stories of travel, medical missions, and more
bright lights
red and white
flash on
off
nonstop
they bounce from stop sign
to road line
reflected back to my nighttime eyes
ears thirst for drunken burst
of up/down horns
like Miles Davis’ trumpet mourn
an uneven sing-song
dissident and wrong
but right, just the same
and in the darkness
in all this chaotic fineness
people call out for a caring hand
a soul to understand
so, we go
anthony forrest
Plant me now, Lord, in the woods of your love
With the other trees
Gifted from above
An eternal life with You
Drag down these roots into the soil
Seeking water and comfort
In a life of toil
Wearied by daily cares
Plant me now, Lord, by your cooling stream
Whose waters comfort
And clean
Giving growth and fruit
To your child
anthony forrest
I hesitated to write the following post. The main goal of this blog is to entertain people, offer them joy, and give a glimpse of the world abroad. Most of the writings you find here are lighthearted and tell tales of travels.
What follows wanders slightly from the intended path. What follows shows the dark and light of what I do. I rarely write poetry or stories about my work as a paramedic. But my work life, travel life, personal life, and Christianity are actually all one. The overflow of these things produces my poetry. And though what follows may start in darkness, I promise it ends in light. I promise it ends in Hope.
He Prays at the Feet of a Dead Man
One moment standing, drawing breath
Heart pounding unaware of
Death
At the door
Breath
No more
-Our Father, who art in heaven-
Help is coming- “soon” is an eternity
But the caring-ones come
Hastily
They fight
Skillfully
For life
-Hallowed be thy name-
Yet, despite hopeful care
Death smiles
That Evil smile
And we despair
Battle done
No more trial
Death has won
-Thy kingdom come-
Mourning tears stain cheeks
Streaks down makeup
Of mothers
Of wives
Now alone
Family, minus one
-Thy will be done-
stop
Turn and notice the Cross
On the kitchen wall
House awash
With God
I think, “Not lost”
And wife gives a nod
-On earth as it is in heaven-
Here, a poorly kept secret
Of a faith till the end
This secret
A burning life
Alight
With Christ
and so…
Dabbing eyes now
And in sorrow, smiling
Knowing how
This man
This dead man
On the floor
No more
Drawing Breath
Can yet live
Death, you have no sting
For this man
Who had faith in a King
Was truly delivered from evil
-Our Father, who art in heaven-
anthony forrest
Oh, the pains of the searching
and seeking
to find
peace in a time
of chaos and fear.
Though life may appear
dark
and the evil stark,
fear not,
for the sun shall always rise.
Oh, the woeful tales cried in the streets;
they vie for attention,
and at their very mention
cause memory loss
of the Maker,
the Orchestrator,
of all the world in full.
Oh God, grant us clarity—
your charity, we beg
when dark grow the
skies.
Open our scaly eyes
to the Prince of Peace,
the Righter of ships,
from who’s lips
springs the Sword
of the Word—
the ruin of all evil things.
anthony forrest
as the old comes to close
the end now in sight
it’s easy to glance backward
at the plight
and failures
of the unmet goals
so resolute at the first
we met life with thirst
ready to drink it down
but this glass had holes
and now it ends
a new time is come
more of the same?
perhaps
but such a shame
to go about this world
without a hope stirred
in our hearts
awaiting
better things to come
anthony forrest
Not for lights not for laughter
Not for feasts nor the fellowship after
Not for friends nor for family
Not for the gifts though given are many
Without all these things a reason there is none
Save that God sent His only begotten Son
He is the reason that Christmas is here
His Child should be the focus of our holiday cheer
Not for trees in the houses nor boxes on the shelves
Not for the time we spend shopping for somebody else
Without all these things a reason there is none
Save that God sent His only begotten Son
anthony forrest
Night after night I turn to my left
And raise my eyes
To the skies
Through the window
I raise my sight
And search this night
For the skyward evening traveler
And each night
He is there
Like a dare
Never to cease
And never seeking release
From his nightly travels
Horizon to horizon
He makes his trip
Being eaten bit by bit
Till gone
Only to be resurrected again
And take his place above men
anthony forrest
Though I have not Kentucky fields
And all the crops she yields
And sloping valleys that cut
Like ruts
Carved by creeks that flow
and flow
I have not Kentucky
But she has my thoughts
anthony forrest
oh, the joys of the unknown
fear of not knowing
a growing concern
a stern
feeling of a loss not yet lost
like tearing a letter
open
and then, “what’s this?”
the opposite of the wish
junk mail—rubbish
and yet
the heart palpitates
anticipates
still the same
and goes on
anthony forrest
Though the sky should darken
on a sudden,
and the air grow sharp and chill.
The trees yield not their bounty.
Look! From the sky begins to spill
a new kind of bounty.
Though this time feels out of time,
and unexpected changes flow.
It’s through God’s crafted surprises
that He causes me to grow
and shift into the better shape of Christ.
anthony forrest
© 2025 Travel and Verse
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