My Poetry

A Journey

I'd rather be on a boat that sails

On a windswept ocean with sailors' tales.

Or a place that is cool like the dawn of the sun

Where the world reborn awakes as one.

In jungles in deserts on mountains on wings

I wish I could do just one of these things.

My life as it sits is really quite glum

I wake up still tired and retire quite numb.

My waist is still growing as my pocketbook shrinks

Good news, the market has a sale on cold drinks!

I think I'll go get one and then I'll feel well.

Oh yes, the cream soda! I'll buy all they will sell.

And then I'll come home, and feeling rather amused,

I'll reread the books I've already perused.

Oh this will be grand, I can tell it is so!

Now to the market I quickly will go.

I'm home from the market, and uncertain what to feel.

A con man with a cane robbed my bubbly white meal.

While at the market in my dear isle three,

An old man nearby started talking with me.

He noticed my unkempt and frazzled delight

At the soda full stocked that would last me all night.

"Why so much soda?" He asked with a beam.

A sneaky approach to his devilish scheme.

I said, "it's for me, and I like it a bunch!"

He smirked and shot back, "I had a bit of a hunch."

In that moment my waistband, it grew like a weed!

The outlandish pronouncement of my size he'd decreed!

"HOW DARE YOU?!?" I REBUFFED,

My hair was all bristly and my cheeks were all puffed.

I was angry, it was sure, and about to attack

But he sat there so still and he softly looked back.

"Why are you here on this Earth?" he replied,

Looking gentle and calm with his cane by his side.

Now completely unbalanced I looked at him baffled,

My answer lay dead on the hangman's thought scaffold.

"Why am I here?" I thought to myself

Wishing I knew, and that I were an elf.

For the elves are so wise.. let's lay that thought to rest.

The Lord of the Rings is undoubted the best.

Now back to the story, I knew not the rebut

So I stood there considering the size of MY butt.

And how he STOOD THERE IN PUBLIC

HE REPROVED MY LARGE SIZE

I wanted nothing so much as a shot at his eyes.

But he saw this in me and with a polite little nod

Pushed away his little cart and didn't think it was odd.

And I stood there and watched him walk away with such grace

I hope no one saw the shame on my face.

The soda replaced, I shuffled out of the store.

No joy in my heart, I was struck to the core.

Looking back at this memory through the lens of much time

I see this day like a blessing, and not like a crime.

For this was the day that I saw there was more

Than the next thrilling novel, and the cheap soda store.

But not just more world that I had not yet known.

My novels had pictures, and the wonders they'd shown.

But I somehow had never believed I could do

All the things that I read in the books with the crew.

With the question of why I was here, my life changed.

I realized my thoughts were often deranged.

I CAN go to Paris and I CAN sail a ship.

So I made some life changes and started planning my trip.

I quit buying soda, and the novels went too

All the money was saved and the fund slowly grew.

Still it wasn't enough, so I found some more work

It payed really poorly, there wasn't much of a perk.

But my fund slowly grew and I was feeling alive

Instead of at ten, I woke up at five!

And I went to bed early for I wanted good sleep

And about my small trials I seldom did weep.

I sold my TV and I bought a new bike,

Turns out exercise is actually something I like!

A while later I made a friend who kindly asked me

If I'd like to come with him, and serve kids in Haiti.

That trip changed my life, and I learned how to give

I decided that's how I wanted to live.

Many trips later, I write from a boat

On the windswept ocean near an island remote.

I ponder the man and his question long ago

"Why are you here on this Earth?" Do I know?

And I think that I finally do understand -

This life came out more than I ever had planned.

I've seen countries and peoples and helped them along.

I danced with the children and they taught me their song.

In the jungles I helped give birth to a child

It made the jungles look tame - that night was wild.

I've loved and been loved and my heart feels so bright.

I found God somewhere in there, and He gave me His light.

Tonight I believe that the answer is clear

I know my purpose - I know why I'm here.

I'm here to love, and to give and to be.

Thanks God, I know now how much You love me.

I love You too.

Love Remains

I stand apart. 

Pondering my soul, 

Considering the pieces, 

And examining them. 

I begin removing 

All the things 

Unlike my God, 

And I listen. 

A voice speaks 

In quiet opposition; 

At first subtle 

And then fierce. 

It tells me 

I am nothing, 

And the Devil 

Sits and laughs. 

