Occasion: I wrote this one for my siblings for Christmas 1987.
To sit and think back on your life is a monumental task,
It gives you things to think about and questions you might ask,
You think about the things you’ve done and the places that you’ve been,
And you wonder if you had to, would you do it all again?
But mostly what you think of more than any thing thus far,
Is the people that you live with and who they really are.
They are relatives and neighbors, teachers, friends and foes,
Some you see from day-to-day while other no one knows.
It’s difficult to understand why I should be so blessed,
To have spent my life with people so much better than the rest,
I’m speaking of my siblings, with whom I’ve had my fights,
But without whom I might not have made it through so many nights.
The tallest one around the house is my oldest brother, Scott,
He’ll listen to my problems when all the rest will not.
He’s always been my confidante, my example and my friend,
And I know that he’ll be there for me when times are thick and thin.
I only have one sister, she’s the apple of my eye,
She’s as beautiful as Venus and as tough as any guy.
Except for my Mother she’s the best at things a Mom has done,
And I love my sister Kim as much as I love anyone.
The middle child is Craig, who so wants to succeed,
That he’ll do most anything to cover any need.
That’s not to say he’s greedy for he’d give up all he’s got,
To help when I’m in trouble or just love me when I’m not.
And then there’s Chris, the youngest, or the baby as it were,
He’s self-assured and confidant and a snap in school for sure.
I know that he will always have the things that he might need,
And with the savvy he’s been blessed with, he’s destined to succeed.
To be thankful for my brothers doesn’t seem to be enough,
And to love my sister dearly isn’t really very just,
So I pray that God will keep them and that they too will be blessed,
For they deserve the very most for to me they are the best.
December 25, 2004
November 21, 2004
A Love Poem
Occasion: I'm not really sure what prompted this one. Just lovin' my mom that day I guess. Again, the year was 1985.
What can I say,
To one so dear,
“Your eyes are like…?”
No!
How can I tell you,
What’s in my heart,
“Roses are red…?”
Too corny.
What do I do,
To show what I feel,
“Let me count the ways…?”
I guess I’ll just say it,
From the depths of my soul,
“Thanks Mom.”
What can I say,
To one so dear,
“Your eyes are like…?”
No!
How can I tell you,
What’s in my heart,
“Roses are red…?”
Too corny.
What do I do,
To show what I feel,
“Let me count the ways…?”
I guess I’ll just say it,
From the depths of my soul,
“Thanks Mom.”
November 04, 2004
A Little Speck of Light
Occasion: Tina and I were married on September 30, 1988. Two weeks later I was sent to Germany by Uncle Sam. She didn't arrive until mid December. During the three months we were apart I experienced a new kind of lonliness. I concieved this poem walking through the German country side near Achsheim, Germany. As is still the case, she was all I could think about.
Proverbs 5:18, "May you rejoice in the wife of your youth."
The sky was clear as crystal,
The air was cold as ice,
My breath seemed thick as cotton,
That lovely autumn night.
I had no destination,
As I walked on through the night,
Then I saw it blink beside me,
A little speck of light.
We seemed to see each other,
As we gazed from afar,
And nothing else existed,
Just me and that little star.
Oh, there were many others,
But none that shone as bright,
And I knew I loved that star, although
Twas just a speck of light.
And while we stood there staring,
Wouldn’t you just know
That little speck of twinkling light,
Began to grow and grow.
While my heart raced with excitement,
My mind was whirling fast,
And I stood and reached toward it,
To touch my star at last.
Then suddenly it disappeared,
As I opened up one eye,
And I found that I’d been dreaming,
And it made me want to cry.
But then I noticed something,
That I’ve longed for all my life,
On my desk stood a little picture,
Of my dearest, darling wife.
And in that little picture
Was a very wondrous sight,
For in my Tina’s big blue eyes,
Was that little speck of light.
I wrote this poem to tell you,
That no matter where you are,
Tina I’ll love you forever,
And you’ll always be my star.
Proverbs 5:18, "May you rejoice in the wife of your youth."
The sky was clear as crystal,
The air was cold as ice,
My breath seemed thick as cotton,
That lovely autumn night.
I had no destination,
As I walked on through the night,
Then I saw it blink beside me,
A little speck of light.
We seemed to see each other,
As we gazed from afar,
And nothing else existed,
Just me and that little star.
Oh, there were many others,
But none that shone as bright,
And I knew I loved that star, although
Twas just a speck of light.
And while we stood there staring,
Wouldn’t you just know
That little speck of twinkling light,
Began to grow and grow.
While my heart raced with excitement,
My mind was whirling fast,
And I stood and reached toward it,
To touch my star at last.
Then suddenly it disappeared,
As I opened up one eye,
And I found that I’d been dreaming,
And it made me want to cry.
But then I noticed something,
That I’ve longed for all my life,
On my desk stood a little picture,
Of my dearest, darling wife.
And in that little picture
Was a very wondrous sight,
For in my Tina’s big blue eyes,
Was that little speck of light.
