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louis gander, 3 february 2013
A Wondrous Story
I'd love to be a poet - a real one, you know -
so I could write man's world off allowing God's to glow.
I'd write a wondrous story, that we could all take part
and live it in reality - each one with perfect heart.
I'd think outside my circle, with paper, ink and pen -
and think outside my flimsy box to live in peace again -
in gardens filled with blossoms - all colors full and bold -
that I could sweep my arms across and many flowers hold.
I'd jump inside my story with animals and birds,
living in His nature and camouflaged with words -
that whisper as the breezes in true harmonic cord,
that bring us lives so unsurpassed when living with our Lord.
I'd peer up to the mountains, at several waterfalls,
that rain grace down from Heaven where every angel calls -
to show to us a perfect world where He can overwhelm -
where man rejects but God perfects His great creation's realm.
I'd never hide inside my world, but fully would expect -
that men would treat each other with a solemn, deep respect -
that women dress with modesty and also could endow -
that girls learn to curtsy slow and boys would learn to bow.
I'd stroll inside my poem free from envy, sin and hate -
and walk beside still waters where 'the way' is always straight.
And I shall keep on writing true for many, many years -
until I see no longer through my sad and yearning tears.
I'd love to be a poet - a real one, you know -
so I could write man's world off allowing God's to glow.
I'd write a wondrous story, that we could all take part
and live it in reality - each one with perfect heart.
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 7 january 2013
Life Was...
(A true story poem from the summer of 1934
as told to me by my mother, Ruth)
I hope you enjoy "Life Was..."
Worked like a mule, when not in school, below the scorching sun.
I couldn't treat my calloused feet. My work was never done.
Near idle plows, I milked the cows. A barn, we didn't have -
but under stars, the land was ours and where our cows would calve.
With weary hands I filled the cans. Their tails they would flick -
and sting my eyes while swatting flies. Then bucket, they would kick.
Two hours flat, was done with that, from my familiar stool.
The cows backed off their drinking trough where I put milk to cool.
The morning after, I worked faster, hitching up the team.
One called Nancy, the other Topsy - hauled our milk and cream.
Those two old nags had swayback sags. They were a stubborn lot.
I must confess, they lacked finesse. Race horses, they were not.
The wagon bad, but all we had, so up my brother climbed.
The little whelp was not much help, but "Giddy-up!" he chimed.
As we would sing, the cans would cling the four miles into town.
Population: Twenty seven - but that's if we're around.
With morning sun, that work was done - but now, another day.
We'd fertilize while bread would rise and maybe bail some hay.
I always worked - and never shirked - my duties. I was nine.
But God gave strength to me at length - and life was truly fine.
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 8 december 2012
Nativity Christmas
Does someone call as snowflakes fall
upon my window sill?
Then comes a sleigh. The horses neigh,
in spirit of goodwill.
There's not a breeze. My mind's at ease.
They bid me, "Come" they say.
So I step out. There is no doubt -
that this is Christmas Day.
I hop aboard and ride on toward -
a town that's splashed with sights.
I look ahead at green and red.
I love those Christmas lights.
The air is crisp. I see a wisp -
on front of horses' mane -
that bounced with pep at every step.
The horses did not wane.
Heard sleigh bells chime through all that time
until I got to town -
And hooves had clopped until they stopped
as I arrived downtown.
Nativity... I smiled with glee -
heard carols in the air.
The shepherds spied. The three Magi
saw Jesus sleeping there.
A camel knelt. In joy they dwelt -
in cushioned stable hay -
A scene on earth of virgin birth -
where one man came to pray.
A poor old man, all wrinkled tan,
was kneeling on the ground.
His hair was messed but he was blessed
as snow fell all around.
Some kids walked through, in contrast to
his contrite position.
And then they felled the cane he held -
reckless recognition.
God woos each one who seek His Son -
but they paid no attention.
I heard them joke each time they spoke
within their own dimension.
He reached in vain to get his cane.
His countenance was grim -
then heard him say, "wife passed away."
as I gave it to him.
Through eyelids tight, they drew my sight -
I saw more tears come through.
It touched my heart, tore me apart -
so I knelt right there too.
