GLOSSAL TONGUES

August 23, 2002

Tongues of poets, like tongues of frogs,
Often go awry,
And get them into social bogs
A great deal more than meets the eye.
The frog looks up and sees a bug
And lashes out with slingshot tongue,
And sometimes finds he is too smug
To check the bugs who he’s among.

The frog begins to blink his eyes
As foreign bugs inflict their sting;
This frog is met with rank surprise
As now his ears begin to ring
Yes, poets tune their ear to words,
And sometimes write a potent verse;
But then, their dish becomes potsherds
Of glossal words unrehearsed!

So help me, Lord, to weigh my word
Upon the scales of other’s ears,
Realizing it may seem absurd
To those of more or lesser years;
To those you’ve dealt a different hand,
Who’ve never walked along my trail,
Lest those who’ve lived in different land
Find my poem of no avail.

WILD FLOWERS

May 19, 2002

Darling, I know the flowers where you now live
Have more scent and beauty than earth bound flowers give,
But still I think you’d like to share with me
The beauty I am privileged to see.

Remember purple flowers you wanted me to dig,
Growing in the ditch beside an old oil rig?
How we dug them up with care and brought them over here,
Never dreaming they would bloom year after year?

Last year we reset some around the water pump;
This year they are glorious, a sweet smelling clump;
With tall green stems, lacey leaves and purple flowers
That smell like Lilacs as they drink May showers.

Just another of the many things you left here behind
To remind me of you and soothe my troubled mind,
Things that help me often to while away the time,
And sometimes inspire me to write another rhyme.

I wish I could cut some and pass them up to you;
Perhaps more than some; maybe quite a few;
But since you are living where your city lies “Foursquare”
My bouquet will have to wait until I get there’

I feel that you are looking past my bowed down shoulder,
Thinking how to roll away this huge old boulder,
That seals your grave and cuts you off from me,
Waiting now to hear me shout, “Behold, I see!”

WORDS OF THE SPIRIT

May 17, 2002

Three times she visited night before last;
Three times as pleasant as dreams of the past.
My head on her lap, her eyes soft and gentle;
Not a word did she speak; our visit was mental.

I needed no words; her smile was sufficient;
Nor did she; she now is omniscient;
Nor is this so new, for all through our life
She discerned my thinking as a dutiful wife.

Just being together was all that we needed;
Our spirits commingled and somehow we heeded
What only our spirits were able to say,
Nor are we deprived of that blessing today.

Oh yes, I long for the touch of her hand,
Her every need to be my command,
A kiss every morning and often all day;
Life was so pleasant living that way.

But now that her body lies silent and still,
I know I must know that God's perfect will
Is to send her Spirit which I love so much,
Through which Oj and Dorothy still keep in touch.

A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING

The reason that so many tools are often never found
Is because we can’t remember just where we put them down;
Though our folks tried to train us when we were just a pup,
“The proper place is never down; always put things up”.

We always think we will recall just where we put the tool;
But when we simply cannot find it, we always feel we’ve played the fool.
We find ourselves much longer searching, and life steps up its pace
When there’s not a place for everything, and all things in their place.

So when we feel so self-important that we need not keep this law,
We’d best recall, for our own good, what was taught us by our Pa,
Then next time I need it, I won’t feel so terribly ill
Because by this, my own neglect, I can’t find my doggone drill!

LEAVE THEM WITH THE LORD

I met an aged friend at the store uptown today,
She said there were so many for whom we need to pray.
I asked her to name them, which wrinkled her cute brow,
And she confessed in shame, “I can’t remember now”.

How can we pray for friends, but can’t recall their name?
Would such a nameless prayer reach up to God the same
As prayer which mentioned one by one all persons on the list,
Meticulously seeing that not a soul was missed?

I knew that lady very well; no one her faith could doubt;
I’m sure as she brought friends to God, nobody was left out;
And having turned her heart to God, the angels could record
That this great soul had brought her friends and left them with the Lord.

So God knows each of them; He sees their every need;
He touches their infirmity, and they are truly freed;
So there was not a reason for her to feel ashamed,
For through her prayer obedience they were already named.

HEAL MY HATE, LORD

December 31, 2001

Sixty years with one sweet mate,
But now she's gone and won't return!
A silent, aching, burning hate,
Deep in my heart I now discern!

I'm grateful for the years she gave;
Her loving, laughing, lifting ways
So often rose to seek and save
A multitude from darker days.

I was first among that crowd
She magnetized toward joy and peace,
As something in me cried aloud,
"In Dorothy's love I've found release!"

What I hate is this long wait
From now until I too shall stand
Within that massive pearly gate
To grasp again her loving hand.

She always said, "If I go first,
I'll count it compliment to me
If another heals your thirst
For the love we two now see."

Could even God so bless me twice,
And reproduce a Dorothy Dear
To give me love and good advice,
As Dorothy did while she was here?

