The light is bursting at the seams of the curtains,
am I ready to let it in.
The night was warm but yet the morn is
 waiting to fade the dim.
It may be early, it might be late.
But the night will have to wait.
The morning is here, the darkness and fear
Have fled for another day.
May the Prince of Peace be near to me
- For with Him all times are best.
His light is bursting at the seams,
This hour, and all the rest .

- By Lakechia Jeanne ©

Daughter of the Divine

I've been so encouraged recently, by the international community of Christian girls I have recently discovered. Sometimes we can feel isolated, like no one seems to following the same path as you and your pursuit of God. (more about this on ~ 3000SOULS ~) I'd like to let you know, in reading this that there are many in this body, and many in this walk with Christ. Only God knows the extent of that statement, but I am encouraged to know that the next generation of the future matriarch in the Kingdom of God is rising. I want to be a part of this outreach and the work of the Christian sisters rising together.
Do you ?

I wrote this in response to an online community that I was so inspired by.
I am an incredibly inspired by their articles, and they are contributing to the great movement of this generation towards the Throne of God.

Dainty Jewels, and dainty minds. She's intentional , Unafraid to redefine.

What it means to be a Lady of The Lord and a daughter of The Divine.

She's more precious than rubies, and to her nothing can compare,

The heart of a virtuous child of The King. His love to the world she will share.

She is confident and always true, though in the soul she is meek.

A smile in her eyes and a joy deep inside - It is God that she seeks.

She not afraid to be different, and only wants the approval of One.

She dances in the rain. And lives her life in The Son.

In humility, integrity and elegance; in His light she will shine.

Dainty Jewels, and dainty minds. She's intentional , Unafraid to redefine.

By Lakechia Jeanne

DoPoetry©
~ Inspired by daintyjewellsblog.com

True Beauty

So its the last days before we officially enter into the Christmas season, and I am very excited to begin my long list of watching Christmas movies, singing Carols and Christmas-sy songs among other things.It just goes so fast . Time, I mean. And from my childhood till know seems so much shorter than it felt at the time. But: 'it's like this : when I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child does. But when I grew up, I put away childish things.' I feel like I'm entering into Young Lady-ship (if there was ever a word). I saw myself as a girl before, but that's changed.

And it makes me wonder, what sort of Lady would I like to be ? Where , in the realm (because that what it seems like) of femininity should I place myself. There are many different kinds and types of women out there. And the extremes are more than evident in today's world.

I was speaking to a guy I met at church about how he views the stereotypical : 'feminist' the go-getter woman who will stop at nothing to achieve more than her male counter parts.
He said : " I think, [in the Christian World] it puts us in an awkward position. We don't know what they want ... and its [feminist] not the sort of woman I would want to have in my life".

I wouldn't say I'm anti-feminist, I most certainly believe in equality but The Bible has made the position of men and women very clear. ~See1PETER3"8
I believe in the women of God who exuberate elegance and beauty from within more than anything else.
What about you ?

True beauty and elegance come from inside.
You cant read books about it, learn its creed . What you possess, you cant hide
Love is not blind, her eyes are wide open to the personalities of each soul she may meet .
We must never fail to smile, to young and old and never fail to greet -
Those who pass us by with a twinkle in their eye. True beauty at its peak.
A calm and gentle Spirit. A Spirit that is meek.
Keep your wit, your sharp and charming edge, but only use it once in a while.
Elegance is easy, and you can stay classy; if you never forget to smile.

By Lakechia Jeanne ©

~ Inspired by 1Peter2”4

With a Strength Defined

With a strength defined, you can move a mountain.
With a song in mind arrange a piece for two.
A journey planned presents a grand end.
And an old memory a friend you once knew.
With a love so dear, you can trace a relationship.
To the stem and the roots on which it did stand.
With the sharing to a kin all the worlds burdens can be lifted,
And with the warmth of one to hold your hand-
You can climb the past and face the future,
With an advantage only One can see.
From all of creation : 'The Earth you must be good to her'
Because the One who made her made you and me.