Walking with God 

I am unafraid; 

And so I 

Look to Him. 

God smiles softly 

Unafraid of Lucifer. 

He guides me, 

Teaching of love. 

We prune me; 

It hurts deeply. 

I trust Him.

Only love remains

Anyway

                                                                           What does it mean 

                                                                           To hurt for a friend?

                                                                           Can I actually...

                                                                           Feel their pain?

                                                                           And what of the..

                                                                           moments.

                                                                           Where I'm the one

                                                                           Who hurts.

                                                                           Is my pain felt?

                                                                           Do others know what..

                                                                           It's like?

                                                                           Loneliness moves

                                                                           Like a river.

                                                                           Churning, gushing..

                                                                           Pulling.

                                                                           Blackness lies beneath.

                                                                           And I'm told

                                                                           That there is light.

                                                                           Above me.

                                                                           A hand reaching..

                                                                           For mine.

                                                                           Do I have the strength..

                                                                           To..

                                                                           Reach back?

                                                                           I am so thankful

                                                                           For the moments

                                                                           Where I didn't..

                                                                           Reach.

                                                                           And my friends

                                                                           Pulled me up

                                                                           Anyway.

Come, Follow Me
Where is the fire inside of me?
It used to be, it used to be..
Where is the purpose, and how did it flee?
It used to be, it used to be...
How have I fallen, and why can't I see?
It used to be, it used to be.

Now I am lonely, afraid and put down.
My friends and my family will not see me drown.
For drowning is silent, and still as the song
Of a heart no longer beating.

Oh God, where are you now that I'm here on the edge?
The edge of my sanity, the edge of my hope.
I'm tired, Dear Lord, and have no more strength.
No balm for my soul, and no way to cope.
There is pain beyond that which You can understand;
I've come so far, and fallen so deep.
Please let me go now, I'll burden no more.
Please, Father, let me sleep.

Dear child, sleep well, and dream while you sleep;
Think no longer of dwelling in chains.
For I am your God, and your soul I will keep.
My grace is sufficient to heal all your pains.
Worry not, you can become whole.
I know that your strength is gone, so use Mine,
It's free, so ask, let that be your goal.
Oh child, hold on, this is by design.

Many a heart will no longer beat,
For they drowned to the words of that song.
Hold on, we can do this, there will be a way.
And you will yet live to be strong.

I am your Lord, please do not flee,
Come follow Me, come follow Me.
I am your comfort, your guide I will be,
Come follow Me, come follow Me.
Please, heed my words, you still can be free.

Come follow Me, come follow Me.



Where Eternity Touches the Sky

I felt like I could see you

If I stood on top of the world

And the vastness of our separation

Would be smaller as I beheld the nation

So I found a grand staircase in a little old town

In the back of the shop where they made the king's crown

'Hind a dusty old picture as large as a man

Was a creaky old door.

No lock on the door, past the stubborn brown hinge

So I opened it slowly, and softly went in.

The staircase extended to the top of the world

Round and again it gently unfurled.

A day or two later I came out on top

All was gentle, all was still, and I came to a stop.

And I looked and beheld that the world is so large,

Our distance then became small.

So I called to you then and somehow you heard,

And you went to the staircase in the small little town

In the back of the shop where they made the king's crown.

And you found the old picture as large as a man

Where the door is with the hinges a little off tan.

I met you there, and for a day or two we

Climbed the stairs so on top of the clouds we could be.

Soon we came out on top, and the stillness still was

In the place where before I had taken a pause.

And we sat in the moment so peaceful and still

With a cup of serenity we wished not to spill.

Soon spill it we did, but no crying did we,

As we danced to the soft song of life in our glee.

We danced and we sang and the songs were so sweet

Our harmonies glistened as we flowed with our feet.

Time stops for a moment to observe you and I

Radiant and young, unbelievably free.

On the top of the world God created.

In the place where the world and eternity meet

There is none so thankful as I.

For I called, and you came, and forever we'll be

Where eternity touches the sky.

A Beautiful Friend

Sometimes I think of the roses who play in the cool summer breeze on a hot summer day

And I ponder the lilies in their sea of azure glass

And smile at the little birds as to and fro they quickly pass.

Oh how lovely and sweet is the cool meadow's sway in the spring afternoon 'neath the sun's golden ray

All is still, and I feel the grace of God's love

For all he created, you and I, and the dove.