Snowflakes falling, Jesus calling -
calling from above.
Can you live it? Christmas spirit -
wooing all, in love...
©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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Mark 2:14 (KJV)
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
louis gander, 24 october 2012
ONLY One Journey
I walked through the valley of the shadow of death.
I turned each direction. The sight took my breath.
The way through that valley was ever so wide,
and sin was so rampant that many had died.
Lust, lies and deception, like grains of the sand,
the bodies and souls - they covered the land.
Stepped over, I did - strewn here and there,
for they were all lost, in death, unaware.
It seemed so atrocious. I felt so inept -
but I journeyed along as I carefully stepped.
So many had fallen far short of their goals,
and the valley was covered with forgotten souls.
Now so many limbs and bodies were crossed,
that each proved our sin has a very high cost.
In every direction, I trembled in fear,
yet some tracks pressed on, so vividly clear.
So many had prospered, so many were great,
but they had all worked to a merciless fate.
I stepped over more - the young and the old.
Each day some would fall and then would turn cold.
It seemed, was no end - as a fight in a sewer -
then noticed the footprints, were fewer and fewer.
I pressed on ahead through trials and all,
I fought the good fight and then heard His last call.
The footsteps had dwindled to just a small few.
Then leaving the valley, there were only two.
Now one set of footprints went straight on ahead,
while the other one stopped, and turned back instead.
But through the dim darkness, a light I could see.
It fell as a halo - and then covered me...
My armor still glimmered as if still brand new,
despite all the work that He asked me to do.
There up from the valley and over the crest,
I saw that old cross and knew I was blessed.
Some friends greeted me. There were but a few.
Then I laid down my cross, as they had done too.
We're living here now, above valley and loss -
for we wore our armor and looked to the cross.
It's easy to know now, how we gathered here,
despite those one set of footprints, it's clear.
When He is in us, we are more than a sparrow -
we walk in His sandals, the straight and the narrow.
You have but one journey. He guides your steps now.
He'll show you the way and - He will show you how.
He knows that the valley of death will bring pain.
It'll run you in circles and drive you insane.
But wear your whole armor. Endure to the end -
for He is your Savior, Defender and Friend.
©2006 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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Psalm 23:4 (KJV)
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;
for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”
louis gander, 17 march 2013
This Old Scrap Of Burlap
This is a poem I wrote back in 2008 to noone in particular...
This big, bright world,
is like a drawer full of lace,
though I am but a leftover rag;
quite awkward, uneasy,
and so out of place.
Lace is chosen
by those with whom they connect.
and selecting their own special piece;
they want their lives
to be so perfect.
Then stew they will
when things go terribly wrong.
Their lace gets soiled, stained and tattered.
For this worlds special lace
doesn’t last too long.
They’re all sewn up,
still seeking what cannot mend....
But this leftover rag- this old scrap of burlap;
though nowhere near perfect,
is still your special friend.
©2008 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 12 january 2013
Reminiscing
Something way down deep inside
my lost and lonely soul -
had eaten me until I died
of all my self-control.
Someone special lent a hand
that I did not deserve -
and touched an inner fragile strand -
a close and tender nerve.
I knew not what to make of it -
that kind, unselfish act.
My knees got weak and I admit -
was thankful. That's a fact.
And then I sensed a flicker as
a flame on candle waves -
and saw their bumper sticker
that read, "Smile! Jesus Saves!"
Then something in my reddened eyes
had made it hard to see -
when choked, I was, and all my cries
came pouring out of me.
So stunned in awe, I stopped to think
of all I'm guilty of.
I know my sin - once set in ink -
was wiped away with love.
Now, reminiscing has a way
to judge my many years -
so hymns in church on Sunday's now -
can well my eyes with tears.
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 19 march 2013
Horizon's Path
When all the richest people rest in graveyards,
before their grand possessions rot and rust,
I turn my eyes and humbly look to Heaven,
for Jesus is the only one I trust.
When all the famous celeb's rest in graveyards,
and all their loyal fans find other 'stars',
I turn my eyes and humbly look to Heaven,
for Jesus is my friend who holds the scars.