I wrote this poem to tell you,
That no matter where you are,
Tina I’ll love you forever,
And you’ll always be my star.
October 29, 2004
The Word
Occasion: When I was in Jr. High I knew a girl named Donna. She was the girl in every school who was picked on, ignored, teased, etc. I never participated in those things, but I also never stood up for her, which I often felt I should. I wrote this poem several years later, in 1984, after I heard she had commited suicide.
She was a good friend,
From beginning to end,
We had the same classes in school,
We always would pick,
Who could be in our clique,
All our classmates thought we were cool.
On the weekend my perch,
Was a place we called church,
I’d show up in my coat and my tie,
They said I was so sweet,
Cause my clothes were so neat,
There was no better Christian than I.
On Monday I found,
She was now in the ground,
Somehow, unexpectedly dead,
On Sunday at home,
Only sorrow she’d known,
By herself put a gun to her head.
When I’d thought it all out,
With a cry and a shout,
It occurred to me, I’d never shared,
That God loved her so much,
That all it takes is a touch,
To bring happiness when ere you’re scared.
Now one word describes me,
And the feelings inside me,
And I hope that I’m not always it,
Now I know He lives in me,
And I pray He forgives me,
Cause that one word is this:
HYPOCRITE.
She was a good friend,
From beginning to end,
We had the same classes in school,
We always would pick,
Who could be in our clique,
All our classmates thought we were cool.
On the weekend my perch,
Was a place we called church,
I’d show up in my coat and my tie,
They said I was so sweet,
Cause my clothes were so neat,
There was no better Christian than I.
On Monday I found,
She was now in the ground,
Somehow, unexpectedly dead,
On Sunday at home,
Only sorrow she’d known,
By herself put a gun to her head.
When I’d thought it all out,
With a cry and a shout,
It occurred to me, I’d never shared,
That God loved her so much,
That all it takes is a touch,
To bring happiness when ere you’re scared.
Now one word describes me,
And the feelings inside me,
And I hope that I’m not always it,
Now I know He lives in me,
And I pray He forgives me,
Cause that one word is this:
HYPOCRITE.
October 28, 2004
The Gift
Occasion: I wrote this poem while watching my son, Samuel, roll around on the floor shortly after his first birthday, in 1992. It had been several years since I last wrote a poem and I wondered if I'd ever write again. That day he inspired me. He still does.
I was sitting in my chair and reading
Quietly at home
My son was rolling on the floor
Content to play alone
Then something caught my eye
So I looked down at my boy
He stood before my chair
Showing me a toy
His eyes were wide with wonder
His face locked in a grin
I knew just what he wanted
So I knelt down with him
And for the first time in a long time
On that quiet autumn day
This father took his only child
And we set out to play
And as we played with all the things
That he had lying there
I looked him in his big blue eyes
And daddy said a prayer
“God, how can I thank you
For this little man of joy
Who brings me so much happiness
Lord thank you for my boy
“My father, take this child please
Though he is only one
I know that you can use him
So I’m giving you my son."
Later on that night
He lay quietly in bed
I reached down toward him
And kissed him on his head
And I thought how much I love him
How it hurts to see him cry
How much more it must have hurt my Lord
To send His Son to die.
"Lord, I really want to thank you
For all that you have done
From one father to another
Thank you for my son."
I was sitting in my chair and reading
Quietly at home
My son was rolling on the floor
Content to play alone
Then something caught my eye
So I looked down at my boy
He stood before my chair
Showing me a toy
His eyes were wide with wonder
His face locked in a grin
I knew just what he wanted
So I knelt down with him
And for the first time in a long time
On that quiet autumn day
This father took his only child
And we set out to play
And as we played with all the things
That he had lying there
I looked him in his big blue eyes
And daddy said a prayer
“God, how can I thank you
For this little man of joy
Who brings me so much happiness
Lord thank you for my boy
“My father, take this child please
Though he is only one
I know that you can use him
So I’m giving you my son."
Later on that night
He lay quietly in bed
I reached down toward him
And kissed him on his head
And I thought how much I love him
How it hurts to see him cry
How much more it must have hurt my Lord
To send His Son to die.
"Lord, I really want to thank you
For all that you have done
From one father to another
Thank you for my son."
October 12, 2004
Writers Block
Occasion: Another creative writing assignment from 1985. We were to write about a situation we had personally experienced that we would consider 'difficult'. I distinctly remember the instructor dismissing my poem because he didn't like my 'situation'. I think I got a C-.
I get the assignment,
I sit down to write,
I stare at the paper,
All day and all night.
I hate this assignment,
It’s not like the rest,
The others were easy,
This one’s a test.
I’m tired of thinking,
My thoughts are a lump,
Then at two in the morning,
I wake with a jump.
I turn on my lamp,
I look at the clock,
I get pen and paper,
And write, “Writers Block.”
I get the assignment,
I sit down to write,
I stare at the paper,
All day and all night.
I hate this assignment,
It’s not like the rest,
The others were easy,
This one’s a test.
