Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Archive for February, 2015

A Little Girl

A little girl can sometimes sing,
Can flit about on angel’s wings,
Can dance with fairies, now unseen,
Can be so sweet, or contrary.

A little girl loves daddy’s whiskers,
She doesn’t mind that they are ticklish.
A little girl sits on his lap;
Head on his chest, she takes a nap.

A little girl has wondrous dreams,
On unicorns she’ll catch moonbeams.
She gathers starlight in her hands,
She dreams of being a princess grand.

A little girl in time grows up.
She gives up dolls and other stuff.
But every woman’s heart can tell —
Inside, the child is living still.

An Ache Inside

There’s an ache inside
Which we try to hide.
A great abyss
which can go amiss.

An empty hole
Inside your soul,
Where something cries
“Do not deny!”.

Where children’s eyes
Are full of wonder.
Where dreams and schemes
Are torn asunder.

In which we know
There’s something more.
A cavern, cave
In which we rave.

And if you want
That hole to fill
You must bow down,
You must be still.

Spring Emerging

Bird songs billowing from the hedges,
From meadows, grasses, trees and sedges.
Twitter, toot, and hoot, and tweet,
Their song and melody so sweet.

Flowers timid peep from ground;
Will the warmth still be around?
Frogs in creeks at night do croak,
Parents take walks with little folk.

The sun can warm us as we walk,
But clouds are good to cool us off.
Still a chill in morning air,
But new life battles all our cares.

Perfectionism

Well, you just can’t be good enough for some people,
Their standards are high’r than a steeple.
No matter what you do, your intentions are cruel,
At least that’s what they seem to think of you.

No matter how hard you try, they’re still gonna cry
That you’ve been unfair, that you really don’t care.
That you’re really a jerk, and your ways just don’t work.

Well, maybe they’re right; it seems to be my plight
To be misunderstood, no matter how good.
Yes, it must be my fault, looks like guiltless I’m not.

Okay, I’m not perfect; I just can’t live up to it.
Your standard, that is. I’m just not a whiz
At following your ways — I’m in a daze.

So it’s time to chill out; quit making a shout
About things that don’t matter; stop all the chatter.
Give it a rest; it’ll be for the best.

Slip of the Tongue

How could I do that awful thing,
With words to bite, with tongue to sting?
How could I cut off other’s words,
To thus imply, “You are absurd.”?

With ease I fall and don’t suspect
The words I say might have effect.
And sure myself have often known
The hurt of words from other’s tongue.

So, grant us, Lord, we do implore,
Our tongue to hold, our words to store.
And let instead encourg’ment come,
So we’ll have peace when day is done.

First Anniversary

Today is the 1st anniversary of what I call my “Kidney Stone Miracle”. Because of going to emergency for kidney stone pain, the doctors also discovered a cancerous tumor in the other (left) kidney. A month later, they removed it and I’m doing well today. Thank you, God, for another year of life!

The surgeon later told me that “You shouldn’t have had that much trouble passing that stone; it wasn’t that big.” But because of the pain, they found the cancer, so thank God.

Often our suffering can have a good result. We don’t always see the result, but in trusting God it can bear good fruit.

You can read the original story here:
https://clarakatalin.wordpress.com/2014/03/11/the-kidney-stone-miracle/

Movin’ On

The room’s still a mess,
The world’s in distress,
Bills haven’t been paid,
There’s no sun, just shade.

But I’m movin’ on, movin’ on.

Sometimes feel depressed,
And maybe too stressed,
Feel like I can’t get a grip,
And the news gives me fits.

But I’m movin’ on, movin’ on.

I’m finding new joy,
I don’t need a new toy.
I’m letting it slide,
Going to take a joy ride.

And I’m movin’ on, movin’ on.

Gotta choose to feel good;
Can’t always do what you “should”.
Make the best of this life,
Let go of the strife.

And I’m movin’ on, movin’ on.

Let others go argue
Tryin’ to prove that they’re right.
Prayin’ to accept it all —
Letting go’s the best fight.

Let’s get movin’ on, movin’ on.

Can’t let the world kill you,
Demands all around — still you
Do what you can, and just
Keep movin’ on, movin’ on.

California Fields

The California fields in driest dust did lie
While other realms with snow, and rain, and ice did vie.

The fields lay fallow, perhaps with needful rest.
It might, somehow, work out for all the best.

I’m not a farmer, nor a country lad,
But farmer’s plight doth somehow make me sad.

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