypoetry.com. May your life be filled with love and hope. Beverley Joy.

New Year's Resolutions. Happy New Year to my readers and listeners. Diaries and calendars are on sale now that the new year has burst out of the starting blocks and will soon gain speed. New Year's Resolutions are made this month. By the end of January, some people will have already broken their well-meaning intentions, a few won't even bother setting any goals for the year, and some will be slow out of the starting blocks and need another month or two before they get started. Others will have set their goals for the year and are competing in the race against time. I wrote this poem reflecting on how we humans run the race against time. A Scribble in TimeTick-tock, tick-tock, time waits for no man The relentless rhythm of the hands As they walk their way around the clock Day in, day out, they never tire of their work. Tick-tock, tick-tock, humans, can only hope to find A way to organise their mind To sync what they do at work and leisure, To fit in with the times, hourly chimes. Tick-tock, tick-tock, I scribble my goals on a piece of paper I sit curled up on my comfy lounge A calendar and diary with art on the cover With a pen and white-out stick ready in hand. Tick-tock, tick-tock, determined to achieve my goals this year I think as I scribble my plan onto the paper I'll do this today, I'll do that tomorrow I'll go here in September, and I'll go there in December. Tick-tock, tick-tock. When I'm finished, I lean back and sit tall in my chair With a smirk on my face, I say, "I've won the race With the hands of time, I've silenced its chimes My plan is sealed in whiteout and ink." Tick-tock, tick-tock, at Christmas time, I know I will find My diary, full of whiteout and scribbles in time Confessions of frustration and of cause celebration In my race to chase time to the finish line. Beverley Joy © 2022 of Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. Read or listen to my poems on ⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠⁠⁠I really appreciate you listening to my poem. Beverley Joy

The True Value of Free Gifts: Quality Time and Talents. As we enter this year's busy time of shopping for the perfect gifts for our friends and family, remember that, as well as giving physical gifts this Christmas, there are many gifts we can give that are free yet priceless. Time is one of those free but valuable gifts we can provide. Ah, yes, but the saying says 'Money is time.' But is money the only way we can receive 'payment' for how we spend our time? Do we always have to receive 'payment' for our time? Listen to other poems about giving titled "A Hug is Priceless" and "A Gift to Our Family." This Featured Image shows the person sharing time. We can waste time with people, or we can give the gift of quality time, which requires skill. Quality time is only one of many skills and talents that we can share with others.  Poem: The Best Gift to Give is You Give away that which you have plenty of To others who are devoid of To those in desperate need of For you are the best gift you can offer. If you have good health and strength Love, joy, peace, and patience, If you delight to encourage Share these qualities with others. Share your talent and experience Don't hide them deep within Learn the skills you need to know To share your gifts with the world. If you write, if you paint, if you sing Then share a story through your gift If you love to serve and help others Then serve with a gracious attitude. An unwritten book, a painting half-finished, A song unsung and a cake unbaked, Serving hands tied behind your back Are of no value to anyone, nor even yourself. To share our gifts will take time and effort, Courage, focus and discipline God gives us talents we must develop And share with those waiting to receive. Beverley Joy © 2021 of Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Rese My poetry verses are available to purchase as print-on-demand gift ideas in my shop at beverleyjoy.redbubble.com. Read or listen to my poems at ⁠⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠⁠ on ⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠, ⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠⁠. May you enjoy this Christmas time with someone that you love and receive love in return. Beverley Joy.

