Welcome to the New Poets of Immortality! by Elisabeth Cooper

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In this space you will find an ever growing collection of beautiful and truth telling poetry and poets. There will be multiple posts per month, so we hope you will visit often. We are currently in the beginning stages of a spoken word project that we can’t wait to release to you all. Look out for updates in this space and on fb and instagram!

"Beauty will save the world.”

-Fyodor Dostoyevski

Words are containers for power, you choose what kind of power they carry.”

-Joyce Meyer

Hearts of Fire and Steel by Elisabeth Cooper

Bring back the fervid zeal

The hearts of fire and steel

The hands that believe and build

Bring back the words of silk and hammers

The spirits in light crafted

The minds of wisdom and wingspread 

Let the promise of beyond what we see awaken

The breathe of the Lion flow

In embers and winds of Eden we wake to the glow



There’s a great stirring

A great knowing

A great burning

Sparks fly 

Light cries

There’s a loud bellow

A great calling

A great falling

Of fire


Change comes

Historys’ future

We wake the earth

With thunder

With wonder

By Elisabeth Cooper

The Storm Riders Almanac: Page 439 by Elisabeth Cooper

Hey there, Sister,

See any twisters 

along this rugged plain, 

stirrin’ up dust 

and causin’ a ruckus ?

That’s what I thought. 

They know better than to show their naughty selves to me. 

I am a Storm Rider.


You want to know 

how I do it?

Lean in,

as the wind blows 

so you can catch a listen, 

close by this campfire.  

Let me fill 

your metal cup,

and I’ll tell you what the 

Thunder told me 

on that dark night

long ago. 

Here is what you do—

Tear this page out,

and put it in your pocket, 

or stick it to your looking glass—

I can tell by looking at you. 

One of these days, 

you’re going to

need it. 

Here it is. 

(Are you ready?)

You tell that storm your secrets. 

That’s right. 

You tell it every 

shining golden egg 

of a dream. 

Tell it every worst terrible

shivering thing. 

But you must 





Never lie

to that Fee-Fie-Foe-Fummer. 

It can sniff out a faker 

like the giant sniffs out blood and bone. 

Tell it your secrets.  

Walk into that lightning booth 

and make an honest woman of yourself. 

Count your sins out 

on the white beads of that hail, Mary,

And when you’ve come clean 

before the dark robe of the sky  

You stand upright.  

Hold your head high,

and take a risk—

And you tell that storm 

right where it can go. 

By Amy Axby

Zion by Elisabeth Cooper

We carved our hearts

In the mountain sound

And the sound of the mountain

Carved its heart in us

Imprinted with the words 

of thundering drums

Surrounded by light

of dancing strings


Voices of bells 

Announcing freedom 

The air is alive with music

The colors are alive with Wisdom

Zion has a hold on me

The music of this city is home to me

I’m caught in patterns of the mountains light

Finding lost memories 

Of before

My before

In folds and crevices 

Valleys and peaks

I have come to find 

Where I was born

In the dream of a King

Washed in wonder and possibility

The hues of Zion 

In the city of my heart


I’m in the city 

And the city is in me

Identity carved 

In waters deep

Deep mountain waters

Sing with fire, wine, and oil

Born in blood and water

In the rhythm of His heartbeat

I remember 

My origin

Zion singing

By Elisabeth Cooper

The Substance of Grace by Elisabeth Cooper

The substance of grace

Like liquid time

Like holy wine

Rises under me

Like wings and tides

Like song and rhyme


The breaking of ground

The thunder of the sound

Of justice


Carrying, lifting

Weighing, sifting

The empowerment of the ages

In the substance of grace 

Over me

By Elisabeth Cooper

Awakening by Elisabeth Cooper

If I run




If I speak




If I love




If I sing




If I rest




The Great Thunder

The Great Light

The Great Power

Permeates and quakes the nations

By Elisabeth Cooper

The Storm Rider’s Almanac: Page 103 by Elisabeth Cooper

One time 

I spread my wings

and flew across the world,

Dorothy riding her tornado stallion

all the way to Wonderland. 

When I got there 

I defied gravity

on the Roller Coaster of Doom,

and, oh, what the hell,

I cut my hair.

Tip:  Do you know that you should 

watch out when a woman does that—

The Big Chop?

It’s a clue. 

Hark, listen up now!

She is fixin’ to go 


and if you look too long

into those black eyes, Susan,

she will take you with her,

right down that rabbit hole.

But let’s 

be sure to

be clear:

I didn’t fall,

I jumped. 

I took the long way down,

and I heard demons there,

and I saw them too

as they slithered their way 

behind my back

and stabbed me with their silvery tongues. 