I’m tired of thinking,
My thoughts are a lump,
Then at two in the morning,
I wake with a jump.
I turn on my lamp,
I look at the clock,
I get pen and paper,
And write, “Writers Block.”
September 19, 2004
Half Mast
Occasion: I wrote this poem on September 19, 1986, while thinking about the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion, obviously several months after the fact.
Many people read from pages,
Of long forgotten lore,
And cry for people of past ages,
And dying men of yore.
We watch our television screens,
As seven people die,
We wonder just what all this means,
And always question why.
It matters not when these men fall,
Today or years gone past,
We honor them both large and small,
With flags flown at half-mast.
But what about the men we see
As we walk by and by,
What kind of tribute will there by,
For the people we watch die?
People are dying every day,
And we're doing nothing fast,
We sit idly by the way,
With no flags at half-mast.
Many people read from pages,
Of long forgotten lore,
And cry for people of past ages,
And dying men of yore.
We watch our television screens,
As seven people die,
We wonder just what all this means,
And always question why.
It matters not when these men fall,
Today or years gone past,
We honor them both large and small,
With flags flown at half-mast.
But what about the men we see
As we walk by and by,
What kind of tribute will there by,
For the people we watch die?
People are dying every day,
And we're doing nothing fast,
We sit idly by the way,
With no flags at half-mast.
September 13, 2004
Once
Occasion: I wrote this during my second semester in Bible school, 1986. I had kind of started liking Tina during the summer and once back at college I found myself thinking about her constantly. She kind of took my breath away. Still does.
Once upon a lonely time,
Once upon a day,
Once I had no bell to chime,
Once no words to say.
Once I lived in poverty,
Once I had no gold,
Once there was no sun to see,
Once my days were cold.
Once is but a time gone past,
Once has passed away,
Once had bells that couldn't last,
Once had naught to say.
Now I have a richness great,
Because a precious stone,
Has come into my life of late,
That gem is you alone.
Once upon a lonely time,
Once upon a day,
Once I had no bell to chime,
Once no words to say.
Once I lived in poverty,
Once I had no gold,
Once there was no sun to see,
Once my days were cold.
Once is but a time gone past,
Once has passed away,
Once had bells that couldn't last,
Once had naught to say.
Now I have a richness great,
Because a precious stone,
Has come into my life of late,
That gem is you alone.
September 12, 2004
The Wall
Occasion: I wrote this poem after returning from a trip to Washington DC with my dad in the summer of 1985. We visited the Viet Nam Memorial and it impressed me. I had to write.
The air is cold,
The dawn breaks bold,
A mist is on my breath.
I stand and stare,
In cold despair,
Upon this wall called death.
On slabs of black,
Like clouds of flak,
I read the names in grey.
They tell of wars,
On foreign shores,
And horrors of the day.
I hear the screams,
I see the streams,
Of life-blood in the dew.
I hear the cries,
And blood drenched sighs,
A soldier’s life is through.
Through fields of grain,
In pouring rain,
There's something very wrong.
His buddy's dead,
Just half a head,
He hates the Viet Cong.
Eighteen he'll be,
The first of three,
His parent’s oldest son.
With head held high,
He'll try and try,
But still they'll take Saigon.
He tries to fight,
All through the night,
But then he takes his fall.
The years went fast,
He's home at last,
His name is on the wall.
The air is cold,
The dawn breaks bold,
A mist is on my breath.
I stand and stare,
In cold despair,Upon this wall called death.
The air is cold,
The dawn breaks bold,
A mist is on my breath.
I stand and stare,
In cold despair,
Upon this wall called death.
On slabs of black,
Like clouds of flak,
I read the names in grey.
They tell of wars,
On foreign shores,
And horrors of the day.
I hear the screams,
I see the streams,
Of life-blood in the dew.
I hear the cries,
And blood drenched sighs,
A soldier’s life is through.
Through fields of grain,
In pouring rain,
There's something very wrong.
His buddy's dead,
Just half a head,
He hates the Viet Cong.
Eighteen he'll be,
The first of three,
His parent’s oldest son.
With head held high,
He'll try and try,
But still they'll take Saigon.
He tries to fight,
All through the night,
But then he takes his fall.
The years went fast,
He's home at last,
His name is on the wall.
The air is cold,
The dawn breaks bold,
A mist is on my breath.
I stand and stare,
In cold despair,Upon this wall called death.
September 10, 2004
Pondering
Occasion: I was stationed at the Presidio of San Francisco in 1987 and had lots of time to think about stuff. Most of the "stuff" I thought about was Tina. Man, she can be distracting. My room there had a fairly good view of the back side of San Francisco. Once again, Tina was my muse.
Looking out upon the city,
Through the darkness of the night,
I can’t describe the beauty,
Of the tiny, twinkling lights.
How they stand against the blackness,
Of the somber, evening sky,
How they seem so unaffected,
As the wind goes howling by.
It’s hard for me to tell you,
What my mind sees late at night,
Or how it’s you I think of
While staring at those lights.