Spending Christmas far away from family and friends. Many families and friends are separated at this special time of the year. We have to enjoy Christmas Day the best way we can when our family cannot get together.  I chose this Featured Image partly because of what is written on her coffee mug - 'Make today awesome.' To me, this image conveys the poem's message: her longing to be elsewhere and not alone, yet also her acceptance of the situation she is in and her resolve to enjoy the day as best she can.  Poem: Far Away for Christmas It was Christmas away from home Hot and humid as we drove to church For the Christmas Day morning service To celebrate the story of Christmas. My daughter lived with me, so I wasn't alone Once we got home, we prepped for lunch We played carols to build the Christmas spirit And opened the few gifts that were under the tree. We called family members who lived far away And chatted with them throughout the day It felt strange, not being all together in one place Our family split over a long distance. We embraced our quiet solitude Reflecting on our busy year Moving away from our home city Finding work and studying. We spent Christmas Day in our new place Work commitments over the following days Kept us from flying or driving away So, we enjoyed a simple Christmas lunch. We ate leftovers with some family and friends In the cool of the late afternoon And reminisced over the past Christmas days Hoping next year, we can travel to be with our family again. Beverley Joy © 2019 of Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. My poetry verses are available on print-on-demand gift ideas in my shop at beverleyjoy.redbubble.com. Read or listen to my poems at ⁠⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠⁠ on ⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠, ⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠, ⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠⁠. Thank you for listening to my poem. Why not listen to my other poems about gift-giving titled:

It's wonderful to enjoy Christmas Day all together in one place. But even the best plans can be turned upside down; Christmas Day can present challenges in getting the family together or getting along with everyone who has been invited. We want the day to run smoothly on this special day of the year. Sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn't—that's family life - full of pleasant surprises and challenges. Christmas Day can be messy for some families, whether due to work commitments, divorce, the loss of a loved one, or a lack of money to buy gifts. Poem: Together for Christmas Another Christmas comes and goes Our family spread from Coast to Coast We'll share Christmas lunch in Australian style Cold drinks, salad, and desserts in the summertime. My brother and wife, I don't see them much As they live a ten-hour drive away But we'll eat and chat when we catch up This Christmas Day together in one place. Mum's ill health and operations Dad’s knees are weak and keep failing him They're growing old and we must accept This Christmas may be the last one we share with them. Our children are healthy and busy They live independently, spread throughout the city But, on Christmas Day, we'll relax and enjoy their company And remember when we had such youthful energy. The grandkids run about and play With Christmas presents, they have received Their childish chatter smiles, and cries Keep the adults attentive to their needs. Christmas Day can be perfect or messy Satisfying or disappointing, memorable, or forgettable Either way, tradition draws families together To share the day, each family in their unique way. Beverley Joy © 2018 of Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. Listen to my other poem about Family Christmas: Far Away For Christmas, and my poems about gift-giving: A Hug is Priceless, The Best Gift to Give is You, and A Mirror Reflects What You Can Give. Read or listen to my poems at ⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠ on ⁠Instagram⁠, ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠YouTube⁠, ⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠.Thank you for listening to my poem. I wish you a wonderful holiday season. Beverley Joy.

The Story of Jesus Christ began in the Garden of Eden and will end in God's new garden. This Feature Image is the same one I used in The Christmas Story in the Garden of Eden Part 1. My interpretation of this image is that God's hands hold the garden. The smoke and fire rising from the garden depict the destruction of paradise by Adam and Eve's disobedience to God in the Garden of Eden. But there is a glimpse of a city on the other side of the fire, depicting God's promised new city and garden. The waterfall represents the river of life that will run through God's new garden. A lion depicts Jesus (Revelation 5:5), and the eagle with its wings spread wide, soaring over the garden, reminds me of one of my favourite verses in the Bible. (My poem titled Eagle Wings, based on Isaiah 40:31a): "But those who wait on the LORD shall renew their strength, they will soar on wings like eagles." Christians wait eagerly for God's new heaven and the new earth…He will dwell among His people. He will wipe away every tear…no more death, mourning, crying or pain… Those things will pass away. He will make all things new… Revelation 21.  Poem: Back to the Garden Through Adam and Eve's genealogy A baby was born in history Who grew to become the Saviour of the world To rescue mankind from sin and toil. Jesus showed us a glimpse of heaven on earth When He lived with us, He lived out God's love He healed the sick, and He fed the poor To the down and outcast, He showed mercy and grace. The first Adam failed in the first garden He lived one thousand years before he died The second Adam was Jesus Christ Willingly died to save mankind. From sin and death, He rescued us And put an end to the Adamic curse Now we eagerly await His return When King Jesus will rule in God's new garden. A new world with a Holy garden city Will be God's dwelling place with His people God will wipe away every tear and all pain Death shall be no more; all will be made new. Until His return, Jesus commanded the church To share the Good News and continue His work To care for the sick and dying of this world To show mercy and love to the down and outcast. As Christians, we wait eagerly for Jesus' return We encourage each other with His words "I will return, Live in peace and do not fear" Oh, I can't wait to walk in the garden with Him. Beverley Joy © 2022 Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. The poems in this series: The Christmas in the Garden of Eden - Part 1, Four Unusual Women - Part 2, 700BC - Part 3, Mary - Part 4, 23rd Nov, Mary and Elizabeth - Part 5, Joseph Part 6, The Savious is born - Part 7, Gifts fit for a king - Part 8, Quick, Save the Saviour - Part 9, Back to the Garden - Part 10. Read or listen to my poems at Simply Story Poetry on Facebook, Pinterest, YouTube and at simplystorypoetry.com and follow me on Instagram Thank you for listening to this poem. May God's blessing be with you. Beverley Joy

