Maxwell Ryder > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

They wait on him, and wait, and wait, waiting every day, as he promised he’d descend; But hundreds of him are born every day in Mexic..

The specter of an autumnal scene leaves me bereaved. I wake to sunny skies Who went to bed before sunrise, Tucked in behind grey down blanket, ..

Humans, We are either cliques or cliches; Even both, I’m afraid, Yet we claim we are not The same, Ignoring DNA chains, And only fight ..

Time has too much of it on Its hands, That It will never tell Man. It didn’t tell Him when He began. Why should It tell Him of The End?

Written October 15, 2016

I can’t recall the slippery slope out into the great big wide world, but I hear was a tight and bloody. At least I didn’t come wrapped..

God torches aspen and oak every fall to warm souls over winter coals. 🍁 🍁 🍁 🍁

Written October 9, 2015 https://www.facebook.com/maxwell.glen/posts/10153337555868710

You took my life the way a gun does,Without a hole in the temple,Or the trickle of blood;My stare’s long and distant,Though it’s my feet..

I never felt like a failure Till I met my son, coming To meet the world From his mother’s womb. Did God feel the same About Jesus, when ..