Plan D
All set to go to Israel,
but a pandemic
disappointed me.
Then the Netherlands
postponed
till next year.
Coming up soon, Italy.
Looks like I may be
disappointed again.
Perhaps I should aim for somewhere
closer.
A positive attitude can
make plan D satisfying.
Tandem
You don’t just put
training wheels
on this thing
called life.
You have me ride a
tricycle.
And I still manage
to fall over.
Lord, don’t get
tired of running behind me
while I’m trying
to learn my big-girl’s bike.
May I have the faith
to trust my trainer,
knowing I’ll
confidently ride a bicycle someday.
Better yet, let’s
ride tandem with you in the front.
Small Successes
I dreamed of becoming
a household name
Convincing the
world of eternal truths
Books by the dozen
earning wealth and fame
Dispensing wisdom for
children and youths
At writers
conferences with trendy booths
Now, I’m glad for preparing
meals for my man
For helping others,
doing what I can
To accomplish the
small things is the best
To make the most
of what lies in my hand
And that in itself
is a great success
What a fine
invitation
From the one almighty
God
To ask, seek and
knock each day
Meet Him as we
pray, though flawed.
Poeming
After Robert
casts bread crumbs
fish rush in,
eating eagerly
of what other fish
leave behind.
The tree perched
on a boulder
Way over the
raging sea,
Like it was afraid
to drown.
The sea waved, “Come
down to me.”
Stone bridge and its reflection
Create one circle,
complete
Framing trees mirrored
in stream
Like a peaceful
dream, so sweet
To Resume
Do you ever feel
stuck?
One project is
waiting
on another which
Is waiting on
another
then another.
Life can be a
tangled
skein of yarn
and we’re left
looking
for the ends
to untangle it.
The narrow, rugged
path wove
through a grove of
old gnarled oak
and shadows. Whispered
old tales
of fairies of Wales,
they spoke.
There once was a challenge
for poets
Did they love to
poem? You know it.
It was such a hit
They didn’t want
to quit
So on Wednesdays, come and show it.
The Long Goodbye
With my dad,
it started with
some memory slips,
then forgetting
where he put things.
Then accusing others
about the “stolen” items.
He forgot words.
He forgot names.
He forgot what
hunting season it was.
He’d walk to his old
house in the middle of the night.
The new owner
would call and say, “Come get Jim.”
We’d take him to respite
care and the caregiver
would show us a
craft he had made.
Sadness crept in
at the role reversal.
He’d think photographs
were real
and worry about
the little kids,
that were now grown.
He’d chat with
himself in the mirror.
In the end, he
went into the nursing home.
He’d walk all over
the place
and the staff
would keep tabs.
He ended up in a
wheel chair
and for some
reason the ladies liked him
and tried to steal
him away to their rooms.
One day I stood
over his bed and said goodbye,
knowing that it
would be the last time.
But for fifteen
years, I was saying goodbye
to a little bit of
him each day.
Goodbye
G oodbye to a
loved one
O pens floods of
grief
O pens floods of
memories
D oors shut
B ut others open
Y esterday’s life
E xperiences help
you move on.
The sun said
good night
To the orange
sky
Then sunk into
The quiet
ripples
Of the ocean
The hot air
balloon
Drifted above
an indigo lake
In an inky sky
The narrow
country road
Ended in the sun.
Shadowy trees
stood on each side
Touching at the
top.
Dream World
If dreams came
true, when asked to speak,
I would be
naked, chased by bears
Or aliens, and
be too weak.
I’m glad my dreams
do not come true.
My kids, so
young, would need my care.
And this would
make no sense because
They would be
old and have no hair.
I’m glad my
dreams do not come true.
I’d kiss old boyfriends
who were nice,
But Hubby wouldn’t
like that much.
And I’d be
overrun with mice.
I’m glad my
dreams do not come true.
I’d wander in
my old high school.
I’d search for clean
bathrooms or class.
I’d get lost
and feel like a fool.
I’m glad my
dreams do not come true.
I’d have a
house that wouldn’t stop,
And some floors
would be falling through.
I would leap
from a mountain top.
I’m glad my
dreams do not come true.
I’d see old friends
which would be great,
Sometimes I’d be
able to fly.
But I’ll say,
and not hesitate,
I’m glad my dreams
do not come true.
The Blank Screen
When writers
sit in front of a blank screen,
They must believe
the thoughts are bound to come.
A jigsaw puzzle
with its shattered scene--
It seems
impossible and you feel dumb.
Piece by piece,
you have a patch and then some.
Likewise,
word by word an idea forms.
Then
thoughts, like bees, begin to come in swarms.
Then like
the puzzle picture becomes whole,
Their written
work becomes complete, transforms,
And then
encourages a wounded soul.
A Writer’s
Faith
Sometimes, when
you sit
in front of a
blank screen
you must
believe
the thoughts
will come.
Like a jig saw
puzzle
seems impossible
when you stare
at 2000 pieces.
You believe
it will come together
one
piece at a time.
So
word by word
an
idea forms
and
somehow
lands
on the screen
in
a way
that
makes sense.
And
it may
encourage
someone
or
help someone
along
their way.
The Paranormal
I believe in angels
and demons
because Jesus
did.
I don’t believe
in fairies,
ghosts,
bigfoot,
or aliens.
But enough
people do
that it makes
me wonder.
It’s hard to
believe the news these days
or social media
when it censors opinions
it doesn’t
agree with. It’s hard to believe
that we have
freedom of religion or speech
when we’re not
supposed to offend anyone.