Joseph, Mary and Jesus escape to Egypt. This poem is about the events that followed the Wise Men's (Magi) visit to Joseph, Mary, and the child King, Jesus. You can read the story in Matthew 2:13-23. The ruler of that region, King Herod, who was known for murdering anyone he believed was a threat to his reign, was furious that the Magi did not report the whereabouts of Jesus to him. So, he orders all infants 2 years of age and younger to be killed in the vicinity of the city of Bethlehem. This story gives us a glimpse into Jesus' very early life.   The lyrics of the song "Mary, Did You Know" by Clay Aiken tell the story of the many loving and gracious miracles and wonders that Jesus would perform during his 3 years of ministry on this earth.  Poem: Quick, Save the SaviourAn angel of God spoke to Joseph in a dream “Get up! Take the Child and His mother, quick!” “Go to Egypt and live there until it’s safe For the angry king will search to kill the Child.” So, Joseph obeyed God’s angel With Mary and Jesus, he fled the town They travelled a six-day journey And lived in Egypt in safety.  This fulfilled a prophecy of God Told seven hundred years before Recorded in the Old Testament “Out of Egypt, I called My Son.” When the angry king died, an angel of God Spoke again to Joseph in a dream “Go back east now, to your hometown.” For it is safe to live there now. Joseph was afraid for Mary and the child When they approached their hometown, For the son of the angry king now reigned And he was more evil than his father. God told Joseph in a dream “Go to another town to live” So, they went to the small town of Nazareth Where he and Mary had been engaged. This fulfilled another prophecy Told back seven hundred years Recorded in the Old Testament “He shall be called a Nazarene.” Jesus the child king was raised Quietly, in their small hometown Without a crown, castle, or royal robes With no royal parade or entourage. He would grow up with his siblings, Obedient to God, Mary, and Joseph Learning his earthly father's trade Learning his heavenly father's way. He supported his family with his trade After his father passed away His royal hands splintered from carpentry While serving his family by earning a living. To be continued... Beverley Joy © 2019 of Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. The poems in this series: The Christmas in the Garden of Eden - Part 1, Four Unusual Women - Part 2, 700BC - Part 3, Mary - Part 4, 23rd Nov, Mary and Elizabeth - Part 5, Joseph Part 6, The Savious is born - Part 7, Gifts fit for a king - Part 8, Quick, Save the Saviour - Part 9, Back to the Garden - Part 10. Read or listen to my poems at ⁠Simply Story Poetry⁠ on ⁠Instagram⁠, ⁠Facebook⁠, ⁠YouTube⁠, ⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠and at ⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠. May you and your family have a blessed time this Christmas. Beverley Joy.

