Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Posts tagged ‘rich’

I Live in a Dream

I LIVE IN A DREAM

I live in a dream …

I live in a little English village
Where everyone knows each other.

I go to the butcher shop
And meet Rev. Franklin Graham and Pope Francis.
At the tea shop,
I enjoy tea and tisane with Agatha Christie,
Hercule Poirot, and Miss Marple.
I also see J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis,
G. K. Chesterton, and Dorothy Sayers there.

I say hello to John Henry Newman,
Martin Luther, and St. Francis on the street.
———————

I take a trip to the United States…

I meet Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump –
Through a series of misfortunes,
They have lost most of their money
And have become very humble people;
They regularly meet for coffee at their local coffee house.

I go to a poor section of town.
The unemployed people are busy
Keeping their neighborhood clean,
Working in the community garden,
And going to school part of the day to better their lives.

I go to a rich neighborhood …
No one is home because they are in the poor neighborhood
Distributing clothing, helping in the community garden,
And teaching English to immigrants.

———————

This is my dream …

I no longer worry what you think of me;
I focus on Jesus and try to do His will.

I no longer try to prove I’m right and you’re wrong;
I respect your opinion and will state mine if you’re willing to listen.

I have peace in my heart
Because I have let go,
And given everything to God.

[Reconciling different elements in my life: Christians
with differing viewpoints, political factions, the rich
and the poor, and my own inner conflicts.]

The Rich Man

Are we rich in any way? It may not be material things ….

————————————————————

Invited in, I shyly stood,
Not knowing if I really should.
You see, I had so much to lose —
A fancy coat, expensive shoes,
My pride of life, my love of booze.

[The door too small to take it all … ]

Undecided, there I stood,
But I could see beyond that door
Some happy people, singing all.
But I would almost have to crawl
To get within that little hall.

I’d have to bend, might have to kneel.
My fear, my pride, I sure could feel.
I turned around, dejected still.

I wandered long; I wandered far,
But in my mind could see the door
Still beckoning, still off’ring hope.

While wandering, I lost the shoes,
The fancy coat, my taste for booze.
Somehow they didn’t seem to give
My soul its very-needed lift.

[My feet were calloused; my soul was bruised …]

I lost my pride; where did it go?
The things I’d thought; they were not so.
Inside-out, it seemed my life;
Continuing, but filled with strife.

Then humbly came I to the door.
I knelt; I crawled, into the hall.
With tears of joy I was received,
And my own tears, my fear, relieved.

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