T. Michael Francis 

Midwest, USA

In my poetry, I try to give glory to God, and to show love to my fellow man. I have written and published 2 trilogies of poems. The first trilogy, called Come Closer To God, will appear in bookstores around the world in February of 1999. I also have another trilogy of poems, called In Love With God, which is soon to be published also. Each trilogy contains 3 books of poetry. I work as a mortgage broker by trade, and I have done this now for thirteen years. I plan to continue both my mortgage brokerage work and writing poetry. I have just finished my book of poetry called The Grace of God. It is not yet published. May God bless anyone who reads my books.

Cries Of The Innocent Ones

How many cries must we hear, 
On innocent ones torn from their wombs so dear; 
Of limbs ripped apart by the evil of man, 
And thrown down into a dirty trash can? 
Even the hardest of hearts you would feel, 
Would feel remorse for its murderous zeal. 
Yet thousands and thousands die each day, 
Without even getting the chance to say, 
"Don't do this to me, I beg you, please! 
If only I was born, I would get on my knees!" 
But to these little martyrs we all must pray, 
For their intercession to God will help us each day. 
God's mercy is great, do not forget! 
Please repent, you will not feel regret! 
How many cries must we hear? 
How many cries will we hear this year?

When The Harvest Comes

Some people work in a factory called a sweat shop, 
They work from sunrise till after dark, and don't stop. 
The blind man lives by himself in a room, 
He cannot see, so each day is filled with gloom. 
A crippled man begs for food from his wheelchair, 
He often thinks that life is very unfair. 
A homeless man in a small, dirty bed does flop, 
For a job he would gladly jump and hop. 
A cult member, on a street, flowers does sell. 
His mind has been brainwashed, and he fears hell. 
What do all these poor people share? 
They all will receive God's love and care.  
For God will never desert them, this I know, 
And when their misery ends, to Paradise they will go. 
Some people work in a factory called a sweat shop, 
And when the harvest comes, they will be part of God's crop. 
 

They Hung Love Upon A Tree

They hung Love upon a tree, 
So that all mankind would be set free. 
They took Love down from the tree, 
And placed Love in a tomb, for you and me. 
Love was raised from the dead, 
The stone rolled away from His bed. 
Love's face shown bright to Mary that day, 
After she found the stone rolled away. 
"Where did they put Him?" she sadly cried, 
For in her heart she thought Love had died. 
Then to others, too, so glorified Love appeared. 
"Love is alive!" they joyfully cheered. 
They hung Love upon a tree, 
Our sins are forgiven, we can now see.