Someone said, "When God made you,
He threw away that Orion mold."
So I suppose, for Dorothy too
The same sad truth is bound to hold.

So God, I’m here on bended knee;
So weak, so tired and full of pain;
So please just keep on telling me
That my sad loss is Dorothy's gain.

And keep me open to the love
That by your word might come my way;
For all good gifts come from above
To heal my hate of this sad day.

THE NEW AMERICAN WORD

December 28, 2001

Of all the gifts that Santa has brought,
There is none that counts so much for naught,
As this one named by a brand new word:
Santa has brought me a case of the gird!

Christmas dainties all stacked on the table,
And here I am, eating more than I'm able,
Destructing that muscle, the stomach's small door,
As my stomach cries out, "I can't eat more!"

And sure enough the cookies back through it
As my taste buds say, "Eat more; you can do it!"
I listen to them, which is simply absurd,
And so, here I am with a case of the gird!

So acid comes back, along with the cookie,
Saying, "Boy, Oh Boy! I'll eat this rookie!"
My poor esophagus cries out in remorse,
As minute by minute I get more hoarse!

What kind of friends would bring all this stuff,
Which pampers my ego, but makes me feel tough!
I'll package this stuff, like a wise ol' bird,
Return it for New Years, and give them the gird!

CHEERS IN TEARS

It’s time again for Christmas Cheer,
But as we close two thousand one
I find upon my cheek a tear
Which surely weighs at least a ton.

For she who made of me a poet,
Dancing, singing, in my heart,
Though she’s with God, and I know it,
Physically we are apart!

Lonely nights like this are tough;
It seems that they will never end,
And even memories are rough,
Recalling lover, confidant, friend.

But - leaving me, she left a gift,
Framed in words so strong and kind;
Words that give a constant lift:
“Press on, Dear Oj, with strength and mind.”

So God, receive this Christmas Gift,
A gift You long have loaned to me,
This soul who always gave a lift,
Wherever need should chance to be.

You gave your Son; I give my wife,
Christmas gifts to heaven and earth,
Both leading to Eternal Life,
Through her death, and by His birth.

I’m sure the angels now rejoice
As Dorothy joins that heavenly throng,
And blends with theirs her alto voice,
Help Somebody” is her song.

May angels then sing loud and clear
That Jesus Christ, Our Lord, is born,
And grant me grace that I may hear
My Dorothy’s voice this Christmas morn.

ACCORDING TO GOD’S PROMISE

Holy Spirit, speak to me; give me truth and set me free;
Open wide my eyes to see who you want me now to be.
Across the years I’ve walked the walk, but ne’er so well as I could talk;
Forgive those times when I have balked; Please change my talk to godly walk.

True trial is here; no crowds to cheer;
No congregation filled with fear as they see deadly sin appear,
Or speak in faith their glad “Amens” as you forgive their many sins,
Transforming them from “outs” to “ins” as once again your Spirit wins.

That fellowship of godly folk, to whom your spirit often spoke,
Could well my sullen soul provoke to bear with power that “holy yoke”
Which sumoned me to sacrifice, to bear the pain, to pay the price,
To show His love and good advise to ill informed as well as wise.

But passing now that four score years, I seldom hear those holy cheers
Resounding in my failing ears or see glad faces through dim tears.
Less and less I’m called to preach; moving in is my outreach;
Still, at times, I get to teach, though haltingly and slow of speech.

My Helpmate too is growing old; before her duties, not so bold,
As she still tries to keep the fold as well and warm as of old.
So shall we join Old Jeremiah and be known as woeful “Crier”
Or shall we look a great deal higher, and listen to that Holy Lyre?

The harp that makes melodious strum of glorious things yet to come,
Of “House not made with hands” for some, who grasped by faith one holy crumb
Of that SWEET BREAD, the bread of life, which gives us ear in any strife
To be God’s two, both man and wife, as we prepare for THAT NEW LIFE!.

A life where “Old Things pass away”; precisely what God has to say,
“Where all our night is turned to day” while “God’s candle lights the way”;
A life “where old things turn to new” while angels sing along with you.
“Many called, but chosen - few!” By faith there’s room for us - YOU TOO!

A LEGAL NECKIN' PARTY!

July 1, 2001

Ain't had no outside neckin' party since wed to my sweet bride;
I'd frown on such a thing and am way too old beside;
But Doctor Shari grabbed hold my neck on Monday afternoon;
An' 'fore she's through I thought fer shore I was about to swoon!

She popped that thing a time or two when I was still face down,
And then she rolled me over and really went to town!
She grabbed a hold of my bald head and turned my neck to rubber,
Then cracked that worn-out atlas 'till I was 'bout to blubber!

Then stood me up and smilin' said, "You'll feel much better now!"
I reeled on out across the hall and wondered to myself, "Just how!"
But fact o' matter, I am much better, a mystery to me;
And I shore hope when I go back she's still got that recipe.