Christian Fiction Freelance Writer
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Olivia Webb (0livia89) is a freelance writer living in the heart of North Carolina...
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The Place
When we are born, we develop within us a place,
It is an empty sort of place found in our very souls,
Often times we try to fill it in every way possible, with adventure, entertainment, love,
but, to no avail, it remains dark and cold.
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Deep down inside this emptiness we feel hinders us,
many vigorously spend their lives searching for peace,
In hopes that this inner peace can fill that place.
Many not only search for it but they spend their entire lives searching,
Yet instead of finding peace, their place enlarges and remains unfulfilled.
But please, don't get disheartened there is hope,
However it is clearly up to you to choose,
To keep it empty...or to fill your place with more than what this world could ever offer.
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Jesus can fill this place,
He is the only one who can fill that emptiness inside, with his everlasting peace, joy and his agape love.
All you have to do is choose him today, follow Him and that empty place will be empty no longer.
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by: Olivia Webb
Wind
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Wither the wind blows, I know not,
Sometimes its winter cold, sometimes it can be summer hot,
It crosses over seas and makes the ocean wave,
It whips over mountain peaks, crosses through city parks and lingers in the trees,
But from wither it comes, we know not.
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The wind is never seen with the human eye, so, how do we know its there?
Well, the wind can be felt as a gentle breeze upon the cheek,
We know it is there, as seen through the drifting of a cloud passing by,
We feel its affects, as it rushes swiftly through our hair,
But from wither it comes, we know not.
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The wind is just air right?
Air is used every day?
Common.
Well, if its common, then what would happen without it?
Do we even need it? What do we use air for?
Life, life without air would cease to exist,
It allows us to breath, breath deep,
to move objects effortlessly, to pollinate,
We need the wind,
Wind can sometimes be taken for granted,
We can't see it, which makes it difficult for us to remember its existance,
yet it is always there, wether we accept its existence or not,
But wither it comes, we still know not.
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God, is much like the wind,
He gently moves across homes,
Throughout churches, even amongst kin,
God even affects His children,
Allows us to breath freely,
Just as a gentle spring breeze rushes through us, So does His continual Love,
Like we do with the wind, please don't forget Him.
Because He has promised to never leave us,
He will always be there, Even when we forget
Even when we might take Him for granted.
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Olivia Webb
“Ode to the Slender Man”
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A tall slender man, no more than forty-two,
For miles he has walked according to his shoes,
His clothes are frayed, scruffy, and dirty,
His life once successful when he became thirty,
A corporate man, a white collar worker,
CEO of a company, with a million dollar venture,
One look at his ripped weathered briefcase,
You can see sorrow is written on his face,
Over the years his once loyal friends,
Took advantage of a moment and dealt with hard hands,
His millions now gone, his life now astray,
What will become of him after today?
A phone call interrupts his thoughts,
His wife has declared she’s now calling the shots,
He’s wasted their money, their time, and their lives,
And some of her words seem to cut through him like knives,
She hangs up with him and calls him no more,
This marriage has suffered since they walked through their door,
Their first child still born, the second born ill,
Their Baby’s health was unstable and now baby's losing his will,
Since birth their dear son lied in a hospital ward,
Dying of cancer and soon their pulling the chord,
His son of three years has lived a hard life,
With dad never around and a sad ridden wife,
All of a sudden death enters the room,
The three-year-old boy is covered in doom,
The chord is now pulled his little life gone,
Father distraught without knowing what’s wrong,
This man has suffered so much in his life,
From a sick dying child, a sad ridden wife,
He becomes overwhelmed when he answers his phone,
The death of his child has now left him alone,
Sad over everything, feeling his loss,
He jumps from a bridge and doesn’t consider the cost,
His wife now a widow having to bury her son,
A sad tale is woven Nothing left to be done.
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written by: Oliva Webb
"The Secret Gift"
Bestowed to us on the day of our birth is a unique gift
Parents help keep this gift safe until the time is right
At first not knowing what this gift is may be daunting
But what you don’t know will be revealed once grown
True understanding of this gift becomes more apparent with age
Now we are secretly holding onto something very special
A gift not easily relinquished, for once given its gone
How will this gentle gift be given, and when?
Will we yield it flippantly to whoever may draw near to our path of life
Will it be shared at a young age or old
Sometimes it’s taken without consent
Other times its entrusted to another
Saying "I DO" at the alter and the exchanging of gifts
Timeless, memorable, precious, and sacred
No one else has been granted this privilege before
Now your gift belongs to another
Committed to give, you then also received
What you held most precious belongs to him and his is yours
Over time you will continually exchange your gifts
Now not knowing who holds whose gift now
The gift itself is merged into one.
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by: Oliva Webb