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Kevin Pace Poem
If I
were
a fish,
I'd tell
all my
friends,
that worms
come on
hooks
with sharp
pointy
ends.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
He worked on the land, a farmer by trade.
He never will know the impact he made.
When plowing the fields, his mind would be filled
with lessons in life he taught and instilled.
“Life’s pretty simple” my grandpa would claim,
“The rules we should live by are always the same.”
He delivered his thoughts in a wry kind of style.
You’d think he was mad, but then he would smile.
He was always profound, a man of his word.
He would always look forward despite what occurred.
“I’ve never reaped anything I didn’t first sow.
The seeds that you plant is the crop that will grow.
Fix your eyes on a spot, if you want to plow straight.
If you need to start over, it’s never too late.”
One thing I remember, he often would share,
“Don’t tear down a fence, ‘til you know why it’s there.
Some fences are built to keep danger away,
some fences are built so we’ll know where to stay.”
His philosophy in life was to, “Let people be.
I’m not here to judge, lest they should judge me.”
“Some things are better off left on the ground,
manure doesn’t stink ‘til you stir it around.”
The best thing he taught me was how I could find
the answer to anything crossing my mind.
Whatever I’d ask him, he’d get out the Book,
saying, “God wrote it down, if you take time to look.”
He understood things that few understand.
A farmer by trade, he worked on the land.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
Some people dream about being a star,
a gorgeous vacation, a house or a car.
Some dream of making that game-winning play.
Others may dream of a place far away.
For many it’s simply acceptance they seek,
courage, that they should no longer feel weak.
Some are consumed with making a name,
a quest for great riches, fortune, and fame.
For me, it’s quite simple, my one true desire,
is help people find their passion and fire.
What is it inside that tears at their soul?
What is their cause, their purpose, their goal?
I’ve found that if I inspire others to find,
the talent that’s buried somewhere in their mind,
then I too will somehow accomplish it seems,
the thrill of observing them capture their dreams.
So, let me ask you, because you have asked;
Do you have a dream you have taken to task?
And if it has no body laughing at all,
know that your dream is likely too small.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
To: Mandy Jo
She called me her friend. She was one of the few.
She saw in me things that no one else knew.
I was backward and shy, a chess club bore.
I had tape on my glasses. Need I say more?
She was one of the “popular” kids at the school.
But she crossed the line, broke an unwritten rule.
Intrigued by her interest, seduced by her smile,
she freshened my outlook and polished my style.
She taught me to soar like an eagle would fly.
I gave her a shoulder when she needed to cry.
We promised that no matter where life would lead,
we’d always “come running” if ever in need.
She married a friend and moved far away.
Her homesick heart was begging to stay.
With nowhere to turn and no friends to find,
she created a place to escape in her mind.
With an inner-rebellion that raged deep inside,
she barely resembled that beautiful bride.
Her body was ravaged. A self-induced crime.
She’d withered away in such a short time.
She looked in the mirror and actually said,
“I’m so over weight. I wish I were dead.”
Prophetic words from the shell of a soul,
who engaged in a battle and lost all control.
As I ran down the hall to the emergency door,
a shake of his head said, “She’s with us no more.”
Anguish screamed out at this undeserved fate.
My promise was broken. I’d shown up too late.
I wanted to tell her but I was too scared.
I’d practiced the words that never were shared.
Why didn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she see?
Why didn’t I help her like she had helped me?
I saw in her things that no one else knew.
She called me her friend, but it wasn’t true.
In honor of Amanda Jo Abel (Carnegie)
Unfortunately, this is a true story of a very dear friend of mine. Anorexia is a devastating
and hard to understand disease. I do understand that there was nothing I could do, it doesn’t
help. The memories of her beautiful spirit does. Thanks Mandy, I’ll see ya' someday.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
A new twist on a familiar story:
The Israelites feared the Philistines’ wrath.
A giant named Goliath stood right in their path.
They basked in confusion with no battle plan,
when one, but a boy, stood up like a man.