I wrote this poem while recalling memories of times spent with my brother and his wife and family, who live 800 km north of my hometown of Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. They come down to visit family and friends a few times a year. Every year, I wish I had the money and time to go up and see them. Finally, in 2019, I went up to live in their town for a year. Back in 2011, I went on a travelling/working holiday with my then-husband, driving across the top of Australia to Broome, Western Australia, 6000km away from my hometown. I missed my daughters and family so much, physically and emotionally; they felt so far away. I couldn't just jump in the car and drive down the road to visit them. It was a five-hour flight from Perth to Brisbane across the width of Australia to see them. After travelling for three years around Australia and Tasmania in our motorhome, I wanted to and needed to settle back to live within a two-hour drive of my daughters, my ageing dad and my family. Even though I don't live in their pockets, I find it comforting to know they are only a short drive or plane flight away. I couldn't imagine permanently residing in a different country from them, yet many people have to do just that.  My interpretation of the featured image, which I chose for this poem, is that the eyes gaze into the distance, slightly tired, patiently waiting, looking forward to the arrival, hoping the journey will be a safe one. The scenery is desolate and lonely, seeming to go on forever. Time is ticking away, stopping for no one, not the traveller nor the loved one at the other end of the journey. Life ticks away as we wait to travel. The clouds shield the sun's heat, showing mercy to the traveller. Will the clouds shower the traveller with refreshing light rain to cool the journey, or with a thunderstorm that hinders and delays the arrival? Either way, tears of joy will flow at the journey's end? Read or listen to my poems on ⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠Pinterest, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn ⁠⁠⁠⁠and at ⁠⁠⁠⁠simplystorypoetry.com⁠⁠⁠Thank you for listening. I really appreciate it. Beverley Joy

Wise men visit the child Jesus. It is uncertain exactly when the Wise Men, or Magi, visited Jesus. Still, it certainly wasn't at the same time as when the shepherds visited him, at his birth in the animal stable, as is commonly represented in Christmas scenes and on Christmas Cards. Apparently, it was sometime between a few months and two years after his birth. The Magi followed a star that miraculously guided them to Jesus, the child King. They first presented themselves to King Herod of Judea in Jerusalem to inform him of their purpose for visiting his kingdom: to see and worship the King of the Jews.  Herod did not know about this 'king of the Jews', and he felt threatened by this news. King Herod called a meeting with the scholars of law and Jewish religious leaders to learn what they knew about this event. They informed the King that the event fulfilled a Jewish prophecy told over 800 years earlier. When the Magi arrived at the house where Joseph, Mary and Jesus the child now lived, they gave gifts commonly given to honour a king, to Jesus - Gold for family wealth and as a symbol of kingship on earth, Frankincense as a precious expensive perfume and a symbol of deity and Myrrh an oil used for anointing and balming, and a symbol of death.  Poem: Gifts fit for a king Some time passed before the wise men arrived Having travelled with their entourage From an eastern kingdom to the king’s city Asking “Where is the child born to be King? “For we followed a star from the east afar To come and worship the future king.”  When the King heard this news, he was troubled, And so were all the town’s people. The king gathered all the religious leaders To ask them where this ‘king' might be? They said the prophecy in the Old Testament Said he would be born in Bethlehem. The King lied to the wise men “Go, search for him And when you find Him, report back to me, So that I too may worship this child king.” The same star led the men from the king’s city To the house where Jesus, Mary and Joseph lived They bowed and worshipped the child king Gave Him gifts of gold, myrrh, and frankincense. Warned by God in a dream, to not tell the reigning King Where the child king lived, So, they returned to their own country Travelling a different way east. We continue to worship King Jesus We bring Him gifts of obedience and service We wait in eager anticipation For His return and reign of our king and Saviour. To be continued... Beverley Joy © 2019 of Simply Story Poetry. All Rights Reserved. The poems in this series: The Christmas in the Garden of Eden - Part 1, Four Unusual Women - Part 2, 700BC - Part 3, Mary - Part 4, 23rd Nov, Mary and Elizabeth - Part 5, Joseph Part 6, The Savious is born - Part 7, Gifts fit for a king - Part 8, Quick, Save the Saviour - Part 9, Back to the Garden - Part 10. Read the story behind each poem - what inspired me to write it, why I chose the feature image, and references to what I read and studied to write the poem's content. Read or listen to my poems at Simply Story Poetry on Facebook, Pinterest, and YouTube, and at simplystorypoetry.com  and follow me on Instagram. Thank you for listening. Beverley Joy.