When all the greatest rulers rest in graveyards,
down underneath the oxen and the plows,
I turn my eyes and humbly look to Heaven,
for I have life which only God allows.
When all the folks around me fall to pieces,
solutions sought - but they can find them not -
I shake my head in wonder with the Heavens,
for I have Him whom they have all forgot.
When all the world can wonder why I'm happy -
and simple minds can't seem to understand,
I simply trust God's promises in Heaven,
continuing to hold His loving hand.
When friends and family wonder why I journey,
to places in my thoughts they'll never know -
horizons of my faith still kiss the Heavens,
as that's the path I'm traveling below.
©2010 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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Job 23 (NASB)
10 "But He knows the way I take;
When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.
11"My foot has held fast to His path;
I have kept His way and not turned aside.
12"I have not departed from the command of His lips;
I have treasured the words of His mouth more than my necessary food.
louis gander, 14 october 2012
Washed Away
Do our hearts ache when swift waves break
and wash up sandy beach
or do the waves sing, "Jesus saves!"
when up on beaches reach?
Does 'make life fair' entwine our prayers
though time cannot reverse?
His divine force would change our course
for better - not for worse.
Though freewill stalk will alter walk.
We traverse where we will.
Through other lands or beach head sands,
we'll travel on until -
our final stride meets where we died
and breath no longer flows -
and final prints expose all hints.
...for that is how life goes.
As I looked back, my lifelong track -
I was so much dismayed.
I persevered - but disappeared
those tracks in life I made.
My earthly talk was not all walk.
Again I look around.
With seashore grim, so stunned I am.
My prints cannot be found.
All lost one day and washed away -
a life that lived in haste -
and purpose quashed when prints were washed,
away - ohhh, what a waste!
I don't succumb, but ponder some -
now when I bow to pray.
And so it was, His waves, because
He washed those sins away!
Divine, His grace, hung in my place
when Jesus died instead.
With sins forgiv'n and bound for Heav'n
my earthly work is dead.
Let heart not ache, when waves should break
to smooth out wicked beach -
but follow yon His footsteps on,
'til destination reach...
©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 12 february 2013
Against Evening Skies
Before we both met - so lonely I was.
I cannot explain it - but maybe because....
Two rabbits were playing in grasses, lush green -
enjoying the sunshine - a sight so serene.
Two love birds were playing and choosing a path -
still making life’s choices, while taking a bath.
Two flowers were growing, though so intertwined -
but not at all trapped and supporting in kind.
Two ducks in the water - a hen and a drake,
were always together - on their private lake.
One day very lonely - the sun would soon set -
but then I saw something I’d never forget.
There, two lovers kissing, embraced on the shore.
It burned in my memory – as never before.
I peered in the water but all I could see -
was my lone reflection - a lonely 'one' (me).
The sun set behind them, the outline of two –
but I kept on dreaming - of being with you.
And now that I met you – I’m happy because,
I remember how lonely - how lonely I was....
I’m glad that I waited – great patience a plus –
My memory’s now real when others see us....
as lovers on beaches with magical charms -
we’re wrapped in caresses, in each others’ arms.
None will know passion - or ever forget -
as we are embracing in our silhouette -
still kissing each other as passions arise -
in silhouette fashion - against evening skies.
©2010 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
louis gander, 1 november 2012
Christmas Eyes
My mama was a loving spouse who did her very best
to keep my father happy and she never did protest -
to what my father said and did to add to her abuse -
and all the things I saw him do. There wasn't an excuse.
My father was a spiteful man who argued quite a lot
and it had hurt my mama so that she became distraught..
I pulled weeds from her garden and I chopped a lot of wood
that heated up our cooking stove. I helped her all I could.
As we prepared for Christmas Day and all that was in store,
enjoyed, I did, those special times with mama even more.
Yes, more than any other month could ever even boast,
December was that special time that we enjoyed the most.
One cold December morning came when father went to find,
a full and perfect Norway Spruce. (I tagged along behind).
The woods were vast. There must have been a million evergreen
which held a billion snowflakes out in sparkling winter scene.
Reflective sunlight shimmered bright which made my eyelids squint
so I looked down and found that all my footsteps made a print -
in snow so fun to walk through as it crushed beneath my feet -
(although at times the drifts caused me to detour or retreat).
