‘Oft overlooked is the noble foot.
But please let me in, my 2 cents, put.
For, granted, it is so often, took.
Homely and crooked, though it may look,
still gets you there, that most noble foot.
Darrell Simmerman © 2026
A candlelit restaurant, where dine the elite
Securing a reservation, a near-impossible feat
My dream date and I, dressed to the nines
The views majestic, overlooking the Rhine
The décor exquisite, in the finest of taste
The service superb, orders prepared post-haste
But the cuisine so awful, my date gave me a glance
Darling, I confessed ~ I ordered the ambience
Words can serve to soften an unintended offense by
engaging attention, admitting fault and displaying selflessness.
"My bad", or more commonly, "I'm sorry" and "Forgive me"
In any language, they are a means to discovery, détente and delight-
Je suis desole, Es tut mir Leid, Lo lamento
Choosing to be heard honestly, the right words are crucial to
lightening the load, bandaging broken-ness as well as harboring hope.
And in addition, the voice tone, facial expression and body stance
are worth attending to in order to establish a sincere apology.
Thank God
for the
moral argument
And your conscience
for the
time and space
— of its creation
(Wilkes Barre Pennsylvania: March, 1989)
Thank You God for those who care
About the living they see out there
Those that are born just kept alive
Walking talking but torn inside
Thank you Lord for those that live
Seeing purpose and that they give
Those that see what’s going on
Not ignoring singing that song
Thank you friend with love with in
You see the world as it is kin
You see the help you can supply
And when asked you do not lie
Thank you Time for that you give
The cause and reason goodness lives
Bless the eyes and bless your ears
That find the needs while we are near
Thank you Heart for all the starts
Giving us the living part
Proving us a reason to live
Help us with that we need to fulfill
Thank You Heaven for seeing me
Giving me a reason to believe
Making me happy I have a part
Making help possible giving me a heart
A sly squirrel peddled bright tulips with glee,
But his cash stash was shady as can be.
The IRS came—what a fright!
He buried his bucks overnight,
Now he’s rich… in acorns, tax-free!
The Lord chose me for Himself,
Before the dawn of ages.
He asked not for my consent—
He simply said,
“You are a priest forever, as is Melchizedek.”
As I shepherd His flock,
The road grows long and weary;
At times the rains beat hard upon me,
Yet I take heart in His words:
“You are a priest forever, as is Melchizedek.”
Time has weathered my old soul,
Yet I have served with zeal.
“May I rest now, Lord?” I ask—
But He gently reminds me,
“You are a priest forever, as is Melchizedek.”
Though deeper hid, there below
A shy consciousness
He rose; nor as tentative
Lavishing advice.
To such girls, shaky-hearted
Worthiest portrayed
As a queen's own guard: "Go. Speak.
Harmless, that face. Nice!"
As every cassock is enough to tell
You are a minister
Either a chorister or a pastor
To grace well and impel
Is seeing you become only God's toastmaker
Every sunset gives us one day less to live
Count your seeds of the spirit
Spread through undaunted love
And not the course of service's bigot
But testimonies of brethren who enjoy your patency
But every sunrise give us one day more to hope
Most time making all observations dumbstruck
Replying each and every with a thunderstruck
It is no near to count a botch
If its effects work like a troche
Hope for the best for we are all human
Flaws are inevitable but can be abandon
No one has ever achieve chancery with God
That has ever live on earth a slipshod being
But clinching His dictates can make you ratherish well-bred
Good Luck
Get strong
Beefing do suck
Flee off wrong
It gets growth abating
Be the David's type Shepherd
Familiar with the said story
Not needed to be re-established
Failure needs no sorry
Be up and doing...
They walked where thunder pierced the skies.
And dust and fire stung their eyes.
Single file orders clear.
With hearts of steel and comrade’s check.
They marched along the edge of death.
Not for glory, or for praise.
Only for those with absent names.
Their love of land and comrades’ trust.
Some rose, some bled, some turned to dust.
In foreign fields on bended knees.
Themselves the price by all agreed.
A price so high and misunderstood.
Kept locked away where darkness lurks.
Some came home shadows attached.
Some returned, beat in mistrust.
Some still lie beneath the stone.
But we know that they will never come home.
We owe them more than words can say.
Their sacrifice means we live free today.
So, raise the flag and bow your head.
Honour the living and mourn the dead.
Let freedom ring where they once stood
These warriors of silence for a greater good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Press one for eternal sunshine, two to speak
with a representative currently buried under
three feet of seasonal despair. All other options
have been disconnected due to icy conditions.
Your call is important to us—please hold
through blizzards, black ice, and the existential
dread of winter.
Your estimated wait time:
until lilies break the thaw.
We apologize for the delay,
but spring’s already listening.
If you want love,
Serve others first;
Save others then.
The porch light flickers yellow in grey night,
Biting cold seeps in, stiffening my bones,
Soon, a shovel scrapes, screeching in the ice:
My neighbour is clearing a snowy path-
“Need help or lights, fixing the tree?” I ask.
These are not grand gestures, no trumpets blare,
Just quiet hands reaching out in the dark,
A warmth sparkling more than fire in the grate:
This, too, is Christmas love, an act to serve.
Love Language of Yuletide Poetry 12-18-25 Acts of Service Nette Onclaud
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Acts of Service
Some say that Christmas now wanders lost
Yet, I see a callous world remember
Neighbors, friends, in sweet homemade thank you cards
I see this world stretch loving hands
To those wearing rags, facing empty shelves,
They bring the Magi's gift to poverty
And make sure children have gifts by the tree
A world of aching feet asks no thank you
As they spread the Christ child's gift of joy.
When customer service forgets its name
and kindness dims to a fading flame ,
RESPECT grows thin and help grows small--
you start to wonder if they care at all…
She grew so harsh, as if kindness were a chore!
She pressed like a child, fierce in what she required,
never stopping to see how your body was tired.
She urged you to read - though the words turned to haze,
not caring your blurred eyes had reached their fading phase…
You try to rest inside that cramped small room ,
But comfort never seems to find its bloom.
No fan to stir the thick and weighted air ,
Just crowded bodies coughing everywhere…
You suffer through each careless, noisy burst
and peace , it seems , is always the one cursed.
And when all they care about is what they can gain,
not noticing your tired body or the strain,
it hits you somewhere deep, a quiet kind of sore…
some people put money first, nothing else anymore.
written_12072025_PandaLodge HomeStay
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