Wednesday, January 2, 2019

In Language Seldom Heard 1-2-19


Near foot high grass on contoured lands
on winding stream where timber stands,
I longed to be on nature's sod
where furry ones and pilgrims trod.
While sitting there within my dream
on boulder overlooking stream,
I dreamt of living in the wood,
of peace and hopes among the good.

A little fish had caught my eye.
I asked of it, "Please tell me why...
why do you seem so content
without the shelter of a tent?"
It simply made a little splash
and said, "I don't need home or cash.
I am content when water's clean.
I don't need man to intervene".

A little fawn on nearby path
was soaking in a sunlit bath.
I held my breath and held my thrill,
as I sat there so quiet, still.
It's soft tan fur just begged a touch
but me, it didn't care for much.
It jumped off quick around a tree.
Where it had gone, I couldn't see.

I heard a nearby sparrow sing.
It wasn't rich and wasn't king.
But it enjoyed its outdoor space
away from man and human race.
Now it was happy, that I knew,
but when I sang, it quickly flew.
I knew that it would be alright
and watched 'til it was out of sight.

I wondered what would happen next,
what I could write within my text.
I felt the breeze and breathed it in,
then heard all nature's prayer begin.
It was in language seldom heard
from fish or beast or even bird,
yet nature praised the God above
with all its beauty, all its love.

Black city streets are not for me.
The stink, the noise should never be.
Encroaching here upon this scene
are man-made things grossly obscene.
They're out of sync and out of place.
It's just not right, a huge disgrace.
God gave this beauty to the man
and has for us a greater plan.

Our God will bless if we've obeyed,
so please protect what He has made.
All this is God's and that is fine.
It isn't yours and isn't mine.
Creation spoke to me in wood
in lovely word now understood.
Still, I fell short when I replied.
In faded echoes my words died.

©2019 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Saturday, December 22, 2018

Gifts 12-22-18


The gift of life.  The gift of air.
The gift of mother's loving care.

The gift of water I can drink.
The gift of mind so I can think.

The gift of sweet and sour taste.
The gift of food that fuels my haste.

The gift of beauty from the rose.
 The gift of fragrance as it grows.

The gift of hearing with my ears.
The gift of feeling through my tears.

The gift of fingertips and touch.
The gift of hugs that matter much.

The gift of singing fav'rite songs.
The gift of healing all my wrongs.

The gift of knowing Jesus Christ.
The gift of grace, so overpriced.

The gift of marriage- man and wife.
The gift of everlasting life.

These gifts of love are on display,
these gifts of God from day to day.

These gifts abundant, always near,
these gifts of God from year to year.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Saturday, December 8, 2018

Unequaled Thrill 12-8-18


A placid picture about God, a poet cannot pen.
For who can comprehend it all?  Not selfish, sinful men!

If only eyes could see the truth.  If only ears could hear...
but noise of earthly living seem to make mere words unclear.

Incessant, louder beating drums in earphones is not peace -
and rancid words corrupting minds just seems to never cease.

While sinful men ignore God's words in heart and soul and mind,
the Judge of all the universe is patient, loving, kind.

So grasp your pen with loving thoughts and set your glass aside,
then write to your heart's full content until you're satisfied.

We may not be a preacher that the sinners come to see,
but by our words, through loving hearts, we might a teacher be.

We will not know where our words go, but I can only say -
that if we do not write the words then they aren't on display.

So pen a placid picture on your clear and empty page,
so people see your humble gift that only God can gauge.

Just give all glory unto God and let Him do His will
and may all sinners wake one day to that unequaled thrill.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Friday, November 23, 2018

Hay Ride 11-23-18


Goliath horses paired ahead
were harnessed tight in Christmas red.
They breathed out puffs of cloudy steam.
Excitement made the children scream.

My father lifted me on board.
A seat of straw was our reward.
The chilly air, the mountain peaks
brought smiles to our rosy cheeks.

Anticipation of the ride
had brought me goosebumps deep inside,
but air was frigid, maybe that
had made me pull down tight, my hat.

Afford, dad couldn't, warmer clothes.
Inside my boots were frozen toes.
I wiggled them as best I could.
I hugged my mom.  She understood.

It seemed too thick and seemed too wide
when scarf, around my neck, was tied.
My mittens too, were very thin.
but knew that soon, we would begin.

There were, on board, a lot of folks,
(while most were quiet, some told jokes),
yet there was room for ev'ryone
and with a jerk, we had begun.

With bumpy trail, I held on tight
with bushes veiled in frosty white.
As trees held high their snowy limbs,
in 'a cappella' we sang hymns.

With Christmas carols, young and old
had all ignored the bitter cold.
As we rode through the dips and swells
our voices chimed with harness bells.

The wagon groaned with heavy heart,
I thought it might just fall apart.
But it did not.  It never broke.
That wagon floor was solid oak.

Between those boards as we passed by
were horse hoof tracks that caught my eye
and puffs of grass above the snow
caressed the floor boards down below.

The snowy paths, those horses knew.
God's countryside held quite a view.
The sun went down.  I saw the stars.
Our praise was His.  His eve was ours.

Like life, the path was very rough -
and straw was not the softest stuff,
but through our love, much fun we had
with brother, sister, mom and dad.

The celebration of Christ's birth
was perfect as His life on earth -
from star above His manger bed
to thorns upon His grieving head.

It brought us joy and we had fun.
Too quickly though, the ride was done.
We couldn't stay.  We had to leave,
but I found Christ that Christmas Eve.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Saturday, November 10, 2018

In Jesus' Name 11-10-18


Dear Lord and Savior, hear my plea.
It's all of you and not of me.
Forgive me for the wrong I've done
and all my past I can't outrun.

