I knew Billie and Bobbi and boy, were they fun,
At the end of the day when my work was all done,
And Miss Sally Sue Treet was a challenge to beat,
For the bakery that closed at the end of the street.
There was Pamela Jo with her joyful embrace,
And Miss Candy La Beau with her lip-sticky face,
There was Millie and Minnie and little Miss Mutt,
And the burgers we ate at the Chicken-Kiss Hut.
Now all of these moments, both loud and obscure,
Are the days of my life at the speed of a blur,
But in spite of them all and the fun they portray,
I would rather write poems with Emilia J.
For what is the world but a window to life,
And a garden of fruit to a husband and wife,
If you capture these truths in a far-reaching way,
Then you may win a bust of Emilia J.
Now Emilia J. is the master of poems,
And her works should be read in the finest of homes,
If you want to be read in a scholarly way,
You should write for the praise of Emilia J.
Now her works can be read in a comfortable bed,
With a husband named Bill or a woman named Fred,
If you want to be touched in a wonderful way,
Then you must read the poems of Emilia J.
It was dusty, dry and endless
Stretched beneath an empty sky
From horizon to horizon
Where the turkey buzzards fly,
Like a landscape meant to warn you
Just how far a man can fall.
Except for Ruby in El Paso,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Took a powder in Fort Stockton.
Crossed the Pecos makin’ time.
San Antone gave way to Austin
On the Travis County line.
Shot a rattlesnake in Waco
With my back against the wall.
Except for Bobbi-Jo in Beaumont,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
I’ve seen Lubbock and Laredo,
Seen Odessa/Midland, too.
Met a sweet young thing in Brownsville,
Just another déjà vu.
Didn’t tell her I was leaving,
But I promised her I’d call.
Except for Emmylou in Houston,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Learned to do the Stockdale two-step
In the local Lone Star style.
Danced a Galveston fandango
With a Corpus Christi smile.
Set a sucker up in Dallas,
But my partner dropped the ball.
Except for Jill in Amarillo,
Hell, it weren’t worth Texas at all.
Billy rode the cowboy beat
In fairs and rodeos
Bobbi barbecued the meat
They served at all the shows
She dreamed of matrimony
And a wedding dress with bows
In a sacred ceremony
With a man in cowboy clothes
He met her by a dairy near
A chapel on a hill
Where lonely people go to hear
The saddest Whip-poor-will
She spoke of her uncertainty
And yet the moon rose still
To help her see eternity
Behind the words, "I will"
They gathered with a happy glow
Beside the old church bell
And Bobbi won the bridal show
As far as I can tell
Their marriage is a thing of pride
Like cowboy boots worn well
The ups and downs are like the ride
Upon a carousel.
It feels so strange how my heart beats a little faster when your near
It feels like I can't breathe when I'm around you.
I love you with everything that I am.
I am glad I have you.
You don't know how much you really mean to me
I'm happy when you're around me
You help me in ways that I can't explain.
Bobbi Jo Bodle
June 14th 2018
Walking alone along this lone depressed road called life in this big lonely world
Wishing I had you by my side walking with me thru it all
I don’t know how I get by each day without you here by my side
I miss you every day and night
You were my best friend
I hated seeing you in pain, but you are in a better place
You were taken way to soon though.
Wishing that I could just pick up the phone and call you
Needing advice badly from you
I know you are up there looking down wishing you could be here for me
I just wish Heaven had visiting hours or a number
So, I could call or visit you
I know you are with me though
No matter where I am at or Where I go
I just must remind myself that
No matter what you are with me in my heart
So
I am not really walking alone along this lone depressed road called life
in this big lonely world.
Bobbi Settles
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
This year, a harvest of tears on knees
And a plentiful harvest (of souls) for Hillsong
Singing for Jesus Messiah, people, refugees ...
When Taya sang Hosanna (she soared)
But never left any of us - or Jesus - far behind
In Israel as Pilgrims, land ripe for the Called
for The Harvest, His Great Harvest ...
H A L L E L U J A H & Hosanna, His Commandment!
I have never seen singers lose egos
As well as Hillsong Servants do on stage
Pastors Brian and Bobbi led, now son Joel, and Taya ...
Just a young woman who loves God
She sings with all of humanity, - and more -
She carries all of us, and refugee children –
Maybe ABBA sang as four melting into one ...
