Storms are troubles that are a part of your life.
They pass through from nowhere, in their wake is strife..
Pain and suffering may result and sometimes loss.
There is coverage left for you, at the foot of the Cross.
Nothing to put down, Someone already paid your cost.
We'll find peace & comfort where suffering took place.
A plan from God for the whole human race.
In your vehicle of thought, make it the first place to go.
The Underwriter name is God, in case you didn't know.
It is where where Jesus signed the contract for me.
Written in His Blood. The address Calgary.
From there God's angel messengers reach out to you.
Where sin-dead spirits arrive and leave renewed.
Coverage is given to all, no soul turned away.
Through Christ God guarantees coverage everyday!
To sign sign on the line, lay down your pride.
Admit you are wrong so Christ in you may abide.
It's a policy for life, nothing else needed to do.
Because Jesus, our agent has done all for you.
God activates it "IMMEDIATELY" to cover all strife.
He's like "Our Good Neighbor!" for all storms of our lives.
Eleven years ago tonight,
Our son and his new bride
Exchanged their vows to start their life
Together, side by side.
Today, they’re off to celebrate,
A mini-trip away
So with our grandkids (8 & 6)
We have the chance to stay.
It isn’t like the days gone by
When nanas merely cooked.
In modern days we Uber them
To every place they’re booked.
Today was soccer, tennis and
A trip to pick up glasses.
Tomorrow will be Hebrew school
And thus, the weekend passes.
This time is like a yummy cake -
The grands, of course, the frosting.
It’s totally delicious but
It’s totally exhausting.
GRANDS OF GLOCKENSPIEL
O beloved grands of glockenspiel,
a mallet never gave such pleasure,
as when those filled with innocence
expound a bell-like sound, the ring of laughter
caught between the door and walls.
A magical metallophone of minds,
curious with over the rainbow octaves,
living in a harmonious fantasy, of which
g-rents are glad to occupy,
though less spry then when 29.
O beloved children of glockenspiel,
you are a treasure of keys,
at first rehearsed of xylophone, but
then you rise on knees and toes,
with roses of sweet overtures.
3/9/2020
"Those were better times. Good times!
Being round my grands…
It reminds me of my grandparents;
Grandma, baba, ouma, bomma grandmother;
Love to read poems sing them ole time songs;
So much love they given each of us;
Those were better times. Good times!
Being round my grands…
Yet they were stern
Great teachers taught my parents as will as me to learn;
They listened to a Motorola on a tall stand;
Nonna would play a little ditty on the “baby grand”
Oh! And Gran made fried pies on Sundays;
Those were better times. Good times!
Being round my grands…
We would have with our dinner;
Homemade chicken soup, meatloaf and cabbage loaf;
My grandpa and his friends would sit outside talkN loud
While listening to the ballgame on a transmitter radio;
The ladies would settle in the den;
Nesting caressing darning with patch qulits using needles and tread;
Joyously giggling laughing while lovingly talkN bout them men;
Those were better times. Good times!
Being round my grands…"
1/4/20
Written words by Genysis DMaurier & James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
A dedicated verse to Genysis DMaurier
based on words from Genysis to a e-mail to me
Yogurt smoothies, Cocoa Puffs,
Mac & cheese and chicken;
Mushrooms, couscous, turkey (sliced)
And lots of snacks for pickin’.
Cheetos, corn chips, Goldfish,
Peaches, olives and a plum;
Watermelon, cantaloupe
And still, there’s more to come…
Swiss cheese, pickles, Kit Kats
And some mini ice-cream cones;
Yummy corn still on the cob,
Organic milk for bones.
Sautéed broccoli and oh,
Some lemon poppy muffins,
All to fill the bellies
Crying out for constant stuffins’.
A weekend with the grandkids
Is exhausting but so sweet
Just as long as we supply the food
They really love to eat.
First the ride (with kids' CDs)
Then supermarket (mini-cart);
Buying lots of food to please
Then snacks and playground, for a start.
Books and Curious George on tape,
Dinner, Face-Time Mom & Dad;
From routines a great escape.
What a time we all have had!
Baths and bedtime story, then
Hugs and kiss and cozy tuck;
Next some calm for hours when
Our perfect streak has lost its luck.
One child up who needs attention
(Seems it's not an easy fix).
If you see me, please don't mention
Age and lack of sleep don't mix.
Breakfast, music, puzzles, playing;
Happy Birthday Daddy call.
Ride to Music Fest and staying
Long enough for smiles for all.
See the water wheel still turning;
Marvel at the way it works.
Home for lunch with time for learning.
(Smart genetics has its perks.)
Visit friends to see their fishes;
Hit the playground once again.
Back for dinner and some wishes
That I'll have the time to pen.
Winding down with books and bingo
And a VCR cartoon.
Two short bedtime tales, then zingo -
Day is over, none too soon.
For though there has been no blunder
On this weekend on our own,
It's so tiring, I wonder
How we ever raised our own!
I Miss My Maternal Grands
----------------------------------------
That big red cock with long beard
And sturdy limbs
Crowed every minute, haha!
In loud voice like the growling lion claiming his kingdom .
Danced around and romanced and ...!
Those dozens of hens dust-bathed
In the calm middays in the shady backyard .
I leapt in joy...! grandma's permission to open the hen-house's door, and collect the dozens of eggs,
In the mornings, at teatime.
And as the ducks returned home
In long rows in the evenings ,
All the fowl had a paddy-dinner together, before going to bed:
Grandma spilled to her flock,
Every sunup and dusk.
I miss my maternal grands , loving uncles and aunts .
I miss that yard in the shade of walnuts --I spent my childhood .
To Winkin’
Blinkin’
and of course nod.
In terms of
symmetry
prose and
shish kabob.
The tricks and twirls
and polar light;
the flip and flare and star
of kiddy sleepless night
can rip and roar
and rankle up
a juicy fight,
in the twinkle of an eye.
Forget wit and woe
and places to and fro and
things obscure in fuzzy
wuzzy lights to
swing and sway in
wrinkled tights
or sit boldly still
daring you to
a contest of will
hanging in a drop
of drool falling from
yon wounded whipporwill.
Will he will or will he won’t, or
do the thing we don’t?
I see again in terms
of symmetry you see.
But mostly for the rhyme
I hear inside the room
just made for me
in terms of speech and
in the song of my
sweet cooing babe.
© 9/17/2016
Charles G. Henderson
coffee best describes
papa joe's essence for me
coffee kisses- YES
fertilizer stink
paternal grandaddy smell
famous tomatoes
noxzema only
for miss toby before bed
shakey hands slicked up
but then grandmama
whew! peach cobbler first of all
sweet corn, pot roast, ham
oh man, those fried pies
blackberry and peach goodness
beautiful mem'ry
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