Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category

Old Lady’s Blues

Well, the air’s too wet,
I’m covered in sweat.
The chiggers are ‘bitin;
Soon there’ll be lightnin’.

But I’ve got food to eat,
A roof over my head,
Even have A/C,
And people who love me.

Well, the news is bad;
It’s makin’ me sad.
My back is in pain;
Might be goin’ insane.

But I’ve got good friends, 
A garden to tend,
Cats who like to cuddle,
Rain enough for some puddles. 

Well, I spilled the dinner,
Don’t seem to be a winner.
The grandbaby’s cryin’;
Life can be tryin’.

But there’s always a light;
Your smile is so bright.
We may not agree,
But you’re talkin’ with me!

Just heard the doctor’s verdict,
Says my blood pressure’s imperfect 
Not to mention blood sugar,
Extra carbs in the cooker.

But I’ve got Jesus beside me;
There’s nothing can fright me.
Well, maybe things will, 
But He’ll help me, until …

I can see through the night,
And hear music bright,
Be calm in the storm,
‘Til He brings me home.

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Dishwashing Blues

[Another silly poem, and “first world” problem?  Well, we need to laugh sometimes! Life can get a bit heavy. Blessings.]

Oh, I hate to wash dishes
But mama said I must.
But I hate to wash dishes;
I’d rather eat dust.

Oh, the dishwasher’s broken
Oh, what can I do?
There’s a pile a foot high
On the counter; it’s true.

Just put on some music
And sing my way through.
Dance to some verses
And tap to the tune.

Each verse that is sung,
The dishrag is wrung.
The clean pile gets higher
‘Til all of them done!

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Comparison

It’s a mistake
To compare ourselves to others.
That sin do not dare —
For joy it surely smothers.

Don’t look askance
At gifts you have been given.
Grow gratitude —
Let yourself be shriven.

Joy everywhere —
Our happiness, so be it.
God is alive,
If we will but see it.

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Autumn Waning

Gone are the bright leaves of the fall,
And barren branches stand so tall,
The wind cuts through my meager clothes;
A bit of chill upon my nose.

The sky so dreary, and people weary,
But pink-tinged clouds at sunset shout
Of beauty gracing —
Silver-lined clouds lacing.

And still the air is not so cold.
But wintry temper’tures so bold
Will soon bring flurries and people hurrying
To still the chill within their souls.

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Five Vignettes

These were written as an assignment for a poetry class. Assignment: Write a few short poems in the same “form.” You can pick an object, and write about what the object thinks of itself. (Regarding form, I’m not sure what “form” these are, or even if they’re in the same “form.”) The second vignette is not really about an object.

THE CLOCK
I am the clock
That sits and ticks
And gives you fits
When buzzing, ringing,
The new day bringing.

THE POETRY TEACHER
He said to write a poem.
I thought I’d like to show ‘im.
It’s just my pride
That makes me want to hide.

THE CAT
As I sit on the sill
It’s really a thrill
To watch the birds —
Or is it absurd?

THE CHAIR
Four legs I have, and on a plateau
Sit some of the people whom I know —
Or don’t —
But perhaps it’s kind
To let a person sit a while.

THE TREE
I stand so still
Except in wind;
The birds make me their home.
And rabbits dwell
‘Neath branches low
My arms protect them well.


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A Gentle Rain

A gentle rain was the touch of God —
Healing — bringing healing.

My weary soul, so dry and parched,
Received the living water.

I cannot comprehend Your love, O Lord —
For me, for others.

How can a sound touch my heart so deeply,
Washing cares away?

And to the earth it brings the promise,
That evil will be cleansed by Your love.

And by Your suffering so deeply,
You washed my sins away.

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It’s Only a Shack

Rain on the roof,
Clothes on my back;
It’s dry inside,
Though it’s only a shack.

Wind’s blowin’ hard,
But I do not fear —
Six layers of clothes
Do bring me good cheer.

The demons attack —
They make my thoughts jumble.
But through prayer and fasting,
The enemy crumbles.

Be not afraid;
You have what you need.
To God and His promises
We all must take heed.

God grants the rain,
The stars, sun, and moon.
Give thanks and give praise,
For He’s coming soon.

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Refugee

She wandered for years
In war-torn lands.
Why she didn’t go home,
I don’t understand.

Sometimes begging,
Sometimes stealing.
You’ve got to survive —
Starvation not appealing.

Oh, where can I go, Lord?
Will I ever find a home?
It’s only in Your arms, Lord,
That I won’t feel forlorn.

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What Comfort

What comfort I receive
When gentle raindrops fall
Upon my roof — and I
Am dry beneath it all.

What comfort I now feel
When warm inside my bed,
Like mom who wrapped me in her arms,
And always kept me fed.

What grief I sense for those
Who under freeways sleep
Who struggle every day to find
Security to keep.

My heart is broken now
For families torn apart.
For strife and anger uncontained,
The wounds of broken hearts.

O, gentle raindrops, tell
Those suffering now from want,
That there’s a God Who loves them still;
He loves your broken heart.

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Travelling on a Misty Morning

A misty morning in southwest Ohio —
The moisture hugs the ground,
Oozing out from the damp earth.

We pass an alpaca ranch, and horse stables.
There’s an old, high, stone wall
Surrounding a mansion, making a fortress.

It’s cool now, but the fog will burn off,
And a rainless day
Will keep the farmers busy.

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