Only worship can achieve pure self-abandon,
Where egos stay behind as ears and eyes open ...
Thought and meditation before words are spoken
LORD, how they make us weep with praise
God bless them all, every Hillsong willing slave,
And musicians who share these: "Prince of Peace;
Oceans; Man of Sorrows; Dirt and Grace -
Even when I have no Song, I will praise you" -
Taya, Holy Spirit has allowed us to roar and soar
Waiting for gospel in song, to change hearts, more ...
Holy fire come
I surrender all
Thy Kingdom Come
we gather one and all
Here Down Under
On your hills and beaches
Holy Fire roar
Holy Spirit teach us
Glory to the One
Who gathered all the nations
Where can we run
For true salvation
Here Down Under
God is moving strong
Spirit-led prayer
In Australia leads us Home
Singing out to God
Who sent us His Only Begotten Son
Now, too, His Spirit
Fire, Holy FIRE, You're the Only One
"You have no rival; You have no equal
Now and forever LORD you reign
What a wonderful name it is,
The Name of Jesus Christ my King."
(Dedicated to the soulful praise and Christian music of Hillsong, and the faithful preaching of Brian and Bobbi Houston. This Church saved my sister in Cape Town, for which I am ever grateful).
(in Memory of W. Houston)
After all that I've been
through
The trials and tribulations,
tried and true
PEACE, I ask of you, for
My curfew
Because I've done ALL,
that I can do
This I would grant, "if on
the other foot was the shoe"
Although, My Baby, "Bobbi-
Kris", it'll make her blue
Yet, it's over and done with,
"that Bird has flew"
Now, LORD, do "I LOOK TO
YOU"
I sat beside my window
To greet the early morn
And hope that I may hear soon
The buglers upon their horns
Only then will I be sure
That my heart be full of glee
Harrah! He is home now
My traveler has come for me
Traversed by naught but brave,
He tells me of these lands
Tales of beasts and babes
All tamed by his firm hands
Oh, I have traveled far and wide
Says he with a sigh
But have seen the greatest treasures
A-sitting by your side
When I become so weary
And the road becomes too rough
Why, I have naught to do
But think of you, my love
For my cousin Bobbi Jean.
May you and your family continue to have a blessed life.
It was a Saturday night, at around seven o’clock.
Still at home until the phone rang,
“Jacques, is that you?” the voice said.
“Yes” I said and quickly realized it was Simon.
“Come down to Club 21, all the gang’s here” he implored.
I quickly changed and ran out the door.
Oh, yes, everyone was there, a cornucopia of mixed delights.
Jeannie was there in a bright, tight blue dress.
Mandy was there dancing in a halter.
The twins, Bobbi and Bette, were smiling and offering drinks.
I couldn’t say no, now could I?
One thing led to another, drinks then did flow.
Looked at my watch, where did time go?
It was five in the morning, so I walked on home
Still wobbly and painless, but managed to roam.
It’s now nine in the morning, laying in bed.
What is that sound, and pain in my head?
My sister is yelling, to me, from the door.
Why did I ever agree to drink more?
She’s yelling that mom said we all have to go.
“It’s church time now, Jacques, Sunday you know?”
Oh why, yes, oh why, did I drink, not stay sober?
Now I am just suffering from the biggest hangover.
But my sister’s still screaming and louder she gets!
“Get outta here”, I shouted, “I need some more rest!”
In the event
there is an opportunity
In the event
there are challenges
let there be…
See our way-
Give me strength
In the event we shall win
Bobbi Day
Copyright ©2007 Bobbi Day
Bobbi Jo looked so pretty
In her wedding gown
But her veil of silk illusion
Couldn't hide her frown
All her friends and family
Were in the church that night
To see the "had to get married" wedding
And the shotgun her pa painted white
It was a FORMAL weddin' don'tcha know
Mrs. Fallicker
a Gurnsey dairy cow
chewing her gum cud,
laughing
moo laughs
about Bobbi
the first child in our class
to eat paste.
I walk amongst them
with my eager thoughts
tracing J's in dust jackets
with my pinky finger
eating letters,
A's like dry cheerios.
The gloss
of library book pages
thick with the musky smell of
forest floor
moss.
This school is foreign.