But sometimes you let them do it,

don’t you?

You let them have their way with you,

because you love the ones that kissed you

with demons in their mouths. 

I met the King and all his minions

and the Queen 

with her red hearts for eyes. 

She loved me, it’s true, 

but she was mad as a hatter. 

I grew a lion’s mane. 

A good trim on a 

Super Full Wolf Blood Moon 

will do that,

but only if you believe it. 

I grew a lion’s heart too.

I didn’t know a haircut could do that, 

but I guess I should have. 

And the Mind of the Universe,

it shrunk itself

and curled up in my hand

like a golden kitten. 

The next thing I knew 

I had new shoes on my feet 

that burned like fire 

in a good way. 

The tag read “Home Sweet Home,”

behind a picture 

of the sweetest smiling 

blue-eyed man—

The brand, I guess, 

but I’d never heard of it. 

I contorted myself,

my lands,

you should have seen it,

so I could rest my head 

on those shoes, 

and I slept like the dead. 

And when I rose again,

I laughed like a baby,

nestled in a treetop. 

By Amy Axby

Ox and Yokes by Elisabeth Cooper

I’ve found a tangle-thrill light

Cast from feather-formed heights

Shadows of flames form love in my eyes

The whirling sets me twirling

Into a chorus unfurling 

As I fly up into fire-filled skies

The secret is freedom

Fear I left in the chaos below

My heart strings tune to sounds

My mind doesn’t really have to know

Because the yoke is easy

And the weight of light bends through time

The promise of Joseph was one from the Ox

Whose burden would have been mine

By James Welch

Where Justice Lives by Elisabeth Cooper

There’s a sound of rumbling 

The thunder of laughter

In the courts 

And all the chariots of justice ride 

On the rhythm 

The sound of the joy of government

Swirling around in the wine

Profound justice lives 

In waves and breakers

Of light and life

In bread and wine

In the redemption of time

In the mines of destiny 

Where the treasure 


Ancient wisdom

Where light 

Sounds it’s trumpet

And life prevails

By Elisabeth Cooper ©elisabethcooper2019

Pioneers by Elisabeth Cooper

Where are the pioneers

With golden strands of destiny

Laced between their lips

Calloused hands

Eyes that see beyond the brush of chaos

In the fire of His gaze they dwell

Becoming the blaze they behold

Fearless feet

Ears that hear beyond the clattering voices

Bellowing their cries of

Distraction, derailment, and deafening doubt

Unbending spines

Minds of steely oneness 

Synchronized with the thoughts of The King

Sword wielding wild spirits of the brave

Battle-tested hearts 

Proven in dark fiery silence

In the roads they built alone

Graced in steadfast resolution

Fiercely forged 

Unmoved in the face of accusation

In the face of misunderstanding

Formed in lonely and wondrous paths of ancient discovery

They stand

Hearts entangled into the rhythm of Him

Taking shape in the sound of many waters

Love stronger than death


The earth has yet to hear the roar

Of the fire branded warriors

The love driven revelators as they sound victory

Get Ready

With voices of silk and hammers 

With hands of skill and art

With hearts of prophecy and fire

They Come

By Elisabeth Cooper

©Elisabeth Cooper 2019

To You My Child by Elisabeth Cooper

To You, My Child

Your beautiful bones

the petals of you

unfolded on the day of your birth

And I am in love 

and I am terrified 

as they place you in my hands—a sacred trust—

because you come with a guarantee 

a guarantee

that you will push me

to the end of my self

to the end of what I am 

and I will fail you

It is a guarantee

and so I ask your forgiveness 

in advance 

I will teach you all I know 

and don’t know 

and I thank you for leading me to the place of 

my lack 

my weakness 

my need 

My child 

You revealed to me 

the throne of my heart 

and it was empty 

and you reminded me

to tear down 

the bloodthirsty idols of my ancestors 

and ask God to sit with me there 

and you reminded me 

to eat bread with him

and drink wine with him 

so that when you reached for me

I had something 

to give. 

By Amy Axby

©Amy Axby 2019

Veil vs. Sphere by Elisabeth Cooper

Rend not your garments

Remember you are clothed in righteousness 

Return to the Peace from the Prince

Recall your birthright of Sonship

The veil has been torn

And now I can grow up into new layers

Really they are horizontal spheres

I’ve cast off the layers that wrongfully clung

And embraced stretching through the new

I value the stillness

Gaze around the vast comforters that cover

Each wave a soda-pop of excitement

All these eternal saints casting and crowning

So many seas splashing below the rainbow

This atmosphere is here

“Points towards your heart ”

It it is HERE

Can you see the atmospheres of influence around you?