He was stricken by fear like all of the rest,
but courageously faced this challenging test.
He brashly proclaimed what it was he would do,
leaving no choice, but to then follow through.
He had some incentive that made him so bold;
the hand of a princess and riches untold.
Scoffing at the thought of sending just one,
they advised how to do what they had not done.
But the confident boy did not heed their advice,
he marched into battle without thinking twice.
He stood there alone, no armor or sword,
just a stone and a string, and his faith in the Lord.
While others stood back afraid to come near,
a leader stepped out and conquered his fear.
The giant that stood in the way of success,
came tumbling down in a minute or less.
Whatever we face on the path to our dreams,
is never as ominous as sometimes it seems.
When facing a giant, confused what to do,
remember how simple the stone David threw.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
My palms would sweat. I’d get physically sick.
Why was I always the last one they’d pick?
There were times I would not be selected at all,
for a physical game, I was pretty darn small.
I watched as they’d point, whisper, and scheme;
avoid if they could choosing me for their team.
My Dad told me, “Son, God made you this small,
to prove it’s not height that makes someone tall.”
So, he set up a goal post, and bought me a tee.
He told me, “Success would be all up to me.”
I practiced my kicking whenever I could.
I worked very hard ‘till I got pretty good.
I’ll never forget that hot summer day,
tryouts for high-school to see who would play.
The teasing began as I stepped on the field.
My jersey so big, they laughed and they squealed.
The coach even grinned, as I heard him say,
“This is not a good sport for peewees to play.”
The practice was brutal, even more than I thought.
But then, towards the end, at last came my shot.
Coach explained how important a kicker would be.
Last season they had lost four games under three.
He placed the ball down on the thirty-yard line,
forty-yards from the goal I had claimed to be mine.
There must have been twenty or more who had tried,
all woefully short as the coach merely sighed.
With hands on his head he looked to the sky.
I was the last to step up and ask, “Can I try?”
Everyone laughed, ‘till he shouted, “Enough!”
then mockingly said to me, “Show us your stuff.”
As I carefully positioned the ball on the tee,
it seemed the whole world was laughing at me.
So, I called on the power that God will provide,
then glanced to a nod from my Dad on the side.
Three great big steps and my toe struck the ball.
I caught it just right. I knew how after all.
It seemed like slow-motion as the team stopped to stare.
The ball gently tumbled as if floating on air.
The looks on their faces I could never replace,
as it split through the uprights with plenty of space.
I looked towards my Dad now beaming with pride,
then turned to the coach with his mouth open wide.
Cheers were replacing the laughs I’d revered,
on the day that hard work overcame what I feared.
I went on to college and professional ball,
but that was the kick I enjoyed most of all.
I don’t think I’d ever have worked quite that hard,
if I wasn’t picked last on that old school yard.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
The ice-cream store sign read, “Unique Sensation!”
A tantalizing twist in a strange combination.
What were they thinking creating that dish?
An eerie concoction of black licorice.
It sounded like such an intriguing new taste.
Vanilla cream mixed with a black swirling paste.
Soon after devouring my delectable cone,
I flashed a big smile, and the damage was shown.
The customers cringed at the horrible sight,
as if I were haunting their Halloween night.
I looked in the mirror at the dark hefty toll,
inside of my mouth had become black as coal.
It looked pretty bad, I couldn’t deny,
as if I were poisoned by black liquid dye.
I often consider why that flavor didn’t last,
why it dropped from the list so incredibly fast.
Perhaps all the screams, or the outspoken cries.
Perhaps from the laughter in onlookers eyes.
But, likely it was, when the workday was done,
they counted the sales, which totaled just one.
Should it ever return, that flavor so fine,
you know I’ll be back to be first-one-in-line.
