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most times, i wander past troubled winds of shore
when dark sighs heave upon a hazed door,
the crux of crosses seems to welcome me
listening to whines of own stories seeking plea,
and the wings of gray clouds immerse in cries
pausing, i carry gratitude with grace still in my eyes,
when moments are lid covered, like mourning shawl
my senses stoop ever weary as they begin to fall,
then I hear a chuckling of street kids spilling the day
as if hours are given by a Maker to strum and gaily play,
by then; I hold His LIGHT, a sliver of it begins to bloom
erasing crumbs of doubt in shades of twisted gloom.
once, thrice by the armchair are letters spread around
mostly payables , some due end of month’s mound
neck shrinks till coffee brews, like soft smoke in heat
thanking the Father for a home that sings in mellow beat
with smiles easing burdens that seem heavy weight
for heart’s growling hides many things like love, hope, and fate,
my eyes, my skin become plump again, and dear life wanders by
prayers whisper 'all is right', a joyful world wraps a mellow sigh,
looking up at the night’s ray, simple pleasures cannot be bought
I bow for His mercy and let go, to rest on His Light ever sought.
all rights reserved
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Robert Ball's Honoring the Father Contest
by: nette onclaud
Thea, grandfather Alferd's dog died, she was so old and sick
Now is Thea on the moon, says Adrian who is six
Michael Jackson died so unexpectedly and abruptly
He is on the moon and plays with Thea, says Adrian who is a big fan
Betzy, grandfather Arild's dog died, she was also old and sick
Now Betzy is also on the moon with Thea and Michael Jackson and play all day
Great Grandmother died so unexpectedly and abruptly
Adrian who is six had difficulty understanding
Adrian who is six cried many tears for Great Grandmother
but comforted himself with the fact that she is sitting on the moon and
makes waffles to Thea, Michael Jackson and Betzy.
A-L Andresen :) - A true story -
Impressionable young hearts do tell the grandest lies
When learned from grandfathers with sparkling eyes
Grandfathers living renewed through the breath of a grandchild
Oh grandfathers’ whoppers told in all kindness and glory
The bigger the whopper makes the child’s lies the cute little story
Thus the grandchild’s faith breeching walls of reasonable reality
Simply because beloved grandfather had told the story
My grandfather said it was so- tiny voice of pledged belief
And I believe him -for grandfather would never lie to me
So sleep little one- dream the telling’s of funny grandfathers beloved
For their little lies to you are meant to not make you a worried
But make you believe in the impossibilities of grandeur and extravagance
There is a Santa Clause
The fish really was so big it couldn’t fit in the boat
I wrestled a grizzly when I was just about your age
For in the telling of such blessed little lies
A remembrance of grandfather will never die
The wisdom and laughter thus remembered in each time’s telling
Will warm you over and over- as little lies do you begin the telling
Millicent Portia Ponsonby-Smyth
Could speak fluent French by the time she was five.
By the age of just eight she was top of her class,
There wasn’t a test that she couldn’t pass.
English and maths she coped with just fine
And quantum mechanics she’d mastered by nine.
Her parents were proud, but a little concerned
That she’d never have fun if she stayed in to learn.
Her father said, “Millicent go out and play.”
“But father I’m reading so here I shall stay.”
“Being so clever is great there’s no doubt,
But once in a while you need to get out.”
She said, ”Pater, please listen I’m happy to study,
And if I go out there’s a chance I’ll get muddy.”
That very night she was taken off guard,
She discovered a sum that was simply too hard.
She stomped round her room in utter frustration,
She just couldn’t do this quadratic equation.
Gnashing her teeth and tearing her hair
She kicked out in temper at her teddy bear.
It flew through the air and bounced off the wall,
So she kicked it again before it could fall.
It bounced off her head and then off her knee
And suddenly Millicent giggled with glee.
She continued all night to kick it around.
For hours she kept it from touching the ground.
In the following weeks she practiced some more
And saved all the money she earnt from her chores.
She went to the shop, bought a ball and some boots,
And learnt how to dribble and learnt how to shoot.
Every day after school she went to the park
And practiced her football until it was dark.
She continued to study the books and the sport
And paid close attention to all she was taught.
13 years later Miss Smyth is delighted
She’s the first girl in history to play for United.
Please learn to listen, it took me years
to calm my mind and open my ears.
Make time for reflection, gaze often and deep,
the truth is elusive but the journey is sweet.