- By Lakechia Jeanne ©

~ Inspiration from the song : God I love you so, Freddie Hayler

I was reading a blog post of a shared story where a lady was in a rush a particular day, and was irritant at a car in front of her whilst in a drive-through , and that when she drove up to the desk to order, the lady she was annoyed at that morning had paid for her breakfast. It was a lovely story , and I instantly realised how much we can rush through life, and never stop to smell the roses, appreciate someone or make someone feel special. I was reminded of a passage in the Bible that encourages us to show love to absolutely everyone." Don't forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it! " - And not just for that reason, but Jesus showed us His love through living His life , dying and rising again for us. Love is not a hidden quality. Love is only love when you give it away.

 There are angels all around you , though you never seemed to know .

They're with you now - your family . And sometimes made in the snow .

They don't always come dressed in white with a halo on their head.

Some times they're in the dark, and kiss you goodnight before you go to bed.

They're in front of you at the drive-up while you wait in the order queue.

They smile at you as you walk on the asphalt ,

They're the friend you never knew.

Be kind to those around you, let them see how you care,

Do not not forget to show hospitality to strangers,

you maybe entertaining angels unaware .

By Lakechia Jeanne ©

~ inspired by Hebrews 13"2

Every House

Every house has a builder,

Every song, someone to sing.

In every doctor is a Healer,

And a jeweler makes a ring.

In every clay jar is a potter, 

In every kingdom a king,

It's funny to think we might have forgotten ...

That God,  made everything.

Strong and Graceful Oaks

Strong and graceful oaks dance in the waves of the wind
For the LORD has planted them near the water.
Their descendants are known and seen above many,
Their leaves seem never thinned
And in their paths lie no dishonor.
The LORD and His favour has come, it has been brought to us here;
My soul is renewed.
So those who have ears, let them hear
Before the day all actions are viewed.
My mind is restored and offered up in glory.
Let this be the start
Our one and only our Resurrection story.
Our prayer, is a willing heart.

-Inspired by Isaiah 61

By Lakechia Jeanne ©

I wrote this poem during the summer , I normally keep my poems in a diary , a special place where all my thoughts and emotions, prayers and answered revelations are kept and stored.

I feel that there will be a time and place in my future where God will want me to look back over the past moments and memories and learn and grow and enrich my spiritual storage.

I often find, when glancing at past memoirs, I am really able to find in myself a source of gratitude , and having tangible and concrete proof of past experiences to the present-day helps in my expression of gratitude to God.

I never read my diary entries - 

That are close to the existing time.

It just feels wrong, For the phase incomplete

Must be read at my prime.

But there will be a time when I'll read and read;

When I'll relive the memories of the past.

And reminisce on the emotions of before,
The times that did not last.

That time is getting closer still, but today is not that day.

So I'll close the book, keep it safe and pack it far away.

By Lakechia Jeanne ©

I am most definitely a home-town girl. I have been all my life , but moving to a new city and a new place has really brought out characteristics in me that I never knew I had.
I've had to make decisions by myself and become responsible for everything I do. However I feel like all of the lessons I have been taught by my mum, especially and all of my family and friends over the years are finally being put to test. I have had to get out of my own comfort zone and I get to spend more time with God than ever before - its amazing. And being on this new journey makes me anticipate for the future.

Many thing are new, and artifacts are old
Many faces contain clues, their secrets untold.
And though I stand clear of strangers here and there.
I struggle to find one near. A friend just and fair.
The skies are grey and dusty, the pearly whites have gone.
But in time we'll see the sun, again as it once shone.


By Lakechia Jeanne ©

Summer has been going really well, I went away to a beautiful place called Cornwall . It was a long trip down, but so worth it. The views were unlike anything I had ever seen in the British countryside before, and the clear water beaches were amazing. It was peaceful, serene. I had time to think.

