A Prayer For The Homeless Man
I pray that someday you
Get enough food to eat
And you no longer
Have to live on the streets
I pray your days
May get brighter
And the heavy burdens
You carry,become lighter
I pray you find hope
It must feel you are
At the end of your rope
I pray as the months
Start to become cold
You find a warm and
Safe place to go
I pray someday that
More people in this world
Will lend you a helping hand
And not look down
On you, because you are
A homeless man
© Copyright 2003 Andrianna Holt
Child Of Love
Go to sleep my little friend
You've had a busy day
Your laughter and your happy face
Made a path along the way
A permanent path straight to my heart
A wet kiss on my cheek
So now I tip toe to your room
To take another peek.
So much fun we had today
Toys scattered all around
Our home is full of laughter
Not a sad face can be found.
You snuggle with your teddy
A friend so soft and warm
That stays with you both night and day
That keeps you safe and calm.
So rest my child, my life, my love
Tomorrow will soon descend
And we can start all over
Our game of lets pretend.
A Silence Buds Not
Do you think it’s a very cold night,
That at present life’s not kind,
Chilly as a winter’s day snowing,
But steam’s bubbling in your mind
A silence does not give peace of mind,
It isn’t part of some’s dreams,
Yet it is the way of so many,
Just the maddening hush screams.
A silence buds not nor will it crown,
It’s the shearing of flowers,
There’ll be no bloom to nourish or grow,
It’s nothings binding for hours.
With such empty nonsense, there’s no We,
A loved one’s thoughts can’t be warm,
And a silence will not bud, just seethe,
It’s the still before the storm.
Truly share the sweetness of your love,
Yield to each other and speak,
Live love and sow buds that bloom and crown,
Love breathes life’s seeds that will peak.
Jesus, my crucified Saviour
Bleeding figure on the Cross
In my mind I lift You into my arms
Bathe and dress Your wounds
Gently hold and hug You, my God
The Cross has always held me
Suspended me ... as I gaze longingly
My life a tiny share in Your suffering
My inner faith life not of this world
The depth within me - only God can touch
Your Mother Mary stood weeping
At the foot of Your Cross of death
I can only stand in awe of You from a distance
Suffering and pain I identify readily
Physical ... spiritual... and emotional
Through pain there is the dawn
Of possibilities of new life and growth
And though the pain is not taken away
Graces are given to carry our cross
To journey in faith with openness to God who made us
A Dinner of Thanksgiving
She was just a bent old lady
Her hair was full of gray
I was just a child of seven
Who had stepped outside to play
Her dress was worn and tattered
She looked so frail and thin
But her eyes were warm and caring
And she kindly asked me in.
As the morning hours were fading
I recall her gentle plea
“Please stay a little longer
And enjoy a meal with me.”
I had no way of knowing
That her shelves were nearly bare
But it didn’t really matter
She was glad to have me there.
The meal was small and meager
But I felt like I’d been blessed
When I sat there at the table
And she served to me her best.
In honor of her memory
This moment I will seize
To be thankful for the bounty
When we shared a bowl of peas.
I am humbled by her spirit
Unblemished through the years
She’s smiling down from heaven
As I wipe away these tears.
For she, too, still remembers
That warm delightful day
When a little girl of seven
Had stepped outside to play.
Marilyn Ferguson ©2002
The moon dipped low
Just above the trees.
The night air chilled
By a northerly breeze.
I found myself walking
Along Fisherman's Bay,
As a bright harvest moon
Lighted my way.
An evening walk
Sometimes eased my stress.
Tonight my heart
Was under deep duress.
Could take away my life
Bring lonliness and grief
To my dear, sweet wife.
The wharf was deserted,
I dropped down to pray.
''Heavenly Father, please
Show me the way.''
''Inside myself, please
Make calm and still,
May all things take place
According to your will.''
''All that concerns me,
I hand over to you.
In your infinite wisdom
You know what to do.''
I rose to my feet,
Headed home in the night.
Knowing that everything
Would be alright.
Once a long, long time ago,
There was a kid named Fred,
And as he played with his best friend,
These words were often said.
Lets play a game of basketball,
Or maybe just some catch,
Or maybe they can teach the dog,
To play a game of fetch.
And then some other friends came by,
To play and have some fun,
And when they chose which team to join
The game had then begun
Then with the score remaining close,
A bet they thought to make,
To add a little spice and fun,
And valuables at stake.
They each thought they would win for sure,
And so the stakes were high,
Then played the very best they could;
There wouldn't be a tie.
One captain bet his favorite shoes,
The blue ones that he wore,
The other bet his pocket watch,
He bought new at the store.
They played and played and gave their all,
But then the rain began,
And so the game just had to end,
So home the players ran.
But Fred, the boy that bet his shoes,
Had lost that rainy day,
And as he sat all wet and cold,
His friend had this to say.
You keep your shoes, we'll play again,
But if we bet again,
I might just take those shoes next time,
Then he began to grin.
And so they left that rainy day,
While still the best of friends,
And so the friendship carries on,
But here the poem ends.
When Leaves Begin to Fall
When autumn leaves begin to fall,
Once more I feel the call,
To that lonely little graveyard on the hill.
So, I'll go there once again,
Out of respect for my kin.
As long as I live I surely will.
Time has made a change in me.
I'm not as young as I used to be.
Soon I too shall rest beneath the cold, cold, ground.
Ah, but I shall not sleep for aye!
I shall rise on Resurrection Day,
When I hear Gabriel's golden trumpet sound!
In silence I shall lie still,
In that little graveyard on the hill.
But, only my body will be there!
For when they place me in the sod,
My soul shall fly to God,
Where I shall dwell forever in His care!
A pilgrim on earth I shall be,
Ransomed and free,
Seeking a much better land!
I've got but one goal in mind.
One glorious day I shall find,
That country built by God's own hand
Robert F. Dotson © 2003
Playing: Piano 2
by Marie S. Stillman
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