Focus your love inward, raise up your heart
The love of yourself is where you must start.
Put your roots in the ground, just like a tree,
Grow up to be strong, independent and free.
Redeem all this strength, become selfless and please
learn to be humble and to stand on your knees.
In patience and virtue, you’ll find what you need,
the joy is in giving, the best way to receive.
Into this life, a great purpose will build
and open the path to a life that is fulfilled.
With spiritual joy, there’s no limit or price,
It comes with the love of a father’s advice.
On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute
For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes
A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken
So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife
On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys
For the living, life goes on
Tomorrow is another day
Dad never knew his father. That soldier died in a war.
All Dad heard was brief stories of the man that went before.
Grandma had some pictures and some medals on a wall.
But Dad never knew his father which was what mattered most of all
I’ve done some family history, and seen the ship’s manifest.
I’ve heard again the story of the good ship Lafayette--
How Grandma and her children searched the waves for periscopes,
Knowing that one torpedo could blow away all of their hopes.
This could have been in any war. Soldiers die and families flee.
But this was the family story that was handed down to me.
It started in old England, then to an immigration line:
A 3-year-old at Ellis Island, in July 1939.
They fled their burning country, to be called “war refugees”.
With help from an old uncle and a kind community,
Grandma made a new start here in the land of liberty.
They learned that Grandpa was killed in ‘44 in Italy.
I found online the letter, that my Grandma didn’t see,
About how the Sergeant-Major’s infantry company
Was caught out in the open by Wehrmacht artillery.
The letter said he didn’t suffer. Was he really killed instantly?
I never knew my Grandpa, though I was named after him.
Though I served a different flag, I was a soldier like him.
I’ve seen my father’s scrapbook, and Grandpa’s medals on the wall.
But I never knew my Grandpa which was what mattered most of all.
As I looked upon my Daughter Michaela it was clear to see
Two big beautiful blue eyes were looking back at me
When I got home from Prison and she was 5 days old
Speaking of holding the warm after absorbing the cold
The happiness of childhood was looking up to see
A little bundle of love that was looking inside of me
She would lie upon my chest and then she would fall out
I think safety in her daddy’s arms is what that was all about
She had a beautiful smile as well as a beautiful glow
As I looked at every tiny finger and every little toe
Then when she opened up her eyes everybody knew
“Just take a look at those blue eyes she looks just like you”
No ones knows where life may lead but I know in my heart
Made my end then started again so this baby would have a start
From the darkest night to the brightest light I can help her Soul
Perhaps in the overall scheme of things that always was my goal
I don’t think things are ever quite that easy, only thing I know
When it comes to beautiful babies, my little girl steals the show
Written for the Beautiful Babies Contest.
The tragedy of a Miracle started today
Our Lord’s brutalized body passed away
Of all the tragedies in the history of man
This is one I try to grasp, but never can
For some reason I find it impossible to see
We crucified the greatest man in our history
Through all of the gain and all of the loss
It was a predestined coin man had to toss
I wonder how Pilot must have felt that day
He washed cowards hands in a cowardly way
Beaten and tortured, his skin ripped to shreds
As a thorny crown dug holes into Jesus’ head
While nailed to the cross he had one final goal
Through the mercy of love he saved another soul
He saved that soul and then our Lord Jesus died
Can you imagine the countless tears that were cried?
As we all know Jesus' body was placed into a tomb
To my minds eye it was no less than a spiritual womb
And from inside that womb salvation was born
For the tomb was found empty come Sunday morn
This is not how the story ends it is only how it starts
The Lord now lives up inside each one of our hearts
Even those lost in Prison, the ones like I used to be
Can turn to the Lord and then they will be set free
Freedom is a thing that I think we all strive to find
It is etched in our heart and engraved in our mind
I was locked up in a cell nestled tightly away
Facing several years that I would have to pay
Up inside of that cell I made my own decree
A true miracle was taking place inside of me
I was a very evil man and I was so proud to show it
In the wink of an eye I was transformed into a Poet
I learned there is only one way to truly be free
Ask of the Lord, “ Jesus please come unto me”
And just as the Lord Jesus Christ rose up out of his tomb
We can all live with-in the comfort of his spiritual womb
A woman shattered the night, with her agonizing scream
Sacrificing her might has dawned realization of a dream.
She has given me a wonderful heir, to bear my name
And left her sweet memories, for the spirits not wane.