Details |
John Wilkinson Poem
What's it to be, with this wee plant, and me?
What will we see, fruit flower, or tree?
If it's fruit we want, and flowers to see, we'll surely need help, from a neighborly bee.
Pruning a tree or shrub by me, is a job you see, but it's all for free.
While feeding a tree, knowing sprayings not free, quality fruits are well worth the fee.
Results are what counts, whether flower or fruit, a showcase of beauty for all to see.
In conclusion, a garden of joy we see, to share with friends like you and me.
And this my friends, ends this tale, from me, as I'm constantly filled with gardening glee.
john wilkinson late spring 2011
Copyright © John Wilkinson | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
John Wilkinson Poem
So many years, so long ago, Jesus beckoned us to go.
To hear His message loud and clear, we'll hear it better through both ears.
The thoughts He shares may bring us tears, although little reason for any fears.
Forgiveness all, who confess our sins, proclaim to others with no chagrin.
For some who wait too long, you see, means wasted joy that makes us free.
Peace of mind once we've been blessed accepting Jesus, a worthy quest.
My tale of God, and Jesus too, companions of a Spirit true.
All remain to ease the way, on this dear earth till judgement day.
My life has mellowed well with age, a smarter me since I have engaged.
Prayers for all, who believe it's true, we ask for God to see them through.
I know this day faith leads the way, with open hearts and minds at play.
Others, who never see the light, perhaps some day they'll know John's right.
John Wilkinson Easter Spring 2011
Copyright © John Wilkinson | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
John Wilkinson Poem
O little creek, if I could only hear you speak again, splashing in your creek.
Today there's sounds of water, as you gurgle in your race beneath the bridge.
It was surely such a short time that you lived upon the ridge.
Summer was so hot and dry, and I missed your chuckle by and by.
Born from a peak so high above, you now speed through forest lands, to a lake with anxious love.
As you're swallowed up in hunger to mingle with the rest, you've a tale to tell to the fish in a very wet bequest.
A mountain now looks down from its lofty high, at a lake recharged with water from the ever blessed sky.
Copyright © John Wilkinson | Year Posted 2009
|