Just before I left, I found out that my very dear friend had gone to be with the Lord. She was 80 and so beautiful, we shared alot together, and she was a light for so many while here. I'm funny like that, I don't mind how old you are. If my heart meets yours, we can be best friends.

If my heart meets yours, and our inner selves connect.

If our eyes meet in love, and our smiles we never forget.

If my mind thinks of you no matter the distance apart.

Your age in truth is irrelevant. For rare is a good heart.

(I wasn't planning to write that, so the next poem is my intentional post for today. And a tribute to my dear friend.)

The Candle Maker

The light will not be chuffed out.

No flicker, no flame, will ever suffer blame-

This cold wind from the open fields,

Will not harm this candle that I shield.

My candle shone, many years went by-

It flickered it flamed. It will not die.

The rain tried to run her away, 

And snow tried to freeze her heat.

The breeze tried to mellow her light -

But, the flame my hands warm will keep.

And even though the light, my eyes no longer can see,

Does not mean the light will no longer be.

My Jesus has taken the candle, to put in His homes lantern.

So though I cannot see it...

Forever her flame will burn.

The Candle Maker took away my candle.

I held her close and dear.

He took her away after a while, and wiped from my eye a tear.

'Why do you take her away?' I say.

'My candle is precious to me.'

"I promise her away for one short day,

In time her light you will soon see."

I miss my candle very much, but the Candle Makers' home is bright.

It's warm flickering array of candles guide me home tonight.

And in His good will one day complete, I'll travel to His home to see;

My candle on His lamp stand meet. Burning. Brightly.

By Lakechia Jeanne ©

Its the summer , and I've gone to see some family a while away from home. Its amazing to be a part of a group of people who have an underlying connection that can never be taken away from them.
I'm am so blessed to have a family who are so loving. One of my cousins is a toddler and I've been having such an interesting time watching him grow so fast. Having him around gives me such happiness. I love him so much it hurts . 
I found a few thoughts I had written months ago based around these  very emotions.

The Baby Boy

No child is perfect, though perfect they may seem,

When their early morning wide eyes blink innocently; rising from a long nights dream.

But every child is perfect, just ask their mother's so. 

For sure one would be cautious and sceptic if their answer - say, was 'no'.

You see in the eyes of a mother, perfection is defined

By the dimples in cheeks, calls in the night and toys left behind.

The softness of the patch if skin right between the chin and the chest.

For a kiss in that very spot leaves her with a wistful bliss. 

She knows her baby's the best .

And looking down at God's greatest gift leaves an immeasurable joy.

There is nothing more endearing than the eyes of a baby boy.

- Lakechia Jeanne ©

The support I have been receiving from all who appreciate the words I write is overwhelming. Looking at the statistics from when I started till now; and seeing how wide the reading audience has spread is extremely humbling. I am so grateful.

I was reading the Bible with my mum a few mornings ago, and she read a verse that really inspired me to write - she thought I was making notes on the scripture, but in the middle of our morning quiet time I wrote this :

Beauty of a Wildflower

The beauty of a wildflower

The glory of a grass blade

The blue summer days, that never seem to fade.

Come to an end, slip away.

Nothing is forever- except your eternity,

Never say never- we have no certainties.

Except for the One who is perfect.

Don't build on silver or gold,

They will soon become worthless.

Build on the sure foundations

Conform to His likeness.

And as the day unfolds, don't say you were never told.

Look around you; to the pieces of rugged tree on high.

The time is near and now, for the end is nigh.

Inspiration from ~ 1 Peter 1v24
By Lakechia Jeanne ©

Do not resent the journey

Do not resent the journey

Forever young is a state of mind

Memories are only lost if left behind.

Life keeps moving, so you must do too;

Cherish your moments they go far too soon.

And in the mean while, as time passes by,

Don't loose your happiness, the glistening in your eye.

Sure things can happen, it is not always fair -

But success comes from determination. You will definitely get 'there'.