Their number is so countless,
Yet they seem like very few,
And it makes it difficult not to see,
That there’s only one of you.
When my life seem filled with darkness,
Just like the still, long nights,
You simply brighten up my day,
More than all those city lights.
Looking out upon the city,
Through the darkness of the night,
I can’t describe the beauty,
Of the tiny, twinkling lights.
How they stand against the blackness,
Of the somber, evening sky,
How they seem so unaffected,
As the wind goes howling by.
It’s hard for me to tell you,
What my mind sees late at night,
Or how it’s you I think of
While staring at those lights.
Their number is so countless,
Yet they seem like very few,
And it makes it difficult not to see,
That there’s only one of you.
When my life seem filled with darkness,
Just like the still, long nights,
You simply brighten up my day,
More than all those city lights.
Sacramento
Occasion: I wrote this for a creative writing class early in my college career. The assignment was to write about the place we grew up.
In a valley where cold winds blow,
Lots of rain but little snow,
Chilly river waters flow,
Winter in Sacramento.
Weeds are tall it’s time to mow,
Pollen in the breezes blow,
I ain’t ‘lergic to nothing though,
Spring in Sacramento.
Down the river rafters row,
Evening traffic’s much too slow,
We’ll be too late to see the show,
Summer in Sacramento.
Off to school we all must go,
What’s ahead we just don’t know,
Grass and trees all cease to grow,
Fall in Sacramento.
In a valley where cold winds blow,
Lots of rain but little snow,
Chilly river waters flow,
Winter in Sacramento.
Weeds are tall it’s time to mow,
Pollen in the breezes blow,
I ain’t ‘lergic to nothing though,
Spring in Sacramento.
Down the river rafters row,
Evening traffic’s much too slow,
We’ll be too late to see the show,
Summer in Sacramento.
Off to school we all must go,
What’s ahead we just don’t know,
Grass and trees all cease to grow,
Fall in Sacramento.
August 31, 2004
To An Unknown Child
Occasion: I wrote this in 1984 but I don't know what prompted it. The previous year, my last in High School, I took a class called Protest Literature. My semester report was on Abortion.
They never believed,
That he’d be conceived,
That little baby boy,
They’d tried it at last,
Put it all in their past,
They thought it was a toy.
He’s got little hands,
And a brain that commands,
His little heart to beat,
He is perfect each way,
Getting stronger each day,
From his head to his tiny feet.
He perished one day,
In a pre-conceived way,
On an early, misty morn.
Once made in a flash,
Now he lives in the trash,
He was never even born.
Only memories remain,
Of a girl gone insane,
From a child that will never trod,
In the grass or the trees,
Never sit on her knees,But he sits on the lap of GOD.
They never believed,
That he’d be conceived,
That little baby boy,
They’d tried it at last,
Put it all in their past,
They thought it was a toy.
He’s got little hands,
And a brain that commands,
His little heart to beat,
He is perfect each way,
Getting stronger each day,
From his head to his tiny feet.
He perished one day,
In a pre-conceived way,
On an early, misty morn.
Once made in a flash,
Now he lives in the trash,
He was never even born.
Only memories remain,
Of a girl gone insane,
From a child that will never trod,
In the grass or the trees,
Never sit on her knees,But he sits on the lap of GOD.
August 30, 2004
A Friend
Occasion: I think 1987 prompted this one all by itself. Other than that, I can't remember.
I think I found the Answer,
To the feelings that I’ve had,
That make me feel envious,
Jealous, down and sad.
I’ve never had a best friend,
With whom to spend the day,
Or sit and talk and laugh with,
And wile the hours away.
A friend who wants to see me,
And whose day I make glad,
Or who will hear my troubles,
When the times are rough or bad.
Oh sure, I have my share of friends,
With whom to take a walk,
But never one I’d think of,
When I need someone to talk.
Now it’s not that I need pity,
Or want it for myself,
Cause most of this I’ve done alone,
By sitting on my shelf.
But I see how other peoples eyes,
Light up when someone’s near,
And it doesn’t take too much to see,
That someone’s very dear.
And as I sit and write,
Of the things I wish could be,
I soon begin to realize,
And my mind begins to see.
God loves me so very much,
That to save me from the end,
He gave His only Son to die,
And thus be my Best Friend.
I think I found the Answer,
To the feelings that I’ve had,
That make me feel envious,
Jealous, down and sad.
I’ve never had a best friend,
With whom to spend the day,
Or sit and talk and laugh with,
And wile the hours away.
A friend who wants to see me,
And whose day I make glad,
Or who will hear my troubles,
When the times are rough or bad.
Oh sure, I have my share of friends,
With whom to take a walk,
But never one I’d think of,
When I need someone to talk.
Now it’s not that I need pity,
Or want it for myself,
Cause most of this I’ve done alone,
By sitting on my shelf.
But I see how other peoples eyes,
Light up when someone’s near,
And it doesn’t take too much to see,
That someone’s very dear.
