Sonnets by Robert Grob

I was born August 9, 1951 to Mary E. and Carl Robert Grob in Newton, KS. I showed a talent for music early and at the age of 5 began piano lessons, soon beginning to write my own songs. By the age of eleven I had developed an interest in poetry and have continued writing poems sporadically ever since. I attended Central College in McPherson, KS where I graduated with an A.A. and then Greenville College in Greenville, IL, where I graduated with a BA in Philosophy, Religion and Psychology. After pastoring a church for a year, I attended two years at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore KY. In 1983 after a heart attack and stroke I left the ministry and eventually found a job as a crisis hotline counselor on a statewide hotline, where I worked for six years. At the close of the hotline, my medical condition had worsened until eventually I was forced into the hospital and from there into a nursing home for three years. I got out about 9 months ago and have been working part time in a college cafeteria but am technically medically disabled. I spend a *lot* of time on the internet trying to witness for the Lord and also in writing poetry.


At times He seems so distant, so remote,
So unattainable, so out of touch
My prayers seem a self-deluding crutch
And I a beggar in a ragged coat.

I struggle to believe He really hears
And cares about my cries and desperate pleas.
I try to muster faith but it just flees
And all my efforts bring frustration's tears.

Why does the Bridegroom tarry and delay?
What purpose my frustration in my prayers?
Can it be faith is just delusion's airs?
Why does my Lord not answer when I pray?

Yet when I'm honest, search within my soul
I learn that pressure's diamond's made from coal.

Robert Grob
© 1995

The King Of This World

He preens and postures, boasting in his pride,

Of who he is and how the world awaits

The glory of his kingdom when the fates

Of all have been decided and we've died.

He longs for all that glory which he lost

When cast from heaven by the Lord Above:

Though third in power, wanting in his love -

For he who loves just self will pay the cost.

Is it a wonder, then, that selfishness

And cruelty go hand in hand with him?

The future of his followers is dim

Without the Lord of Love and Righteousness.

       For as a king they follow him to hell

       To join his kingdom in a prison cell.

                     Robert Grob

                    (c) 1995

The Fight

Sometimes it seems we simply can't go on

Beating heads against the walls of life

'Till bloodied, black and blue we bleat "Retreat!"

And crawl to caverns, caves of fear and doubt.

At times like that it seems all hope is gone,

That all we see is trouble, hurt and strife,

That every lesson learned we must repeat,

That good has lost and evil must win out.

Shall we then quit? Give up? Let others don

The victor's wreath while we wed failure's knife?

Is that to be our lot? Just bloodied meat

Well tenderized by beatings in the bout?

       By God's Name, NO! He would not find it right!

       No prize is given those who quit the fight!

                    Robert Grob

                    (c) 1995

The Panacea

When pain and sorrow carve great holes in trust;

When suffering sinks badger teeth in skin;

When best intentions crumble into sin

And our dreams prove they're ashes, dust and rust;

When all our hopes abandon us and flee;

When confidence is stripped of it's veneer;

When all our faith becomes distrust and fear;

It opens up our eyes to truely see.

Its not our efforts or our greatest deeds;

Its not our works or righteousness that saves;

No intellect feeds what our spirit craves

Nor are we satisfied by dry old creeds;

       One thing alone will comfort our distress -

       Jesus' arms of love will yet redress.

                    Robert Grob

                    (c) 1995

The Noise of Pain

What is the purpose of this suffering?

What great intent can justify this pain?

If God is sovereign does He not reign

Over our sorrows? Why no buffering?

When hearts are bleeding why does He not act?

When wounds begin to fester, where is He?

When we are hurting, can our Lord not see?

Is not our healing part of our contract?

Oh Master, we confess we cannot see

The purposes in what you here allow.

Your will be done! In trust we to you bow

And let you plan our end and destiny.

       You've told us suffering will end our sin:

       Help us hear that word above pain's din.

                    Robert Grob

                    (c) 1995


Someday we all will stand before His throne

And give account for all that we have done.