Do not resent the journey, do not grow weary of time.

For when the moment is right, you'll be sure to shine.

The Midst above the Puddles

The midst above the puddles seem like angels standing by ,
Watching the with gentle, thoughtful and the most diligent of eyes.
The reflection of the sky in the puddles, seem like pieces that have fallen down to earth,
Fragments of blue and light, colours of the the most worth
But when you step in the puddles those pieces are broken away.
The fragile glimpses of heaven- no longer here to stay.

So please don't step in the puddles, for as perfect as they are,
They can be broken, rapidly torn and their reflection distant and far.

I will not step in the puddles.
I will not damage what has been made; by the dew from the storehouses of heaven
The sky on earth is saved.

By Lakechia Jeanne ©

When hard times inspire ...

I recently discovered that: great disappointments in life bring out your true character and personal nature . You discover the essence of your soul and truly evaluate everything that you live for once a dream that you had been hoping and praying for falls to the ground.
Your optimism is tested, and your courage refined.
I often think, maybe the creator of the universe is trying to tell me something. This defining moment is one where you never look back . You stand exactly where you are and accept your mistake, learn from it .
You look to the future and refuse to be defined by your current status.
Most importantly. You find yourself. And you find God .
This next poem I wrote was inspired from a series of my diary entries straight after I had received quite physically the biggest disappointment I'd  ever experienced. It was a dark time. But things are much more clear when you see through God's eyes. I know it wouldn't have happened if it wasn't meant to be . I trust the divine will; and am expectant and resilient for whatever the future may bring.

The Faith

I can't see this as I write it.
The darkness is closing in.
I can't see it as I imagined ,
Like the fall away from sin.
The scene of hope is lost and gone,
The future seems bleak and dark -
but that's my eyes,
and in deep disguise,
I know my heart.
There's a hope buried deep beneath the ground,
Where soul and spirit meet .
There's an inner strength, I know will rise -
Though see still my heart is weak.
There's a hope, hidden deep in the sound of a tomorrow,
Ignited by the Maker Meek.
And a light at the end of this night.
A faith - for which I seek.


By Lakechia Jeanne ©

The Journey

Even now as I look out to the passing blue above me,
Even now as I write my thoughts on the shades of white in front of me.
Even now as I hear the wind blowing through my window pane ...
I think .
I wonder .
On the life that is ahead of me.
On what day will I see the world for what it truly is ?
At what time will I realise how precious it is in passing ?
Which hour will bring God's greatest gift into my life -
And how will the most significant minute arrive by my side ?
At what moment -
Will joy overflow with abundance and fill my heart ?
These questions follow me day and night,
 but still The unanswerable answers continue my mind to fill.
How soon will the time be ?

Dear God the way, please show me.
And help me to enjoy the journey.


By Lakechia Jeanne ©

Here is a poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago , after I finished writing it , I found that I myself had to go back, re- read, try and make sense out of it . I guess is was written in an absent state of mind . I find that my favourite poems normally are . Where you don't think about the words ... you just let them flow.

The deepest parts of sincere hearts 

Weeping is the fountain from which deep waters flow,
From the deepest parts of sincere hearts- places one will ever know.
I am fixed on the things of surpassing greatness,
Even though in present, my mind feels weightless-
How will I catch it ?
Oh do not fly away .
I want to hold you in my hand. Grasp you. Please stay.
Always want to control the things that cant't be tamed.
Want to capture the moment without it being framed .
Yes all things are good . Yes all things are bad .
But if what is happening is really happening ,
 How can we know what we once had ?


By Lakechia Jeanne ©

Patching up the Crimson Field

 Have recently started watching a new BBC miniseries. And I have to say , it has really surprised me. It is an amazing series, not the typical world war drama- it has such depth , and I love how graphic they have made the horror of war appear, I really enjoy watching it . And Oona Chaplin is an amazing actress. Her eyes convey such depth and her character is so complex ; she definitely does a great job of communicating 'kittys' emotions. 

