To every laborer in God’s own field
Who comes with their sickle, ready to wield,
Eager to work with all of their might
To bring in the harvest that’s golden and white—
The Laborer
Attitude
The Rose
The funny thing with roses, they start as just a bud;
Some take so long to open, they seem like just a dud.
But no amount of wishing will make them open up,
Like no amount of wanting removed the bitter cup.
Perspective
It’s not right at all—in fact, it’s wrong,
Like a misplayed note in a perfect song.
It’s a blighted stain that shouldn’t be,
Like spilling crude in the open sea.
Back to June
Minutes make an hour, hours make a day;
Days make months and then a year as time goes on its way.
April has a birthday and blooming spring as well;
June is time for marriage with announcements in the mail.
A concert in the part, a folksy sort of tune—
We get that thing in August, and then we’re back to June.
Valentine
Make your life a living valentine.
February’s meant for couples—
Roses and romance,
And looks that say “I love you,”
Exchanged within a glance.
But what if I don’t fit that mold?
It doesn’t quite seem fair;
Are loneliness and heartache then,
All that I can share?
“Oh, no,” cries the wing-tipped cherub,
“Please don’t think so small.
Love’s not just for lovers;
Love is meant for all!”
Christmas for One
This Christmas I’m alone and single.
Sleigh bells ring with a hollow jingle.
The bells, you see, aren’t quite as fun
When they ring-ding-jingle just for one.
Crumpled Little Leaf
Worthless, crumpled little leaf—
Cast off without a care;
Set upon the listless wind,
Carried here and there.
You’re not but nature’s clutter
To disgrace a pristine lawn;
The only want we give you
Is we want you good and gone!
And the Lord within the Manor
Sees you only as a chore;
He’ll have to rake and bag you
Which is irksome all the more.
The Mother Who Knew!
There’s a tale of a mother who lived in a shoe,
When faced with a challenge knew not what to do.
So the family had dinner without any bread—
Then she spanked all her children and sent them to bed!
Why we rehearse this nobody knows,
So let’s faithen the story and see how it goes. . . .
Endure Well
Don’t give up. Photo by Gabriela Palai.
As you walk the lonely road. . .
Mile after mile
Without expected blessing,
This may be your trial.
But if you’ve done what you can
And still must wait awhile;
Don’t give up my faithful friend—
Delay is not denial.
When It Ends
Author’s Note: To be clear, I do not think that the current difficulties we are facing signify the end of the world! However, the disruption to normal life caused me to remember these thoughts I jotted down a couple of years ago. Though at first this poem may seem disheartening, at a time when many things seem out of our control, what is in our control is who we become. And that is encouraging indeed.
How will it be when it ends,
When it ends . . .
How will it be when it ends—
When Hell is unleashed and with murder contends;
How will it be when it ends?
Once Upon A Rhyme 