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John Hardison Poem
In this land there is a mighty voice that can
sing a mighty song.
Often it is a song of I don’t belong and all sort
of other things that are wrong.
This mighty voice can herald itself in the
grateful praise of being strong.
All while asking what else is to be spawn in a
struggle to do no wrong.
Should it be we shall live in all eternal
knowing wrong being strong.
It is God’s place to be so strong and
to know all wrong.
So it is in praise to him we should knell as we
spawn our grateful song.
There is one more thing in his Love
eternal song
We all belong.
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2015
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John Hardison Poem
A PROSPECTIVE.
A POSTAL EMPLOYEE IS LICKED.
A GROCERS IS FRESH.
A FIRE FIGHTER IS PUT OUT.
A TEACHER IS LEARNED.
A WINE IS BOTTLED UP.
A MAILER IS SENT OUT.
A FISHERMAN IS FISHY.
A MASON IS BRICKED.
A CAR IS TIRED.
A DOG IS BONED.
A CAT IS MOUSEY.
A BOY IS PLAY.
A GIRL IS FANCY STUFF.
A MAN IS STRONG.
A WOMAN IS LOVE.
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2015
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John Hardison Poem
Child like Journey
On a gurney.
It’s not funny.
For the money.
Its not phony.
Room for Bunny.
Not be naughty
Must go to potty.
No much folly.
Fell into gully.
Must be worldly.
Were is mommy?
Feel so cuddy.
Gives me plenty.
Full of jelly.
Knows my belly.
It’s not silly.
Brother a Bully.
My noise runny.
My feet muddy.
My friend Holly.
I remember honey.
Makes me jolly.
Like toy trolley.
It wants hilly.
About my tummy.
It’s so bloody.
Feel so weakly.
I am Sleepy.
Were my buddy.
Would be lovely…
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2015
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John Hardison Poem
The Thing.
The thing is everybody has a thing.
As things go, it is not a bad thing.
The thing is, the thing is only a thing.
There for just a thing.
If the thing were to be more than one thing,
It would be two or more things.
If your thing is just like my thing.
It adds up to nothing.
Things being as they are, there is
Just too much of this sort of thing.
Maybe there could be a world thing.
As only an everything.
A truly blessed thing.
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2020
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John Hardison Poem
Ode’ to the Tree
Farewell old tree.
We know you are free.
Never to lose anything again.
Nor find your leaves to be.
Such goes history of,
Not only trees so free,
But those of countries,
Thought not so free.
Oh could it be?
You are a seed,
We all need,
To take heed,
For All To Be Free…
John H Hardison..
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2015
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John Hardison Poem
Best in retirement.
There comes a joy, a contentment not had before in life.
The struggles in life about over, the ordeals mostly gone.
Sweet surrender it is called but it’s more like victory.
Victory over life not had years before.
New friends become familiar, old ones more dear.
For some it is to know steadfastly they are going home.
Not to an earthly dwelling place but an eternal home.
To Loves eternity without question.
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2016
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John Hardison Poem
Valley and Mountain
The valley in our lives is so often our own
hates, jealousies, and faults.
The mountain standing majestic and tall
is Love in all forms.
It beckons you, it says come here and find
what is in yourself.
Some think you need to be on top to have it all
others know this is not it at all.
The base of any mountain of Love is where the
top is found.
It bounds and bounds all around knowing the
steps to be take by all.
It is one at time as we come and go but best
of all this is not all.
It is more than standing majestic being tall or
trying to beat all.
It’s being there, for all.
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2015
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John Hardison Poem
Christy, Christafur Cat.
Was a southern cat.
Her ancestors came from the south of Spain.
His Great, Great, Grandfather was a
venturesome Cat who came across the Seven Seas.
Not Long after that he met another southern
Cat This one from the heart of Georgia.
As the years came and went History was
recorded by some other Cats.
To which Christy, Christafur, Cat asks.
Why is that? How do you know that?
Can you prove that? Is that a fact?
My dear Christy, Christafur, Cat I
really don’t know. You are such a Loveable
Cat. That is that. YOU CAT!
John H. Hardison..
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2015
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John Hardison Poem
From two feet above.
I could see myself. I had jumped off the boat
into water over my head.
I wished I were back in the boat instead of
waiting to breath.
I could see myself walking along the bottom of
the lake.
I was about three feet tall then. A child and yet
a man as I walked.
I had made it to shore at long last with a
gasp.
I had walked ten feet to shore as I had never
walked before.
I felt in my windedness, I belonged back
there.
Why I asked myself, I am not a fish.
John H. Hardison..
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2015
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John Hardison Poem
The Rainbow.
It must have spanned a quarter of a mile from
ground level end to end, a quarter mile
high in the sky.
I saw some children coming from their cars and
I said look there’s a rainbow. They did not seem
to dare nor to care nor understand
The shopping mall is new, the children are too
I wondered about both to big to
numb to rainbow.
I sat in my car, rain began to fall, the rainbow
in the sky began to fuse at one end to become
one with the sky.
The other end seemed brighter for a time
I figured it was time to leave. I drove
closer to home.
The people in their cars staring only at the line
of standing car in front of them. I wanted to shout
there’s a Rainbow!
But questioned why bother, it’s dying but not
As dead before it’s time as those who did not
wish to Rainbow.
Thoughts came of yesterdays and what of the
Tomorrows the children will they see as I
it’s rainbows of life.
Tears did come, so pretty was the rainbow.
Other thoughts came. It’s better to
think not of tomorrows.
Nor the many yesterdays, think only of today
and what a beautiful life to behold
any of it’s rainbows.
I know well of the pot gold at the end of
life’s rainbow. It shines brighter to a heavenly
light on into daylights bright.
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Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2015
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