And as I sit and write,
Of the things I wish could be,
I soon begin to realize,
And my mind begins to see.
God loves me so very much,
That to save me from the end,
He gave His only Son to die,
And thus be my Best Friend.
July 22, 2004
The One?
Occasion: Obviously by the summer of 1987 Tina had entirely invaded my life and set up camp in my heart. Nevertheless, I struggled with the time worn question as to whether she could be "the one". Guess what? She was. And is.
Questions in my mind,
Circling all around,
Searching for the love,
That was almost never found.
Could this be the one,
That I thought I’d never find?
Could this be the one,
That would keep me for all time?
Could this be the one,
That would set my mind at rest?
Could this be the one,
That would be the very best?
Looking for an answer,
When my feet don’t touch the ground,
And it makes me start to wonder,
If it’s love that I have found.
This just might be the one,
That I thought I’d never find,
This might be the one,
That will keep me for all time.
This might be the one,
That will set my mind at rest,
This might be the one,
That will be the very best.
Questions in my mind,
Circling all around,
Searching for the love,
That was almost never found.
Could this be the one,
That I thought I’d never find?
Could this be the one,
That would keep me for all time?
Could this be the one,
That would set my mind at rest?
Could this be the one,
That would be the very best?
Looking for an answer,
When my feet don’t touch the ground,
And it makes me start to wonder,
If it’s love that I have found.
This just might be the one,
That I thought I’d never find,
This might be the one,
That will keep me for all time.
This might be the one,
That will set my mind at rest,
This might be the one,
That will be the very best.
May 07, 2004
Thanks
Occasion: Mothers Day, 1997. I was just finishing up seminary and wanted to share some things with my mom. Not a poem, really, but quasi poetic, so I share it here.
In an email to my mom I wrote...
Hi Mom, it was great talking with you last night. After we got off the phone I started thinking that you have been a really big help to me through all my years of school and I just wanted to say, “Thanks.” There were so many letters and papers that would not have been done half as well without your help. In fact, there are a lot of things that I don’t think I’ve ever taken time to thank you for.
Thanks for taking me to church.
Thanks for letting me skin my knees, et al.
Thanks for letting me climb.
Thanks for brushing my teeth.
Thanks for changing my diapers.
Thanks for loving my wife.
Thanks for loving my dad
Thanks for my brothers and my sister.
Thanks for making me go to school.
Thanks for your prayers.
Thanks for making me something to eat 3 times a day.
Thanks for keeping our house clean.
Thanks for teaching me to iron my clothes.
Thanks for helping me love books.
Thanks for not doing my homework for me.
Thanks for loving my boys.
Thanks for spanking me.
Thanks for helping me choose the right friends.
Thanks for making me do chores.
Thanks for giving me time to play.
Thanks for teaching me to enjoy life, even when I’m busy.
Thanks for doing my laundry.
Thanks for combing my hair.
Thanks for making me a connoisseur of fine coffees.
Thanks for not allowing me to settle for mediocrity.
Thanks for giving us a home to live in, and a house.
Thanks for sacrificing your stuff for me.
Thanks for helping me to wonder at my mundane world.
Thanks for being my girlfriend when no one else would.
Thanks for everything.
Thanks for being my mom.
I love you.
Happy Mother’s Day.
In an email to my mom I wrote...
Hi Mom, it was great talking with you last night. After we got off the phone I started thinking that you have been a really big help to me through all my years of school and I just wanted to say, “Thanks.” There were so many letters and papers that would not have been done half as well without your help. In fact, there are a lot of things that I don’t think I’ve ever taken time to thank you for.
Thanks for taking me to church.
Thanks for letting me skin my knees, et al.
Thanks for letting me climb.
Thanks for brushing my teeth.
Thanks for changing my diapers.
Thanks for loving my wife.
Thanks for loving my dad
Thanks for my brothers and my sister.
Thanks for making me go to school.
Thanks for your prayers.
Thanks for making me something to eat 3 times a day.
Thanks for keeping our house clean.
Thanks for teaching me to iron my clothes.
Thanks for helping me love books.
Thanks for not doing my homework for me.
Thanks for loving my boys.
Thanks for spanking me.
Thanks for helping me choose the right friends.
Thanks for making me do chores.
Thanks for giving me time to play.
Thanks for teaching me to enjoy life, even when I’m busy.
Thanks for doing my laundry.
Thanks for combing my hair.
Thanks for making me a connoisseur of fine coffees.
Thanks for not allowing me to settle for mediocrity.
Thanks for giving us a home to live in, and a house.
Thanks for sacrificing your stuff for me.
Thanks for helping me to wonder at my mundane world.
Thanks for being my girlfriend when no one else would.
Thanks for everything.
Thanks for being my mom.
I love you.
Happy Mother’s Day.
April 27, 2004
Gather 'Round
Occasion: The death of Washington Preston Young...my grandpa, my namesake, and my hero, 1988.
At supper time and holidays,
Occasions of all kinds,
We gathered at our Grandpa’s house,
With happy hearts and minds.