And the trees and the springs in the calm afternoon

And the stars in the night, and the bright silver moon.

He gave me a friend who can see these things well, who speaks with the power of God - you can tell.

It radiates off her as the light of the son, it's peaceful, and steady, and wise, though still young.

She's lovely as the rose, and dances in the rain

To the music of life, for to her it is plain.

Driver Of The Nails
Did he understand what he had done?
When to the cross, he nailed the Holy One?
Do you think that he looked at the Savior's eyes?
While in silence, our Lord looked up at the skies?
Did he see the pain?
Did he feel the trembling of our Lord's hands?
I think he did.
When the whole Earth shook, and the storms raged on.
As our Father looked down on his crucified Son.
The driver of the nails wept.
From before the pounding of nail one, he wondered if this was the Chosen Son.
Before the pounding of nail two, he certainly knew.
Never before had any other man taken it so silently.
With such meekness, and humility as the man from Bethlehem.
With the stroke of the third nail, his entire being shook.
And so it went, for nails four. Five. SIX.
And then it was over.
I like to think that when our Savior died, he looked the nail driver right in the eyes.
And with a look of compassion like no other one, spoke He this line.
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
And now I say to the nailer,
Those words were for you.
They were for me.
They were for everyone.
For we helped you hammer the nails.
We at Gethsemane,
You at Golgotha.
So to the people who have read this poem,
Remember.
Remember what I said.
Each time you sin, you drive another nail.
It's a paradox, really.
You can lessen pain back in time by changing one decision.
So remember.
Remember.

Freedom

“In memory of our God, our religion, our freedom.”

Said one, who lived and died battling Devil's spawn.

“Our Peace, our wives, our children.”

Continued he, and fastened such a banner for all to see

On the end of a pole, and all over town

That the people of God would resist evil's crown.

Then privately knelt in agony, did he

And plead to the Father to stop tyranny.

“Oh Lord, I know I'm just one man

But help me to do all that I can

To end this war, to keep the peace

That all the evil deeds will cease.

Let justice reign, and mercy show

And happiness may the people know.

Give me the strength to do Thy will,

And I will do it, though blood I spill.

To keep the peace, and in Thy name,

I pray for the lives which I will claim

In battle, for tomorrow we go

To fight for liberty, and kill the foe.”

This was the prayer of that great man

Before the battle ever began.

That he may keep the spirit near

In the darkest hour, when fell a tear.

Some stand for freedom too today

With guns and planes, for them I pray.

That their lives may be spared and their families kept well

As they march on to battle Hell.

And I salute them as they march grim

Into that battle and sing their hymn.

“Oh God we remember all Thou hast done

And thank You for the Redeemer, Thy son.

Please bless our homes and bless our wives

And give them comfort about our lives

That we are safe and all is well.

That they may know, and fears may quell.

Please give us strength this blessed day

And keep us safe, that we may stay

To do Thy work, and maintain peace

That all the wicked things will cease.

Our shepherd Thou art, and we believe

That one day peace we will achieve.”

So closes their hymn, as they march on

Into battle against Hell at the break of dawn.

So goes the battle for all within,

Though not for freedom of home and kin.

But rather with principles, for light and for truth

That we may know best how to raise all the youth.

And also that we may feel freedom inside

Though with cords and chains we may be tied.

Oh Lord hear the prayer of the common man

Who listens to and follows Thy plan.

Help me to keep my freedom true

That I may be able to best serve You.

And help me to spread peace to all who will

That they may find freedom within themselves still.

As they are chained and when all hope is gone

That they may look up, and pray to the One.

And thank Him for giving them freedom from sin

And hope to one day His kingdom enter in.

Amen.

Nice Guys
Nice guys finish last.
Why is this saying so true?
It seems that when I'm nicest,
The girls all follow you.
You're a jerk and they know it,
You never open the door.
And when your girl starts to fall,
You watch her hit the floor.
You laugh at all her problems,
And make her feel like dirt.
This really is a problem.
You really are a jerk.
But maybe the problem isn't you,
Maybe the problem is me.
It was not you who made me like her,
That was me, you see.
So maybe I'm the one who needs to change,
The one who's got it wrong.
Or maybe I should forget girls,
That might not last real long...


An Epic For Those Fallen in WWII

All around, the bullets flashed.