That made me pause and catch a glimpse of smoke from fireplace
meandering above our house so wanting to embrace -
a family fraught with nervous fears and silent times 'to boot' -
as father, with his ego big, had muffled mama mute.
But fragrance from the many pine had found my little nose -
and tiny snowflakes glistened while they settled on our clothes -
reminding me that all is well despite my parents quarrels
and I could choose a better life with character and morals -
to live a life, not crooked, as we trekked from place to place -
to find that perfect tree to decorate our living space.
We trampled each direction and at last he gave a sigh.
We finally found that perfect spruce - my father, saw and I.
The night was strangely silent as we sat around our tree
when mom's love and compassion had been proven true to me.
Out through the corner of my eye, I viewed dejected years -
and though she tried to hold them back, I saw those lonely tears.
Throughout that night the light escaped reflecting off the floor,
and whispered prayers were carried out from underneath her door...
But light no longer flickers from the candles flaming tips
and silenced are the verses that I heard from mama's lips.
I know that father long regrets his former wicked ways -
but through my tears, I won't forget those special Christmas days
with scenes of the Nativity and tree exactly right,
with memories of mama and the truth that came to light.
Yes, this was many years ago that father and I spied -
then cut that perfect Norway Spruce the day before she died.
I heard his weeping through the door - such deep, repentant cries -
but now he sees as mama did... through humble Christmas eyes.
©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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Romans 10 (NASB)
8 But what does it say? “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart”
—that is, the word of faith which we are preaching,
9 that if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord,
and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved;
10 for with the heart a person believes, resulting in righteousness,
and with the mouth he confesses, resulting in salvation.
11 For the Scripture says, “Whoever believes in Him will not be disappointed.”
12 For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek;
for the same Lord is Lord of all, abounding in riches for all who call on Him;
13 for “Whoever will call on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
louis gander, 27 november 2012
AMERICA!
They're Patriots, they're fighting! But Lord, who understands?
Their gift to heirs was liberty, was fragile in their hands.
A liberty that's priceless and was paid with hero's blood,
but liberty that's fragile and as latent as a bud.
Some day the waves of grain will grow in nation gold and bright -
but now the revolution's fight is questioned whether right...
I see a sacrifice so great, from will that never bends,
I see the loss of families, their farms and closest friends.
I see that they were tested greatly under Washington -
and they were tested all the more in battle that was won.
Yes, tested with the seasons that brought hot and cold extremes,
and tested with great trials that had crushed the smallest dreams.
So many lost a limb or two. Some others met their grave,
but great were all the freedoms that to us they freely gave.
Now we'd enjoy these freedoms, if - we care to really own
and guard with every vote so that our freedoms could be sown -
to later generations that would seize the free baton -
to hold our fragile liberties so freedom carries on.
Years later, I saw clamoring and stumbling unsure -
and one by one God-given rights were trampled here under -
the feet of every voter who demanded more and more -
the money clear from Washington 'til all of us were poor.
They argued, as in protest and they fervently appealed,
to eat up necessary seed for next year's harvest yield -
and voted for more cretins who would place their final bet
on wasteful obligations that would pile up more debt.
Naive we are and so deceived with all the 'pc' spin,
"He'll give you lots more money if you'll simply vote for him!"
They buy our selfish, greedy votes and bribe us all until
elected, they're securely fixed right there up on 'The Hill'.
So arrogant, those cretins are, that they need never hide.
They know their office is secure and wear this thing called 'pride'.
They promise us a silver moon (that's moldy old swiss cheese -
with holes in thick promises that shift there with the breeze).
So powerless we all become when they tie up our hands.
They hasten us and chasten us - yet no one understands..!
There's just no more that we can give, for they have taken all -
in taxes, fines and hidden fees, licenses, et al.
They rushed so quickly to the aid of those too big to fail -
and then ignored the rest of us that they refused to bail.
Collecting campaign contributions from the greedy ones -
they then give them the very last of our few meager funds.
Refusing to repent and out beyond the furthest hope,
I see a country dangling from an unforgiving rope -
from poor results that legalized and drove our morals loose.