Some sat beside the fire,
While others sat in chairs,
But all enjoyed each gathering,
Where we had no wants or cares.
We gathered ‘round the Bible,
To hear each wondrous story,
That Grandpa’s shaking voice would read,
While his spirit glowed with glory.
We gathered ‘round the pictures,
Of the clan in times gone past,
And smiles lit up every face,
While all day long we laughed.
Then we gathered round the mem’ries,
As he laid there in his bed,
And remembered how he’d shaped us,
And all the words he’d said.
Now we gather in our sorrow,
As we say our last fare-well,
To the greatest Grandpa ever made,
Who meant too much to tell.
And someday we will see him,
When through life we have trod,
And we’ll hug and kiss him once again,
Gathering ‘round the throne of God.
At supper time and holidays,
Occasions of all kinds,
We gathered at our Grandpa’s house,
With happy hearts and minds.
Some sat beside the fire,
While others sat in chairs,
But all enjoyed each gathering,
Where we had no wants or cares.
We gathered ‘round the Bible,
To hear each wondrous story,
That Grandpa’s shaking voice would read,
While his spirit glowed with glory.
We gathered ‘round the pictures,
Of the clan in times gone past,
And smiles lit up every face,
While all day long we laughed.
Then we gathered round the mem’ries,
As he laid there in his bed,
And remembered how he’d shaped us,
And all the words he’d said.
Now we gather in our sorrow,
As we say our last fare-well,
To the greatest Grandpa ever made,
Who meant too much to tell.
And someday we will see him,
When through life we have trod,
And we’ll hug and kiss him once again,
Gathering ‘round the throne of God.
April 19, 2004
The Color of Easter
Occasion: Easter Sunday, 1987, Basic Training, Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri. Of all the days of the year, I was assigned KP on Easter Sunday. I stood washing some very grimy pots and pans, getting prune hands in a big way, and glancing out the window every once in a while. If memory serves, the sunrise was entirely beautiful.
While standing in the twilight,
Early Easter morn,
I thought about the life of Christ,
And the colors that He's worn.
I wish I could have been there,
To see that star shine bright,
And to bow before that manger,
And that little face of WHITE.
I would have been a wise man,
Coming from afar,
Searching for that dazzling life,
Following His star.
And then I think about His life,
And His ministry so bold,
And how despite the hard times,
He shone like purest GOLD.
I would have been a follower,
And seen His love shine through,
To every sinner everywhere,
In shades of ROYAL BLUE.
I think if I'd have been there,
To see His shattered back,
I would have cried forever,
On that gloomy day of BLACK.
I would have been a mourner,
Had I seen His body dead,
And the water flowing from that cross,
Mixed with SCARLET RED.
But by far his resurrection,
Was the fairest color yet,,
It gave us all the chance to call,
On Him when ere we fret
That oh so glorious color,
Is one that none has seen,
But one that none can do without,
And on which all must lean.
I thank you, dear Lord Jesus,
For your colors pure and bright,
And the color, God, of Easter,
Which has saved me from the night.
While standing in the twilight,
Early Easter morn,
I thought about the life of Christ,
And the colors that He's worn.
I wish I could have been there,
To see that star shine bright,
And to bow before that manger,
And that little face of WHITE.
I would have been a wise man,
Coming from afar,
Searching for that dazzling life,
Following His star.
And then I think about His life,
And His ministry so bold,
And how despite the hard times,
He shone like purest GOLD.
I would have been a follower,
And seen His love shine through,
To every sinner everywhere,
In shades of ROYAL BLUE.
I think if I'd have been there,
To see His shattered back,
I would have cried forever,
On that gloomy day of BLACK.
I would have been a mourner,
Had I seen His body dead,
And the water flowing from that cross,
Mixed with SCARLET RED.
But by far his resurrection,
Was the fairest color yet,,
It gave us all the chance to call,
On Him when ere we fret
That oh so glorious color,
Is one that none has seen,
But one that none can do without,
And on which all must lean.
I thank you, dear Lord Jesus,
For your colors pure and bright,
And the color, God, of Easter,
Which has saved me from the night.
April 11, 2004
Wishes
Occasion: This is one of those silly love poems from the heart of a love sick boy. I wrote it in 1985 and I have absolutely no idea which of my many crushes prompted it.
If I could have three wishes,
This is what they’d be,
First I’d be next to the shore,
With you walking next to me.
Next we would be in a far away place,
Where nobody else could find us,
Third we’d be living on Easy Street,
With our troubles and cares all behind us.
Well maybe Easy Street doesn’t exist,
And we’ll always have troubles to face,
And I kind of like having people around,
And this ain’t such a terrible place,
And just cause we live quite away from the shore,
Doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to see,
Cause no matter where or how near or how far,
I’d still like you walking with me.
If I could have three wishes,
This is what they’d be,
First I’d be next to the shore,
With you walking next to me.
Next we would be in a far away place,
Where nobody else could find us,
Third we’d be living on Easy Street,
With our troubles and cares all behind us.