It’s hard to
believe what’s going on with riots,
and racism against
blacks and whites,
intolerance
against police officers,
and the
slaughtering of innocents.
Believe
B ased on what
the Bible says
E ternity waits
for the saved and the
L ost. It’s
true or it isn’t.
I t’s appointed
for a person to die, then
E ternal
judgment. The Bible says,
V ictory is in
Jesus. Where you spend
E ternity is
worth looking into.
Dream World
I’m glad dreams
don’t come true.
If they did,
every time I was asked to speak
I’d be naked,
chased by bears or abducted by aliens.
My kids would
change ages from time to time
and that would
be confusing.
I’d be kissing
old boyfriends or perfect strangers.
Hubby wouldn’t
be too wild about that.
I’d be
endlessly walking around my old high school
trying to remember
my locker combination,
searching for my
next class
or a clean, functioning
bathroom.
I’d be
wandering around in a house
with hundreds
of rooms and floors
and some of the
floors would be falling through.
I’d be stuck on
mountain tops or tall buildings
and have to
jump.
I’d have to
take care of mice and I don’t like mice.
Old friends
would be popping in, that would be great,
and at times I’d
be able to fly, but still,
I’m glad dreams
don’t come true.
A Caregiver’s World
In a caregiver’s day
Things may seem a
bit strange
Routine may never
change
You have to learn
his way
And get used to
his play
“Normal” may
rearrange
Play the same DVD
Seems like he’ll
never stop
Sometimes he’ll
buzz and hop
His talking’s not
easy
And remind him to
pee
It’s difficult to shop
But when he
strokes your face
Know you’re in a
good place
In My Writing
World
In my writing
world, words surprise me.
They show
different facets when they’re twirled.
I’m content with
my laptop, words and hot tea,
In my writing
world.
Sometimes ideas
are slowly unfurled,
As I think about
what I feel, hear, smell, taste and see.
Other times,
they’re more forcefully hurled.
It’s fun to go
on a wild writing spree.
Words go from
homely to fancy and pearled.
The art of
words and me agree,
In my writing
world.
Thoughts He Better Not Say
“It doesn’t
make your butt look fat.”
She smiles and
goes forth on her way.
She doesn’t
need those pants for that.
And “Does that
meatloaf taste okay?”
“It’s your best
meatloaf yet,” I say.
It’s all the
way up to real bad.
Hers is the
worst I’ve ever had.
And “Do you like
my new hair cut?”
“You chose that
style and I am glad.”
It goes real
well with her fat butt.
24-7
Just because I don’t
have a 9-5 job
doesn’t mean I’m
sitting around
waiting for someone
to call
to ask me to do
something.
I give myself
permission
to be a caregiver,
domestic engineer,
writer, artist and
musician,
but few seem to
get it.
But maybe it’s me
who needs to fully
embrace
my life in this
season.
The Real Living
Soon this life on earth
will be a foggy memory.
Then the real living
begins.
I have a lot to do on
earth,
but it doesn’t compare
to all of the things
I’ll be doing in Heaven.
And I’ll have all eternity
to do them. I anticipate
seeing Jesus face to face.
I’m thankful for my life
and will enjoy it while I’m
here.
I won’t worry about
perfection
and getting everything
right.
God is the author.
This life is a rough
draft.
And it’s just the
beginning
of a long and wonderful
story
with no end.
What Will This Poem Be?
A morning smile
A rugged mile
A comforting quilt
A flower that
wilts
A cattle prod
A praise to God
A refreshing drink
A thought to think
An encouraging
friend
A starting trend
A helping hand
A place to land
A bit of fun
A ray of sun
A song to sing
A taking wing
A prayer to pray
A wish for the day
What will this
poem be?
I guess we’ll see.
Who is Jesus?
The lamb, The lion
The beginning and
the end
The king of kings
The son of man, The
friend
The servant, The
master
The bridegroom, The
door
The alpha and
omega,
The Messiah, The
Lord
The Christ, The
God with us
The peace, The
promised One
The soon and coming
King
The rose of Sharon
The Worthy One
The Son of God, The
light
The joy, The Holy
One
The way, The vine
The good shepherd
The lover of our
souls
The atonement, The
bridge
The overcomer of
the world
The lily of the
valley
The salvation, The
sacrifice
The rock, the
corner stone
The truth, The
life
The hope, the all
in all
The resurrection
The bright and
morning star
The answer, The
question
Thousands Upon
Thousands
A thousand chores
to do.
A thousand books
to read.
A thousand poems
to write.
A thousand friends
to see.
A thousand places
to go.
A thousand phone
calls to make.
A thousand emails
to answer.
A thousand hikes
to take.
A thousand pictures to paint.
A thousands tunes
to play.
A thousand lessons
to complete.
A thousand prayers
to pray.
A thousand shows
to watch.
A thousand projects
to crochet.
A thousand puzzles
to work.
What shall I do
today?
Promised
I think about that
appointment with death.
and wonder when it
will be.
How old will I be.
Will it be
painful, peaceful, or what?
Will I accomplish
the things I want to be then?
Will my family be
gathered around me?
Or will I be the
last to go?
I think of my father-in-law
who died at 103
During the
pandemic.
We couldn’t even
go to the funeral.
How odd that our
times of death
are so varied and
unknown.
How seldom we
think about it.
How desperately we
try to avoid it.
How we grieve when
a loved one goes first.
What’s beyond that
door?
Jesus’s promises
bring me much peace.
But I wish everyone
would receive His promises.