I see inflated, selfish heads above a tightened noose.
The feet still kick and wiggle as we take our final breath -
and offer no assurance from a sad and certain death -
because we still refuse the God of patient, certain wrath!
Oh, how can we complain when "we, the people" chose our path?
We've mortgaged off the waves of grain and every native park!
We've mortgaged every standing tree - the branches, trunks and bark!
We've mortgaged off Mount Rushmore and the Lady Liberty -
who shines so very beautiful! It's pure insanity!!
I see a sacrifice so great - but our 'will' never bends.
We lose our farms and families - we lose our closest friends.
I see we're harshly tested from a Washington DC -
and we'll be tested all the more until our freedoms see...
We're Patriots! We're fighting! But Lord, who understands?
Our gift to heirs, true liberty, is fragile in our hands.
©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 22 february 2013
My Dearest Friends
The stars come out to welcome me. The sun had set so fast.
I need to live a simple life, forgetting evil's past.
Here, I'm at peace with all my friends - at this, my Alma mater.
A seagull swoops so ever low as wingtip kisses water.
Now true friends have a way of understanding every word -
though swaying branches speak to me in language never heard.
But I can understand them all, for I've been here before.
So lonely are the busy ones who only hear the shore.
The moon looks down with saddened frown. I sense it's message there,
"We love it when you visit us. We really, truly care."
But even so, I soon must go. Much stronger, blows a breeze.
It's whisper lingers, "Do not go. Stay longer, if you please."
Each time I leave I don't forget their many loving ways.
They're etched into my mem'ry like- the sunset's brilliant rays -
that shower down around me as a rainbow's vivid hues
and light up like a halo to enhance all nature's views.
Between my obligations, torn - decisions I regret -
then say, the leaves up in the trees, "Please do not leave us yet."
And say, the little waves on shore (as they splash near my feet),
"To have you here- to talk to is- a real cheerful treat."
So I respond in loving kind, "God made you so divine!
You'll always be my sincere friends. The pleasure is all mine!
"I so enjoy our favorite talks and I, great wonders, see.
So rich, our time together is. I love your company."
Reflecting off the water's waves, the lights from distant shore -
still seem to make me want to stay and talk a little more.
Yet like the sun, I now must run. The sky is turning black.
They may not know I love them so, but I'll be coming back.
Just one more time, I soak it in. God always makes it right.
"I'll miss you all, my dearest friends- and bid you all Good night!"
I turn to take a final glance before I walk away.
I hesitate, a tear slips down. There'll be another day.
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 10 november 2012
Shattered Glass
A gold fish swam to the glass.
It's tail fin made the water stir
against the glass. It peered beyond,
but it could swim no further.
I reached too - but couldn't through.
That invisible glass prevented me.
Surviving in our own little worlds
isn't always meant to be.
We have eyes but what deceives?
For everything will come to pass -
this side of the present tense,
and out beyond the solid glass.
Sins law, like glass, invisible.
It's nothing but a deadly lie.
I reached but couldn't feel His touch.
It stayed between my God and I.
I was deep in waters sin.
Within there is no air.
There is no grace inside the law -
and faith cannot live there.
But then one night some time ago,
in quiet stillness, the world heard -
a star shone bright above a babe.
Something big on earth occurred.
He reputed worldly wisdom.
His death on earth did pass,
but heard before that quiet night -
the shout that shattered glass....
"Abba, Father" shattered it.
Sin's law in pieces, everywhere -
forgotten, forgiven, gone.
Grace unlocked us from despair.
Hope washed us ever closer.
Free from circling without breath,
free from sinful bondage where,
the wages of sin is death.
Some day soon we'll see our graves -
yet sin no longer holds us slaves.
The glass is broken. Make no waves -
just tell the world that Jesus saves!
©2008 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
Romans 6:23 (KJV) For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
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louis gander, 25 february 2013
Get Well Poem
Please tell me that it isn't so.
Please tell me that you needn't go.
I've been awake all day and night.
Please let me that you'll be alright.
But something reached down deep inside -
and seized my guts until I cried.
That 'something' pulled me in-side-out.
