~Page 39~


A Place Called ‘Solitude’

Tucked away quite privately,
Among the stately pines,
Stands a Chapel near a lake,
An awe-inspired design.

Seeking restful solitude,
From cares and trials of life.
O' such joy and comfort found,
Relief from toil and strife.

Reflections in the waters deep,
Dance across each wave.
Stained-glass windows cast their glow,
Of rainbow jewels inlaid.
Butterflies rest from flight,
On flowers red and yellow.
Watching feedings, of nectar sweet,
Leaves all senses mellowed.

Eagles soar on wings outspread,
Hunters of the sky,
Seeking food for their young;
On skills, they must rely.

Once inside the chapel doors,
Praise upon my lips,
A grateful heart lifts songs to God,
For all His splendid gifts.

A place called ‘Solitude,’ indeed,
No other name could be.
For by His Grace, He brought me here;
All fears He has relieved.

© 2003 Marie Williams

Never Give Up a Dream

When I first met you I knew right away,
that you were the one for me. 
But God stepped in and said. 
''This is not the time you see''.

Even though we live a few miles apart
and I can't see you for awhile,
I want you to know you are in my heart,
just thinking of you makes me smile.

And as the years go by,
I think of you day and night,
I pray God will put us together again,
and say'' Now the time is right''.

Eve Kirschbaum

''Let Love Be the House That God Built''

God built His house on a solid foundation of freedom
and love.
The Father supplied the Son with His needs
from up above.

All the lost and lonely need a safe haven
and a happy home.
Love is the means, no matter where they
may roam.

Some have no place to rest their weary heads
They forget to go to the Master and be
spiritually fed.

Love is the key that opens any door
The door to eternal life is forever more.

Beyond the clouds there's a silver lining
Beyond the clouds is rest for mans soul.

Never dig yourself into a dark hole,
For love abounds just beyond the clouds.

My new home bares no reminder of sad or
ungodly things.
Jesus built this home and love is what
He brings.

© Nancy Hoback 

The Duel

Man builds and toils and till the soils
to have the greenest lawn.
To fill this need he sows the seed,
then waters night 'til dawn
then pampers it and tampers it,
He thatches and he mows.
He aerates, anticipates the beauty that it grows.

But there are those whom bring forth woes,
they come to test man's will,
puts him on guard to rid the yard
of foes that he must deal

Now these are things that nature brings...
which knows no boundary lines;
the dreadful sights that man now fights,
the first, are dandelions!
they fill the air from everywhere
and settled way down deep,
then multiply before your eye...
in one humongous sweep.
You kneel and crawl to dig them all;
to clear the entire tract,
but all your pain has been in vain..
'cause they keep coming back!

The second one that's sure to come,
the worst pest of them all,
are sneaky squirrels with tails all curled,
whom dig from spring to fall.
Without regard they fill the yard
with everything they trimmed;
then test your mind with what you find,
a mess of holes and limbs!
They also steal the bird's main meal,
which is of course, their seed,
and cost goes high to meet supply
for all of them to feed

And number three, we cannot see,
are ground moles out of sight;
They build those mounds while making rounds
and burrow through the night!
They raise the crown of lawn around,
your hard work finds the drain,
unless solutions can be found,
there'll be no grass again.
There are some tips proclaimed as hits,
but not always proven firm,
is rid the ground of this ''worm hound''
by killing off the worm.
But when you spray, comes your dismay...
it's only grass you kill,
and this testy, messy mole or vole
still, will build his hill.
Some feed this ''bum'' with chewing gum...
to choke him to his death;
but all that does is what he loves,
just sweetens up his breath!

So, they intrude in multitude,
these three worst ''messketeers'',
the squirrel, in all his busy world,
The weed, and mole in theirs.

Now, mans awake with choice to make...
and that's to choose between;
to till and toil, to muck and moil,

©William E. Hardison 

Dawning Of A Day

Oh how beautiful it is to wake up to a crisp,
Breezy morning. Stepping from the motel
It’s a pleasure to see the American Flag
Waving softly above Denny’s Restaurant. 

Oh how great it is to be greeted
By a baby blue sky ever so clear,
Saturated with occasional
Angelic white powder puffs.
Listen to those friendly birds
Chirping their cheer in that nearby bush. 

Oh where is everyone.
The streets are so empty,
Only a lone white car creeps
Down the desolate thoroughfare. 

Oh my, we have company now.
A happy couple has entered the diner.
The hostess looks around,
Then seats them in a window booth. 

Oh how I’ve witnessed this scene
Over and over throughout our country:
In Salt Lake City, Denver, Fargo,
St Louis, Indianapolis, and Cincinnati. 

Oh how the early morning scene
Is the same in every part of our country
As the sun gingerly peaks over the horizon
Freedom abounds everywhere. 

© James M. Cannon

''Blank Page''

a blank page.
the promise of poetic reflection.
no rules..
no limitations..
no critiques..
totally personal..
does a writer use the blank page
to express his thoughts,
or does the blank page
use the writer
to uncover the hidden
and explore possibilities?
the writer reaps rewards,
accolades for his talent,
but without the
mystery and
of the blank page,
the writer is mute
unable to share
The blank page-
not the writer
is the true instrument of creativity..

©Sandra Freeman

Our Heavenly Father Cares!

God supplies sufficient grace,
For the problems we face,
On a daily basis!
In this dry and barren land,
Just one touch of His hand,
Is a much needed oasis!

While here on earth we trod,
We have an almighty God,
Who promised never to leave us alone!
If we will His Spirit heed,
We can bring our every need,
Confidently before His heavenly throne!

Oh, please tell me if you can,
How God could love fallen man,
Enough to send His Son to die.
'Tis a mystery I want to explore,
Once I reach Heaven's shore,
Yonder in the sweet by and by!

©Robert F. Dotson 


Just Whispers

Slowly we walked hand in hand
Not a word was said
Just whispers
Soft low whispers from the sand

No certain direction did we take
Many winding roads did we follow
Being lost was never a thought
Words would only be hollow
Not a word was said
Just Whispers
Soft low whispers from the sand

With our souls intertwined
We paid no mind to what was being said
Not a word would be heard
Just whispers
Soft low whispers from the sand

On our days final journey No words will be needed
For the seeds will be sown
Not a word will be heard
Just whispers
Soft low whispers from the sand

With our love standing strong for all to see
No goodbyes will be heard
Not even a single word
Just whispers
Soft low whispers from the sand

Billie Bazhaw




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Performed by 
Margi Harrell
Please feel free to visit her wonderful site right HERE.
This midi along with more wonderful compositions and/or performances are available at Ms. Harrell's site on CDs. If you wish to use her music on your personal web site you must contact Ms. Harrell.





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