Aside from the series itself . I've always respected the war veterans , and everything they experienced. The beginning of the series shows a poppy been sewn together, I thought it represented so much. I had to write about it. Here it is :

Patching up the Crimson Field :


Mending the poppies 
Patching up the Crimson field
Don't let the wind whisp away the petals far.
Bring the flowers and lay them down.
By the cold stones planted in the ground.
Mend the wounds , patch up the crimson scars.
The trauma and memory , oh so distant but not so far.
Gather the harvest . The lives well loved. 
The battle well fought.
Keep in mind. Rest your head.
Eyes are heavy , but not for the bed.
Clasp the pictures gaze at fear.
Vision is cloudy , spirit is clear.
 Look to the Maker , look up to the sky .
Who ever thought it would be your time to -
The ground is brown no hope insight .
Gaze into the future what sheer delight .
Mending the lives, war- torn, without shield .
Mending the poppies ,
Patching up the crimson field.




- by Lakechia Jeanne ©

Divine Inspirations

Wide as I can, I will stretch.
Small as I am, with every breath.
Refreshing breeze fill me empty.
Refine my soul, wash me gently.
Come and kiss my tears away, 
Come and make the laughter stay.
In due time when the perfect is shown,
Show me the path from which you have blown.

- Lakechia Jeanne ©

MOTHERS DAY

Its just recently passed mothers day here in  the UK ... Words are the best gift , and I hope this mothers day brings you great joy.

This mothers day poem remembers the individuals whose mothers are not within reachable distance . Hope you enjoy .



The Missing Mother 


A long time ago in a land far away
Lived a little boy and girl,
They were happy enough to play in the grass
And in the fields twirl,
They would run in the mountains full of glee
And joyfully in the planes sing ,
But in spite of all their adventurous ventures
Something was missing.

Alas, it grew to be their first day at school
Their lunches were packed, 
Their uniforms pressed and starched like the finest of wool
They leapt on the playground and made new friends 
Though some to their parents were clinging
They kissed goodbye with sparkles in their eyes , but
Something was missing.

They soon became teenagers, when no one seemed to understand
They had the wise words of a father,
But no one to hold their hand.
No one to heal their heart brakes 
Or act absurd when their sports teams were winning 
The teenage boy and girl soon realised that 
Something was indeed missing.

And when they moved away from home, 
No one called them 3 times a day.
No one worried about them in the night -
And would earnestly wake up to pray .
There was no one to cry frantically though a reason for rejoicing,
The adolescent boy and girl felt empty
Something was definitely missing.

The day they dreamed of finally arrived ;
The young lady and gent were going to be wed.
But who would fuss over the small details ?
Or memorise the guest list by head ?
Who would arrange the florists or teach the ballroom dancing ?
There was someone to walk the girl down the aisle , but
Someone else was missing .

And when the magic day was over
And a year or two were spent,
Who would cook for the boy when his wife was absent ?
Who would teach the girl how to clean around vases fragile.
For surely a girl must be taught.
And learning, for some may take a while.

And so finally the day came , when the little girl was no longer small.
She was soon herself to have a little one - the greatest gift of all.
But when the baby would come into the world, what would she be ?
A carer ? A kin ? Or a parent ? - partially.

She didn't know what to do, for she had never seen

The nurturing hands of a female providing love by the simplest of means.

So here's to all the children who love their mothers so.

But whose mothers have been absent for those special moments long ago.

The first walk, the first word, or even the first cry  - 

For we know that a mothers love reaches higher than the sky .

And here's to all the mothers who have those special moments missed .

We love you so, and we hope you know precisely and exactly this : 

Whether we were good or bad, you always, always cared, and wherever you are, whether near or far, 

We are thankful to God for the moments we shared.

- Lakechia Jeanne ©




(All Poems are copyrighted to this account and failure of recognition will lead to legal case)