The mortars exploded.

The battle raged on.

Comrades fallen.

Soldiers lay defeated.

Cries of the wounded all around.

The enemy, the terrible enemy waited.

Waited only for more.

In the rain, the cold, relentless rain

Our hero sat unsure.

Unsure of what will come tomorrow.

Unsure if he is strong enough.

To live another day.

Mourning for his fallen brothers.

Worrying about his family at home.

Feeling the pain of hidden wounds.

In despair and fear, the heroes' lines fell back.

As the enemy advanced.

The terrible, relentless enemy.

Jerrys, they were called.

This terrible enemy.

Some were bad men,

Our hero knew this.

But those Jerrys were men too.

Like any GI that he ever knew.

Why must this war, this damned war

Take the lives of Heinz and Tommy alike.

Both with wives and children at home.

These thoughts, our hero knew

Would not get him home.

Would not end this war.

A last effort.

A last push to break the enemy.

Was forming among the lines.

Retrieving his rifle,

Our hero prepared.

To lead men.

To kill other men.

All for the sake of survival.

The charge commenced.

Leading his small squad on to victory,

Our hero did his job well.

Almost to the top.

The top of the treacherous hill.

Where the objective stood.

A row of foxholes overtaken.

Another yet to come.

A break.

A small rest.

Our hero told his comrades to take.

In the captured foxhole.

Time slowed, it seemed,

As a grenade flew in, among his troops.

No time to think.

Only to act.

Our hero dove upon the grenade.

And waited.

For certain death.

And silently reflected.

-

In neat regalia

Hair combed,

Shoes shined.

Our hero stood.

Weeping, as he said farewell.

To kith and kin.

For the very last time.

My Feelings About Public School

I need to get my classes done, oh I am in a pickle.

I must explain it here and now, for it is ever baleful.

My parents, they have threatened, to send me back to school,

If I don't get my classes done for that's the terror of their rule.

Public school is a place of misery, and depression, it is true.

The kids go in and come out robots, Mom do you want that for ME too?

I really hate that public school, I'll try to finish strong,

But if you send me back to school, you will be in the wrong.

I love you Mom, I love you Dad, but don't think me a fool.

For I am just your teenage son, and think that I'm so cool.

I guess that sums up this short poem,

but there's one little point that I want to drive home.

I will not go back to public school, I'll die before I do,

And I know that if I die, you will be oh so blue.

So save us both some terrible pain and lots of awful grief,

Don't send me back to public school, to both of our relief.

Wrestling

That moment that takes my breath away.

That moment the ref raises my hands.

That moment I hear my coaches say,

“Way to be” all melancholy fleas away.

That moment when unknown people say,

“Did you see that? That kid's a stud.”

That moment I privately go away

And give thanks to my God with clasped hands.


Andrew Jackson
Jackson the brave,

Jackson the bold.

Jackson has many stories untold.

Jackson, an orphan born on the frontier,

Became a great president, '29 was the year.

“Old Hickory” is right!

The name suits him well.

He was a fighter! That, you can tell.

“Didn't shoot Henry Clay, didn't hang Mr. Calhoun.”

He only regrets blood not spilt from 2 goons.

Jackson died a sad death, at home a lone soul.

God bless Mr. Jackson laid in a deep hole.

Hillbilly Haiku
Peopl says im dum
Wull I dun rote this haicku
Take that yu haters

The Poem of the Unknown Prophet

I am the man who spoke the truth

In that place, that moment, that day. 

And I am the man whose words changed your mind

When your feed had ran the wrong way.

My speech is not perfect, It's simple and slow,

And sometimes in my words I..

Stumble.

It's.. Hard. To speak   for me.

So I study and I try - I work really hard.

I want to have speech with mejor

My thoughts are so clear and my heart knows the words.

Sometimes they just don't quite... 

Get out the door?

It's hard.. For me.. to speak.

But that doesn't matter and I'll tell you why. 

My message is not of this world. 

I speak of the Savior - on His wings I fly

The scroll of His scripture I've daily unfurled. 

I comfort the lonely, the sick I do heal

In His name, by His power, I KNOW He is real.

For me.. It's hard... To speak.

But when I speak, God guides my words.

I do not.. Remember.. What I said.

In that day, that moment, that place.

But I spoke what He told me as best as I could,

And I... I am thankful.. for His Grace.