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Best Poems Written by Wanda Daugherty

Below are the all-time best Wanda Daugherty poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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God Stands

God Stands

When dust and time blot out my name;
And I rise to unknown strands,
And the whole world melts with fervent heat.
God Stands!

When the planets cease their movement;
Round the bright and shining sun,
And the elements blend together,
God has just begun.

When we lift our song together;
With flaming Angel bands,
On the tenth day of forever;
God Stands!

When kings and priests and armies;
Are crumbled in the dust.
When tanks and planes and rockets.
Have been consumed by rust;

When all our great intentions;
And all we think we know;
And all our brave ambitions,
Melt like winter snow.

God stands upon the silken rims;
Of time and infinity.
The stars are His pillows;
And endless space his sea.

When all we know and love are gone,
Our earth and sea and land,
When the elements melt with fervent heat.
God Stands!

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What Is a Poet

What is a Poet?

A singer of songs, a caller of warnings;
A crier of tears, a laugher, a weeper.
Lover of life; of nature, of God;
One set apart; scoffed at and shunned.
Sufferer of numberless maladies.
A poet spreads his soul;
Rampant over white paper;

To be wondered at and mocked.
To incite passion, tears, and smiles.

To expound truth and create beauty.

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In a Nutshell

In a Nutshell

The Son of God our Savior;
A human form He took;
Twas prophesied in days of old;
It's written in His book.

Blood ran on the whipping post,
That my sickness may be healed.
The story has been often told.
It's in His book revealed.

They nailed Him to a rugged Cross;
I know that Jesus died.
In awful pain and torment,
My Lord was crucified.

After He died they took Him down;
Our sacrifice for sin,
And placed Him in a borrowed tomb,
But then He rose again.

In three short days He rose again;
Up from His narrow cell.
Victor for all the human race.
He conquered Death and Hell.

To grasp this matchless treasure,
I have but to believe;
And open up my heart to God,
His Promise to receive.

In the clouds of Heaven,
Oh, Glory to his name.
I plan to meet Him in the air;
When my Lord comes again.

Then I'll dance the streets of Heaven,
With Peter,James and Paul;
Eternally safe in Jesus care.,
Jehovah, The God of all.

Details | Wanda Daugherty Poem

Shield Maiden

Shield Maiden

I have dreamed of the battle;
And truly I have heard,
The ring of sword upon sword;
And tasted blood between my teeth.

I have met the enemy head on;
And vanquished him.
But not before his blows;
Knocked me time and time again, to my knees.

I have defended hearth and home;
And babies dear, from large demon invaders, 
Blasting at my door.
Fearsome foes, not of this world.

I have met them on the field with battle cry;
I ran toward the fray.
I have sailed upon a long-ship bold;
To fight them in their own land.

But now my arm grows weary as I hold my sword.
The place is empty where my human strength resides.
My wound is deep, my tunic stained with my own blood.
The song of battle fades to just a whisper in the wind.

It is not Odin or Valhalla that I seek;
It is another place where all good warriors go;
Where one may breathe the sacred air of peace;
And rest forever with Jehovah God.

Details | Wanda Daugherty Poem

The Lighthouse Keeper

The people gathered around him;
As he was laid to rest that day,
Not far from the water,
A few yards from the bay.

The Preacher preached a sermon,
And the people sang a hymn,
Then they all told their stories;
Of what he'd done for them.

"I was lost out on the water;
In a cold December storm,
But he kept his light there burning,
To guide me back from harm."

Too late upon the water;
Caught without a light;
Many a weary Seaman;
Was saved there in the night.

Faithful Lighthouse Keeper,
Let me stand faithful too;
That others may see Jesus,
In things I say and do.

That others out there drifting
On life's troubled sea,
Might see the light of Jesus;
When they look at me.

Details | Wanda Daugherty Poem

The Good Harvest

The Good Harvest

Years ago I was a farmer,
And my neighbor had a field.
But he let it go to briars,
He was not concerned with yield.

As I passed his field one evening,
In my pocket there I found,
Four tiny seeds left over. 
From those I'd planted in the ground.

So I tossed them in his garden,
Not so mindful what would be.
If they sprouted with the briars
Mid the chaos what we'd see 

Summer rains and hot sun blasted.
Wind and snow upon the ground.
In the spring I gladly noted,
When there among the weeds I found.

Little plants with leaves uplifted,
Burst through the cluttered sod.
Like the Saints on Sunday morning.
Hands uplifted praising God.