The Lord Himself will witness for His Own

Who as His bride, with Jesus will be one.

All the warfare that His bride has fought,

All the pain and suffering she has known

Will seem, to her in retrospect, as nought

As by His side she sits upon His throne.

But those who died as rebels must reply

To charges of rebellion - treason - worse!

Then as their life's reviewed, they'll hear him sigh,

Pronounce the words of sin's eternal curse:

       "Depart from me, ye workers of all sin!

       Only those I've bought may enter in!"

                    Robert Grob

                    (c) 1994

She Awaits

It's not been easy, waiting for him here.

Letters can't convey one's deepest needs.

Difficulties, enemies and fear

Have all assailed and influenced her deeds.

How often had her clothes become threadbare?

At times it seemed provisions had run out.

Oft' letters from him seemed haphazard, rare.

Yet still she waited, fighting off all doubt.

So she awaits. She longs to soon embrace

Her Lover who so long as been delayed.

She counts the moments 'till she sees His face

And knows her hopes and dreams are not betrayed.

       She knows His heart and knows He has not lied.

       Behold! He comes! The Bridegroom for the Bride!

                     Robert Grob

                    (c) 1994

Tornado Alley

The violence that's spreading in the land

Is not surprising when one knows the cause -

The games we've fed our children on demand

Have planted seeds and brought forth many flaws.

How often are they taught to sacrifice

Their conscience on the altar of their greed

By killing phantom enemies - the price

Of finding money for their every need.

Is it a wonder that they've made the jump

From cyberworld to grim reality

Applying violence as their last trump

Whenever challenged in ability?

       When sowing to the wind we ought to know

       By harvest time a whirlwind will grow.

                    Robert Grob

                    (c) 1994

Cup of Blood

Jerusalem, thy cup of fairest wine

Yet mixed with bitter dregs and poisons fowl

Has injured Israel's pace near finish line

Near blinding him with black and hooded cowl.

The Executioner yet plies his trade,

Assassin that he is yet trains his kin

And for your bitter cup will bare his blade

Engaging in the foulest vilest sin.

A state will rise, its leader of deceit

Will boast of peace yet build on lies and hate.

Insisting on your cup for his receipt

He'll claim a capital for his new state.

       When nations gather, threatening your cup

       The Bridegroom says we then should all look up!

                     Robert Grob

                    (c) 1999

A song written years ago:

The Writing On The Wall

We mocked the priests and desecrated

All the holy things;

We ate rich meat and bought it with

The lives of human beings.

We laughed and danced and had ourselves

A rollicking good ball

Until we saw the writing on the wall.

The day was done, the night grew close

And suddenly a chill

Crept o'er the room, the people there

Were looking mighty ill

And as I looked I saw the cause

Of the unearthly halt:

An unseen hand was writing on the wall.

We called the profs and demanded that

They tell us what it means

But none of them had ever heard

Of such as this it seems.

We then called in astrologers

And men skilled at their dreams

But none could read the writing on the wall.

Oh who can read the writing on the wall?

Oh who can tell the meaning of it all?

We then called in an aged man -

Daniel a Jew -

He said he knew the meaning by

Jehovah of the Jews.

He said it told our future.

There was nothing we could do

When he read to us the writing on the wall.

Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin,

Numbered, weighed and spent:

We who had the captives

To captivity were sent.

Our kingdom fell, our cities burned

And as we died we wept

For we hadn't read the writing on the wall.

Oh who can read the writing on the wall?

Oh who can tell the meaning of it all?

And now for America:

Mene, Mene, tekel, upharsin

Numbered, weighed and spent:

We who have the captives

To captivity will be sent.

Our kingdom will fall, Our cities burn

And as we die we'll weep

For we haven't read the writing on the wall.

                     Robert Grob

                    (c) 1974

Note, this is a song written in 1974 but God would not let me

release it until 25 years later. Much of what was written has

happened in spades since 1974. The rest is coming...