Well maybe Easy Street doesn’t exist,
And we’ll always have troubles to face,
And I kind of like having people around,
And this ain’t such a terrible place,
And just cause we live quite away from the shore,
Doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to see,
Cause no matter where or how near or how far,
I’d still like you walking with me.
April 09, 2004
That's When
Occasion: During Basic Training at Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri I wound up in the post hospital with blood poisoning. I wrote this poem from my hospital room on April 9, 1987 upon hearing of my oldest brothers separation from his wife.
When my troubles all surround me,
Like mountains on all sides,
When I wallow in the mire of despair,
When I cannot see the bottom,
Of the pit of discontent,
When it seems that life is harsh and so unfair.
When I have no where to turn to,
When my path has met its end,
When I can't go on and all my strength is drained,
When pain has racked my body,
When my mind is fading fast,
When everything within my life is strained.
That's when I turn to you oh Lord,
That's when you turn to me,
That's when I focus on your shining face,
That's when I know you're there dear God,
That's when I lean on you,
That's when I feel your sweet, amazing grace.
When your blessings all surround me,
Like mountains on all sides,
When I'm swimming in the sea of sweet relief,
When I cannot see the end,
Of the plains of perfect peace,
When my life is without sorrow, pain or grief.
When the road that leads to happiness,
Lies before me clear and true,
When I have the strength to go the extra mile,
When my body is alive and well,
When my mind's alert and strong,
When everything in life seems so worthwhile.
That's when I turn to you oh Lord,
That's when you turn to me,
That's when I focus on your shining face,
That's when I know you're there, dear God,
That's when I lean on you,
That's when I feel your sweet, amazing grace.
When my troubles all surround me,
Like mountains on all sides,
When I wallow in the mire of despair,
When I cannot see the bottom,
Of the pit of discontent,
When it seems that life is harsh and so unfair.
When I have no where to turn to,
When my path has met its end,
When I can't go on and all my strength is drained,
When pain has racked my body,
When my mind is fading fast,
When everything within my life is strained.
That's when I turn to you oh Lord,
That's when you turn to me,
That's when I focus on your shining face,
That's when I know you're there dear God,
That's when I lean on you,
That's when I feel your sweet, amazing grace.
When your blessings all surround me,
Like mountains on all sides,
When I'm swimming in the sea of sweet relief,
When I cannot see the end,
Of the plains of perfect peace,
When my life is without sorrow, pain or grief.
When the road that leads to happiness,
Lies before me clear and true,
When I have the strength to go the extra mile,
When my body is alive and well,
When my mind's alert and strong,
When everything in life seems so worthwhile.
That's when I turn to you oh Lord,
That's when you turn to me,
That's when I focus on your shining face,
That's when I know you're there, dear God,
That's when I lean on you,
That's when I feel your sweet, amazing grace.
April 03, 2004
Untitled
Occasion: I wrote this during my first semester of Bible School in 1986. More than likely I was racked with guilt about something I thought I should feel guilty for that probably wasn't all that big a deal. Nevertheless, I like it for it's old fashioned hymn like quality.
Don’t let my heart be hardened,
Don’t let my soul be stone,
But compel me Lord to come to you,
And worship you alone.
Make my life like new, Oh Lord,
Please wash me white as snow,
So I can do what ere you want,
And go where ere you go.
Keep my life in constant check,
So I won’t stray from thee,
Open my ears so I can hear,
And my eyes so I can see.
Help me Lord, to see the pain,
Of others as they cry,
And show those people you’re the one,
Who makes our spirits fly.
Don’t let my heart be hardened,
Don’t let my soul be stone,
But compel me Lord to come to you,
And worship you alone.
Make my life like new, Oh Lord,
Please wash me white as snow,
So I can do what ere you want,
And go where ere you go.
Keep my life in constant check,
So I won’t stray from thee,
Open my ears so I can hear,
And my eyes so I can see.
Help me Lord, to see the pain,
Of others as they cry,
And show those people you’re the one,
Who makes our spirits fly.
March 15, 2004
We the People
Occasion: I wrote this after a Company meeting at the Presidio of San Francisco where everyone was complaining about a whole bunch of very insignificant issues. 1988.
We the people, full of pride,
Want life on the "gimme" side.
We've got it good from day to day,
And want things going our own way.
We the people of discontent,
Dissatisfied and impotent,
Care not what goes up or down,
As long as what we want is found.
We the people, the human race,
Want it at a quicker pace,
We'll climb the ladder and never stop,
And step on heads to reach the top.
We the people of intellect,
Live life without retrospect,
We look on others with disdain,
And see to live just to complain.
Who are we to cast a "no!”
When we are asked to rise and go?
When in the past the great would give,
Their blood so we could freely live.
What of those who went to fight,
Without complaining, "It's not right!"
And fought so hard to save our flag,
Yet came home in a plastic bag?
Forget about some silly thing,
And help the bell of freedom ring.