Four dirty unkempt siblings
Wiggling squirming in their chairs.
No one watching no one caring,
How or why we found them there.

Rowdy, lively always talking
They put my patience to the test.
But I found that they were hungry
So I did my very best.

Jesus loved the little children
Each one precious in his eyes. 
Long years passed and I am grateful.
For I found a sweet surprise 

In the field where I had labored.
The word of God as best I could.
I found four happy Christians planted
Strong and faithful, that is good.

Details | Wanda Daugherty Poem

Craw-Fish Boil

The leaves were turning red and gold;
And frost was in the air.
When they rounded up the Acadians,
From Miquelon and Saint Pierre.

It was a time for groaning;
A cry from Cajun lips.
When they rounded up those Frenchmen;
And loaded them on ships.

So they came to "Louisiane;"
A strange and far-off land.
But thrived mid pines and cypress.
A hardy, cheerful band.

They learned to build the pirogue,
And find odd sorts of meat.
For in the swamps of "Louisiane";
The Cajun had to eat.

They learned to cook the Gumbo;
Which is a special dish;
But key to their survival;
Was a little Red Craw-fish.

The "Mud-bug" some folks call it.
But it's cooked with lots of love.
It's found in shallow water;
Which the South has plenty of.

It is a time for dancing;
It is a time for fun.
When the Cajuns get together;
And the the Red Craw-fish are done.

You boil them in some water;
And throw in lots of spice.
Some corn and some potatoes;
And some ice tea would be nice.

The Cajuns love their Craw-fish
Though it's been 200 hundred years.
Since they left their home in Canada,
And cried those bitter tears.

But the Cajun is resourceful;
Making use of what he can. 
He thrived to spite the English;
To prove he was the better man.

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Missing Kristen

Missing Kristen

Bright blue eyes that sparkle;
And gentle chestnut curls.
She dances through my heart strings;
My skinny baby girl.

So proud to be her Grandma;
Even though I'm kind of fat.
I chased her round my garden;
While she shouted, "I want that."

I miss her so this morning,
My skinny baby girl.
Though she's gone to Mississippi;
She's right here in my world.

She's in my broken what-nots;
In the pictures on my wall.
In the stains there on my sofa.
She's my baby after all.

My first beloved Grandchild;
Little keeper of my heart.
I am missing little Kristen,
Though I know we'll never part.

There's a bit of me inside her;
She's my Grandchild after all.
And  a bit of my dear husband;
And our families one and all.

She is so much like her Mother,
Yet also like her Dad.
Though she fractures my best china,
I will never call her bad.

We are always linked together;
By duty and by love
By the design of our great maker
Our Lord and God above.

Yet I'm missing my Granddaughter
Though she leaves me in a whirl.
My big-footed, darling Kristen;
My skinny baby girl

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The Prayer Meeting

The Prayer Meeting

I felt a raindrop on my brow;
Twas just the other day.
Out in the Pasture all alone, 
By myself to pray.

The rain fall oh so gently:
I felt the grass beneath my feet.
The wind rose sweetly round me,
On my little rocky seat.

A Mocking bird sang me a Carol.
And a tiny Wren sang me a hymn.
There was never a human singer;
Who could hold a candle to them.

The trees loomed strong above me;
And I knew they love him to,
For they raised their arms in His praises
In a praise that is always new.

I felt refreshed and nourished
For I'd been alone with God
Yet others praised Him around me.
And I thought it not one bit odd..

Details | Wanda Daugherty Poem

Two Freaks

Two Freaks

Two freaks sat by the side of the road.
Ostracized by all their kin.
People laughed as they passed by;
At the very sight of them.

One was twisted in body and soul;
With hair like a dandelion.
The other sat quoting sonnets of old;
He was quite diseased of mind.

One had hands that were crooked and gnarled.
The other the face of a child.
One ate grass like the beast that he was;
and murmured and groaned and growled.

The other put violets in his hair;
And swore to be good and kind.
To Pray to God and remember those;
Society left behind.

He quoted Longfellow, Shakespeare too,
Matthew, Luke and Paul.
The other wallowed in the mud.
And didn't care at all.

And so they lived by the side of the road;
With so much valor and poise.
One fool making love to life.
The other making noise.

Then came a day when folks didn't laugh.
They came with ropes and guns.
And did what seems and awful thing,
But a thing that had to be done.

For in this weird, unhappy world;
It is a sin to sing.
They murdered the gentle poet,
And crowned the Monster king.