It hurt so bad, I had to shout!
Though we've shared words, this is the case -
that I've not seen your smiling face.
I haven't seen your flowing hair -
yet this is true: Please know I care.
My prayers for you are true, sincere.
"Please get well soon" cries every tear.
Though I've not seen your 'sunshine' eyes -
of this I'm sure, you're very wise.
Please know that this is not a game -
I only know your lovely name.
Your health is dire - and this I fear.
Yet not one little peep I hear.
Please tell me- tell me all is fine!
Where's the signal? Where's the sign?
That there's no news, has taken toll.
Stiff silence stabs my inner soul.
The clock keeps running- tock and tick.
Not knowing makes me really sick.
I wish I knew right where you were.
My tight embrace would surely cure.
Your favorite poem, I'd recite.
I'd sit beside you day and night.
But I don't have those super powers
to bring bouquet of fresh-cut flowers.
Yet my concern runs really deep
so I'm awake and cannot sleep.
Wait! Now again, my soul hums!!
Because your message finally comes :)
I'll be excited, so reassured -
when, at last, I hear you're cured.
Up and walking, quickly be -
smiling widely, you and me :)
~gander Copyright 2013
louis gander, 26 february 2013
Her Letter
I read, re-read her letter
a mere one-hundred times.
Her thoughts were pure and priceless,
in words of perfect rhyme.
I hadn't seen her smiling face,
but I will always be -
drawn, as if by magnet,
to her magnetically.
I hadn't heard her 'angel' voice
that sings as waves would flow -
yet somehow she has drawn me in
to shore where waters go.
I hadn't smelled her sweet perfume,
as garden full of flowers.
But oh, if I had breathed them in,
I'd be under her powers.
I hadn't held her fingers yet -
or hand in tender way -
or hugged her tightly when she hurt -
or kissed her tears away...
But oh, I understand her well -
and really must disclose -
that she's is kind and loving as,
a precious, perfect rose.
A rose that blooms so purely,
in rich, romantic hue.
A rose that grows securely,
in greatness through and through.
Her kindness and compassion
prove true humility -
so I'll embrace forever -
the letter she sent me.
~gander Copyright 2013
louis gander, 31 january 2013
I Wander Yonder
I wander yonder over hills where those before me trod -
aimlessly through wants and needs. I find it somewhat odd.
I wander yonder guessing so and pay a heavy price -
by following some friends I have and words of ill-advice.
I wander yonder through my life and laugh along the way -
deceiving self, believing I am happy every day.
I wander yonder up until the day I get so old -
a speck of truth will be revealed that I had not been told.
I wander yonder 'til the time that I begin to ponder -
God's great faithful, loving Son, so full of grace and wonder.
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 1 november 2012
Joyful Tears
In quantities, our teardrops fall,
they drip off sorry faces -
resulting from our broken hearts.
We save them in our vases -
for yet another lofty dream -
another selfish rose.
Is anyone the wiser?
Tell me no one knows.
And here, our vases set alone,
still filled with empty dreams.
Oh, everybody has them -
it's just the way, it seems.
It's popularity for some -
for others; riches, gold.
But when it's over, said and done,
their rose is dead and cold.
The tears we shed are endless,
and from our souls drawn.
We water every selfish want -
then later wish them gone.
We hold our very special vase -
we think of only 'me' -
but rather where still waters are -
our tears of joy should be.
Do roses last forever?
There is a day they die -
then scattered are the pieces of
the heart that happened by.
Lost pieces, scattered everywhere -
forever, broken are -
and at the end of shattered dreams,
there's one eternal scar.
When in, our earthly dreams, we live,
regret is always sure -
for when we grow our selfish rose,
it simply won't endure.
I often wonder why we work,
and waste away the years -
accomplishing so little with
such lonely, painful tears.
So walk beside still waters.
Through joyful tears you'll see -
a love that never wavers and,
a grace that's always free.
And if your faith is watered
and grows from day to day -
there's really nothing more to do -
for joyful is the way!
©2011 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 24 november 2012
Sin Still Stinks!
BASED on a true story
during gooseberry picking season, 1934
as told to me by my mother, Ruth.