Until then I’m satisfied simply to dream,
of that flavor called Licorice Voodoo ice-cream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Licorice Voodoo is the first poem-story I ever wrote. It is based on an experience as a kid,
when my Mom used to take me to get licorice ice-cream that no one else liked. I still look for
it, ... have never see it again.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
This is the story of Gideon as found in the book of Judges. Not a great warrior, not a great
leader, not someone with means. God picked someone no one else would have, and Gideon
responded. One of my favorite stories, 1) because of the way the Angel addressed Gideon,
2) because of the way Gideon responded (if God is with us, what good is it?) and 3) the way
God didn't answer him at all.
Their country had suffered for so very long.
An enemy army stood one million strong.
They came every year. There were no reprieves
from cave dwelling drifters, gypsies, and thieves.
They traversed the desert like pirates on sand.
When harvest would come, they’d ravage the land.
Like spiders in a web devouring their prey,
consuming whatever would stand in their way.
Death and destruction would litter their wake,
but that wasn’t all they had managed to break.
The hopes of a nation, extinguished by fears.
Autumn was coming, the battleground nears.
Gideon was part of the lower class tribes,
and least among them as the Bible describes.
He did his own thing and no one could see,
the champion inside him that one day would be.
Then an Angel appeared from out of the blue,
saying, “Hail man of valor. God is with you!”
Gideon looked around as if he’d not heard.
“What did you say? That’s completely absurd.
If God were with us…” Gideon extolled,
“Then why must we suffer? I have to be told.
Why are we tortured with death and disease?
Answer me that and I’ll bow to my knees.”
The Angel responded ignoring his plea.
“You have the power to go set them free!”
For, God won’t respond to complaints about “Why?”
His answer? Go change it, demanding we try.
“But, I’m just a poor shepherd? What could I do?”
The Angel said, “God sees a warrior in you.”
So, Gideon accepted God’s challenge to fight.
People would follow as he stood for what’s right.
He placed a few men in the enemy’s way.
He fooled the great army into running away.
Oppression defeated without raising a sword.
A victory of faith, a blessing from the Lord.
Hunger? Go feed them! Sick? Find the cure!
God gave us the ability to make it occur.
No matter what troubles we find ourselves in,
like Gideon, God gives us the courage to win.
When the challenge of life has filled up your cup,
listen for Angels to shout out, “Rise up!”
You are the one who can open closed doors.
Now Go, … save your country! The power is yours!
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
Movie triolet inspired by the movie "Rudy". Rudy is a true story of an Indiana kid with the
dream of playing football at Notre Dame. He was too small and too slow to even be
considered. Not to denied, he played on the practice team for three years. Finally, in the last
minute of his final game, his attitude earned him a spot in the game. One shining moment,
where a dream came true. Rudy is now a motivational speaker.
You moved the thing that wouldn’t move.
You pushed when no one thought you should.
Despite how hard they made it seem.
You moved the thing that wouldn’t move.
You didn’t let them steal your dream.
When no one else believed you would.
You moved the thing that wouldn’t move.
You pushed when no one thought you should.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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Kevin Pace Poem
I woke her up early, a quarter past five.
"It’s a beautiful day, let’s go take a drive.”
She didn’t jump up and exclaim I was right.
Instead, “Go away, it’s the middle of the night.”
"C’mon” I said, “Trust me. Let’s go and explore.”
I knew of a place she had not seen before.
I finally convinced her to get up and go,
I promised her one unforgettable show.
I drove her that morning to a place that I knew,
with a panoramic scene from a mountain top view.
Below in the valley as far as could see,
a misty cloud winding like roots of a tree.
The lights from the city like stars all aligned.
A painting so perfect, God’s blessing defined.
Then a bright glowing ball on the horizon arose,
rays of light danced with a brilliant repose.
Breathtaking, beautiful, awesome, serene.
No words could describe what I had just seen.
A moment like that, I could never replace.
It wasn’t the sun, but the look on her face.
Though she won’t admit it, this happened exactly this way, word for word. Branson, Missouri
2Q004. It was a gorgeous morning. We have shared many more since then. Sleeping in is
no longer an option... well, ... for me anyway.
Copyright © Kevin Pace | Year Posted 2010
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