By James Welch

5 Year Old Poet Prophets by Elisabeth Cooper

We need to pay attention to children. We need to recognize emerging prophetic voices in the next generations; value their wisdom, whimsy, and depth.

Recently a friend and pastor, Darren Stott, shared with me these words that he began to write as his 5 year old Daughter, Sophia was talking. Sophia talks constantly (and she is brilliant and hilarious!), but he recognized this went beyond chattering. As I read her words, I immediately recognized the depth and the Spirit of Revelation resting on them. I asked Darren if I could post her “spoken word” on The New Poets of Immortality page because the poet prophets are rising. And some of them are 5 year olds.

Playground is the Earth
Playground for Heaven it’s all white 
It’s cutted in half
Those halves come together and they make a playground

Earth goes on the bottom

Heaven goes on the top
They are combined 

But God controls one.

Sin has control of the other


There is tape that sticks on to something until it gets moved. 

The tape is called The Standard. 

The Earth and Heaven get that special tape to stick together.

If they lose that special tape then they fall apart. 

Different countries have different heavens and different gods and they should choose the right one. 

It hurts, people don’t want to think, but it’s the mind that has to choose. 

Let the mind choose. 

Let’s pretend someone wanted to choose sin but they can’t, do you know why? 

Because of the standard. 

When somebody prays and says that they choose God, God hears them he puts a star on top of the heaven roof. 

By Sophia Stott

Awake by Elisabeth Cooper

Alert, to His leading. 

I’m typing to bring lightning 

to the landscape of my slightly sensitive 

heightened residence, 

inviting His precedence to arrive in presence… 

presenting open hands 

with words like pillows 

to rest Your ears, 

smoke stirred up through fragrant tears, 

I am here, 

like fear

…where it should only be placed. 

hungry, pursuing, 

trusting, in faith. 

Your presence comes 

like a warm, fragrant rain. 

Aromatically activating 

all that inhabits this space, 

enacting like grace 

- this is undeserved.


nor reserved, 

but honestly undone. 

Pausing to shun counterfeit sums; 

religious puns 

with hopes to latch on to speech propelled, 

but the leaking of this compelling 

is telling of projectiles that can’t be contained. 

Exhaling breaths from strained frames 

that have bent to proclaim 

through pains but remained, 


So, I remain… 

in face of the Purger, 

Who breathes upon my frame, 

inviting a merger… 

My Preserver, 

who brings life to me, 

and speaks right where I deplete, 

to rewrite what I delete 

and recites speech that only He can speak. 

He’s filling my exhaling, 

instilling with each infilling 

the voids I lift up 

like holes in my soul, 

that can no longer evade Him…

This is worship, 

of the King who is higher. 

So, I bring my desire, 

like sparks on kindling… 

I breathe, 

specifically to serve up a fire. 

He in I, 

rising up for my Sire, 

pulled from the mire, 

now planted on the rock, 

dug down from the place 

where He granted that I stop, 

serving my affliction. 

Circling, rehearsing what’s missing, 

in Him, it’s dismissed in 

the midst of forgiveness, 

bore in the sins He took 

and now I witness 

like a recalling of events 

carrying the weight of His imprint.

Humbled by the loss of what I deserve 

and the gaining of what I do not. 

Grace came fully for a sinner 

that was caught, 

unable to soar free, 

now I spring forth like seeds, 

in this journey that He leads 

in each moment of abiding, 

residing in this gliding of His winds, 

and yet brought within His wings. 

So, I sing a redeemed anthem 

that echoes His heart beat, 

like speech given to that hidden 

in plain sight, 

that more might awake, 

and take flight. 


Empathy by Elisabeth Cooper

He cried

as he told me the story

the story

of what had happened

But he would not look at me

not for all the ten pages,

not until

The End.

If he had looked

he would have

seen me crying


By Amy Axby

The Music of Stillness by Elisabeth Cooper

There is a philosophy of progress

Nothing grows in stillness

We must keep moving

Make things happen

Turn the cogs of the wheels of machines

Sweat and toil and churn

To that I say

Go stand in a forest

Let the purposeful stillness

Seep into your bones

Absorb the life in stillness

The progress of rest

For in the silence

There is music

In the stillness 

There is growth

The mighty trees are about their business

Without sweat

With effortless greatness

As they forge in the stillness

They sing

They live

They grow

They stand

Carpets of moss

Ferns with their swords

Wild hearted blossoms

They sing

They live

They grow

They stand

The forest and the wilderness know

The stillness of the mystics

Enfolded and captured

They rest unto greatness

In stillness running with rivers of music

In stillness wrought with growth and strength

In stillness bursting with banquets of beauty

-Elisabeth Cooper