---
On our old North Clayton farmstead -
my brother, sister, I -
were picking berries with our mom,
when brother caught my eye.
In each our hands, a bucket with,
our minds on all our work.
We each were very diligent
'til brother went berserk.
Wisconsin's early summer brought us
many ripe gooseberries -
but never could we match what mom,
within her bucket carried.
God's trees stretched high above our heads,
His briers pulled our clothes -
yet creek ran faithful, east to west -
while heat, with sun, had rose.
You may not know our brother yet,
but all of us could tell,
that trouble followed him around
and knew him very well.
He said, "Look at this big kitten!"
He poked it with a stick -
but when it turned and raised its tail,
our mother shouted quick.
Although it wasn't humorous,
we giggled in our fun.
But when mom said it was a skunk -
we sure knew how to run!
Now sin can sure deceive us.
It's fun, this world thinks -
but it is not to play with so,
remember, sin still stinks!
©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 24 october 2012
Where Are You Lord?
I searched and searched but couldn't find -
along still waters I was blind.
I was confused, I was dismayed
until I stopped, until I prayed...
Where are You Lord?
Soften my selfish eyes that stray
that I might see a better way -
so I can find You.
Where are You Lord?
Soften my selfish ears of choice
that I might hear Your still, small voice -
so I can find You.
Where are You Lord?
Soften my selfish hands that wring
that can't hold firm to Your blessing -
so I can find You.
Where are You Lord?
Soften my straight and prideful nose
that I won't judge and won't suppose -
so I can find You.
Where are You Lord?
Soften my foolish, selfish words
so I'll enjoy Your singing birds -
so I can find You.
Where are You Lord?
Soften me as a potter would
who'll mold me into what I should -
so I can find You.
Where are You Lord?
Soften me with a discipline
that I might stop, turn, then begin -
so I can find You.
Where are You Lord?
Soften my selfish heart so I
might feel the hurt, the faintest cry -
so I can find You.
Where are You Lord?
Were still waters meant to be?
Although I searched, I couldn't see.
Yet there behind me all the way
was Jesus. Then I heard Him say,
"I AM above all
nature, beauty and goodness,
power, supremacy and holiness,
wrath, sovereignty and greatness,
mercy, compassion and fairness,
grace, knowledge and boldness,
respect, teaching and kindness,
love, patience and faithfulness,
loyalty, giving and happiness,
peace, joy and gladness".
I had searched, but couldn't see -
and I was at a loss -
until I stopped and He found me -
from high upon a cross.
So now it is
I follow Him -
in hands that are the Potter's -
faithfully and steadfast,
with endurance and perseverance,
along His peaceful waters.
©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 10 january 2013
Obeyed?
Here is another true story poem (summer 1934)
about my grandmother (Ida McDermott) and my mother (Ruth)
who traveled every day between their farm at North Clayton, Wisconsin
to to deliver cream to Soldier's Grove as told to me by my mother.
(Told in 'first person' from my mother's perspective...)
I had got on and sat upon our wagon load of goods.
all set to view the country hue on rustic road through woods.
But mom said no, I couldn't go. I rarely ever stayed -
but this time did so down I slid. I'm glad that I obeyed.
Our old wagon, always saggin' had rough, rugged boards -
but it did hold that precious load as she had started towards -
the creamery - a guarantee - of how we paid our bills -
in such a life, excessive strife - through vale against the hills.
She left that day on road of clay delivering with care -
four dusty mile - with grimaced smile - and cream that must get there.
Familiar sounds - some barking hounds, a crow up in a tree -
and tough routine, unlike a queen, that she would never see.
Out of the blue without a clue -around a curve and hill -
a drunken guy - flew passing by - like we were sitting still -
then ripped the side of Topsy's hide and threw mom off her seat.
She landed hard, but not too scarred, between the horses feet.
Though somewhat numb, she scrambled some from under hooves and wheels.
A bit perplexed, what happened next - she scrambled and did feel,
a massive rock where she took stock and hid as God provides.
Protected there in silent prayer from grace that never hides.
Some seconds spent, bewilderment, that held them there at bay -
so trampled not, she never got - before they ran away.