Preserve liberty lest she suffocates,
We the people of the United States.
We the people, full of pride,
Want life on the "gimme" side.
We've got it good from day to day,
And want things going our own way.
We the people of discontent,
Dissatisfied and impotent,
Care not what goes up or down,
As long as what we want is found.
We the people, the human race,
Want it at a quicker pace,
We'll climb the ladder and never stop,
And step on heads to reach the top.
We the people of intellect,
Live life without retrospect,
We look on others with disdain,
And see to live just to complain.
Who are we to cast a "no!”
When we are asked to rise and go?
When in the past the great would give,
Their blood so we could freely live.
What of those who went to fight,
Without complaining, "It's not right!"
And fought so hard to save our flag,
Yet came home in a plastic bag?
Forget about some silly thing,
And help the bell of freedom ring.
Preserve liberty lest she suffocates,
We the people of the United States.
February 28, 2004
Hand in Hand
Occasion: Of course, Tina, 1988, Presidio of San Francisco. I was really beginning to ponder the possibility that I might actually marry this person. Woman, thy name is "Vixen".
Part 1
I was walking by myself,
Down a moonlit, misty beach,
And it seemed like you were further,
Than the stars were out of reach.
So I stood there in the night,
With my eyes out on the sea,
Hands buried in my pockets,
With the fog surrounding me.
Then a thought came to my mind,
As I stood ‘tween sea and land,
That naught else could I want,
If I could only hold your hand.
Part 2
I was sitting in the sunlight,
With its warmth upon my face,
Just looking at the trees and grass,
And the beauty of that place.
And there you stood beside me,
With the sunshine on your hair,
While your azure eyes were blazing,
So I couldn’t help but stare.
Then a thought came to my mind,
That without you I can’t stand,
And my heart and spirit lept for joy,
When I felt you hold my hand.
Part 1
I was walking by myself,
Down a moonlit, misty beach,
And it seemed like you were further,
Than the stars were out of reach.
So I stood there in the night,
With my eyes out on the sea,
Hands buried in my pockets,
With the fog surrounding me.
Then a thought came to my mind,
As I stood ‘tween sea and land,
That naught else could I want,
If I could only hold your hand.
Part 2
I was sitting in the sunlight,
With its warmth upon my face,
Just looking at the trees and grass,
And the beauty of that place.
And there you stood beside me,
With the sunshine on your hair,
While your azure eyes were blazing,
So I couldn’t help but stare.
Then a thought came to my mind,
That without you I can’t stand,
And my heart and spirit lept for joy,
When I felt you hold my hand.
January 09, 2004
The Princess and the Pauper
Occasion: I wrote this for my brother and his bride. It was read at their wedding rehersal dinner, I think. 1987.
Let me tell a story,
Of a youthful princess fair,
With eyes that shone like stars so bright,
And silken, glowing hair.
She lived inside a mansion,
In a tower of despair,
A tower she called loneliness,
Cause no one else was there.
She longed to have her hero,
Come and rescue her from there,
But he was doing other things,
And didn’t really care.
He was also lonely,
But he just could not sit still,
So he began to do the thing,
That lonely young men will.
He knew about the princess,
And her legendary grace,
But he never thought a castle,
Would be his dwelling place.
He looked upon himself,
As a thing on which men trod,
But never thought that he’d be touched,
By the mighty hand of God.
Then God reached down and touched,
His eyes so he could see,
That he could ask for anything,
And in Christ’s name it would be.
So without hesitation,
He asked that God would give,
The princess fair to be his wife,
And in happiness to live.
When he found her in her tower,
After searching far and wide,
He broke the walls of loneliness,
Around his future bride.
Then they fell upon their knees,
And prayed to God above,
That He would bless their union,
With a never-ending love.
God heard the cries of both of them,
And granted every wish,
And He’ll be smiling evermore,
On the lives of Craig and Trish.
Let me tell a story,
Of a youthful princess fair,
With eyes that shone like stars so bright,
And silken, glowing hair.
She lived inside a mansion,
In a tower of despair,
A tower she called loneliness,
Cause no one else was there.
She longed to have her hero,
Come and rescue her from there,
But he was doing other things,
And didn’t really care.
He was also lonely,
But he just could not sit still,
So he began to do the thing,
That lonely young men will.
He knew about the princess,
And her legendary grace,
But he never thought a castle,
Would be his dwelling place.
He looked upon himself,
As a thing on which men trod,
But never thought that he’d be touched,
By the mighty hand of God.
Then God reached down and touched,
His eyes so he could see,
That he could ask for anything,
And in Christ’s name it would be.
So without hesitation,
He asked that God would give,
The princess fair to be his wife,
And in happiness to live.
When he found her in her tower,
After searching far and wide,
He broke the walls of loneliness,
Around his future bride.
Then they fell upon their knees,
And prayed to God above,
That He would bless their union,
With a never-ending love.
God heard the cries of both of them,
And granted every wish,
And He’ll be smiling evermore,
On the lives of Craig and Trish.
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