She tried to nurse ol' Topsy's curse. Oh, why did God allow -
old Topsy's death with its last breath and further hardships now?
The wagon load could not be sold. I thought that I would scream.
But mama taught that I ought not - to cry over spilled cream.
Is life not fair? Does God not care? Well, mama knew His way...
Obeyed was why - so safe was I. She thanked the Lord that day.
I had got on and sat upon our wagon load of goods.
all set to view the country hue on rustic road through woods.
But mom said no, I couldn't go. I rarely ever stayed -
but this time did so down I slid - and glad that I obeyed.
©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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louis gander, 24 february 2013
In His Sandals (Easter)
I cannot serve two masters. I serve, but only one,
for if I love some sinfulness, I hate God's only Son.
Could I walk in His sandals? Do I really understand?
Of what would it encompass? Of what would it demand?
Could I put up with some abuse, and could I humbly be,
a whipping board of insults, for all to scoff at me?
Could I withstand a whipping? Tell me, would I know,
the pain down in my open wounds, torn flesh from every blow?
Could I, but bear the privilege - to be a king renowned,
my face stained in bloody streaks from such a thorny crown?
And would I know the cost of love, our God's most precious grace,
or would I simply think of me and hate the human race?
Could I endure the anguish then, as ropes bind hands and feet,
so knotted up so tightly that - I'd give in to defeat?
There on my back, could I stare at - a spike set on my skin,
then watch them take a heavy stone and slam it deep within?
Oh, I would know what's coming next. I'd clench my other fist.
Could I endure another nail- or would I just resist?
Then tortured even further, could pain be so complete,
when to the cross I'm nailed with- another through my feet?
Slowly ropes raise cross and I. The base slides in the hole.
Then in ghastly, horrid pain, would that jerk shake my soul?
So there I'd hang, alone up high- for all to mock and hate.
Could I endure the anguish then? Can I, to that relate?
Could I survive for several hours in pain and endless shame?
and would I ask forgiveness for those that I could blame?
Could I die for ALL the world- their sinful sacrifice -
and know that few would love me? Would that, for me, suffice?
Would my final miracle call for heavenly hosts -
or would I yield to Father's will and then give up the ghost?
No, hate and anger would not end. The sword would pierce my side....
Oh, would I slip away and hide? Which way would I decide?
His sandals are too large to fill. His time, so long ago,
and Heaven- much too far away, while I'm down here below.
But could I wear His sandals- if I was called upon,
and are my trials greater that- I'd gladly put His on?
He demands my little faith. He holds no speck of wrath,
when He's a lamp unto my feet- a light unto my path.
Yes, I wear His sandals- for I've been called upon
and faithful every morning I now slip them boldly on.
This poem may explain it- but who really understands?
For every sin that we commit puts nails through Jesus' hands.
We cannot serve two masters. We serve, but only one.
We have to hate all sinfulness, to love God's only Son.
©2007 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
Luke 16:10 (NASB) "He who is faithful in a very little thing is faithful also in much; and he who is unrighteous in a very little thing is unrighteous also in much.”
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Latest comments:
18 may 2024
kb
jakoś kojarzy mi się z "siostrami wielkiej
18 may 2024
no chyba że pomieszkuje
18 may 2024
zdaje się że nikt tu już nie mieszka
18 may 2024
bardzo
18 may 2024
orzeźwieni... prawie jak otrzeźwieni... i to
16 may 2024
violetta
Może w lipcu będę miała takie wakacje:)
16 may 2024
jeśli tylko
słońce w płynie..
15 may 2024
Weronika
Za jeszcze jeden rejs!
14 may 2024
Mam takie oko :)
14 may 2024
Jaga
Zwierzęta upodobniły się do koloru otoczenia
14 may 2024
To naturalny suchy i pustynny klimat. I tam są
14 may 2024
Klimat taki, że nie był i raczej nie będzie,
19 may 2024
Satish Verma
18 may 2024
Satish Verma
17 may 2024
Satish Verma
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Satish Verma
15 may 2024
Jaga
15 may 2024
Satish Verma
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Satish Verma
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Satish Verma
11 may 2024
Satish Verma
10 may 2024
Jaga