Until I learn, do what it takes
to chasten me for my mistakes.
Please humble me so I can't brag,
for I am just one filthy rag.

Please help the ones I've sinned against.
I'll make amends.  I'll recompense.
You love the world so I can live.
I thank you Lord that You forgive.

Please help me not to money love,
but focus there on You above.
Please give me faith that's ever true.
Please help me love forever You.

Please give me strength to do your will
and heed Your Word 'til breath is still.
Please help the sick and heal the lame.
I pray this all in Jesus' name.

Amen.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Saturday, October 20, 2018

Mighty One, The 10-20-18


I sit and stare at water there,
beyond the palm where lake is calm
and try to write the words I'm thinking of.
But often times my words lack rhymes
as fingers shake and pencils break
while making sense of Christ's most precious love.

I don't know why I often cry
at such a price of sacrifice.
Though innocent, the Man of God obeyed.
With no remorse, He stayed the course
and took the tip of wicked whip,
then carried cross because He was betrayed.

He didn't quit.  He carried it
without restraint, without complaint,
up rugged path to hill where all would be.
And without fail, He took a nail -
another one.  They still weren't done...
And then was raised for all the world to see.

The pain was such it mattered much
and time was short for His escort -
those angels waiting anxiously to aid.
For all along, ten thousand strong 
were in His care and waiting there.
But it would be His call was never made.

From cross He heard another's word -
another soul that He made whole.
It mattered not, the next cross he was from.
So it would be that grace was free
if we believe and always cleave
to Him who knows our hearts and wants to come.

So much unsaid with Jesus dead.
Though buried deep, they couldn't keep
our Savior from yet one more miracle.
So off His toes, He then arose
despite our sin to live again -
above the clouds.  This wasn't typical.

I pictured sky in my mind's eye
and watched in awe at what I saw
and still envision how it all could be.
As I look back at all the flack
that Jesus took in God's Good Book
I just can't understand His love for me.

My stare is blank at water's bank,
beyond the fog I see a bog
as I forget all that I'm thinking of.
Now as before I tremble more.
In any case, I now erase
my empty words of Christ's most precious love.

My words are wrong.  They don't belong.
My ev'ry word just seems absurd!
They don't do justice for all He has done!
Thoughts disappear.  I shed a tear -
and say a prayer that isn't fair -
from little me - to God, the Mighty One.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Friday, October 12, 2018

If You Can Interpret 10-12-18

If there's love in you still, please read if you will
so that you can understand fully -
the wisdom of God from the Heavens to sod,
from ants to the mammoth so woolly.

Can you understand of the rock and the sand -
a foundation as in white and black?
If so, you will master the words of your pastor
and find that you're on the right track.

So don't be discouraged but be ye encouraged
if you can interpret these words.
Avoid your destruction and heed this instruction,
removing yourself from the herds.

For many will perish because they won't cherish
the grace from the Father above.
and willingly selfish, they cannot embellish
a life that is full of His love.

Deny yourself firstly before you'll be thirsty
for kinship that's second to none.
If you lend Him your ear you will certainly hear
the truth from our God's only Son.

So don't read this poem if you cannot know Him
as you will be wasting your time.
For this poem's of love of our God up above,
if you can interpret its rhyme.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Friday, September 28, 2018

Proud To Follow 9-28-18


Some are quite embarrassed when
their pride gets in the way.
They can't defend a hero who
is still brushed off today.

So tell me, what is wrong with Him,
...a Man who healed the blind?
...a Man who healed a withered hand?
...a Man who was so kind?

I'm proud to be a follower
of He who loved so much,
of He who sacrificed for me -
whose hands I'll one day touch.

I'll hold those strong and loving hands
when I am rid of earth -
for He has given me new life
through this, my second birth.

He died so I might live again
and never more in sin.
That's right.  A new creation here.
I have been 'born again'!

So go ahead, if that's your wish -
just joke and laugh and sneer -
but I know where I'm headed now.
I'm getting out of here!

I gave my life to Jesus, all -
escaping sin's great chain.
I'm free as I could ever be.
In Him I will remain.

Though at times this world is harsh,
I sing when life is grim.
I'm thankful that He saved my soul
and proud to follow Him!

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Saturday, September 22, 2018

That Special Boy 9-22-18


This poem's for that little boy
who I met in the store;
just helping grandma groc'ry shop
as he had done before.

This poem's for that patient boy.
While we began to chat;
attentively he listened too.
I was impressed with that.

This poem's for that quiet boy -
a little hard to gauge;
polite and rev'rent standing there,
mature for his young age.

This poem's for that humble boy
who's good and never sways,
who knows what's right and knows what's wrong,
who faithfully obeys.

This poem's for that precious boy
who grandma deeply loves;
there standing by her wheelchair
who she was speaking of.

This poem's for that pauper boy
whose grandma nodded "yes" -
when offered I, a loving sum.
She smiled and said "God bless".

This poem's for that speechless boy.
I turned to walk away
before the tears flowed from my eyes.
Then I began to pray.

This poem's for that special boy
I'll never see again;
but faithfully still pray for him...
before I say "Amen".

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Sunday, September 16, 2018

It's Irrefutable! 9-16-18


I may be very quiet
and gentler than a lamb -
but I'm a rose unopened
and just a bud, I am.
So therefore, you're loved more than me
'cause I'm not beautiful.
It's so unfair, unfair to me!
It's irrefutable!
---
I may be very quiet
and gentler than a lamb.
But now you see me open.
So beautiful, I am.
It is quite fair, quite fair to me
'cause I am beautiful.
Now I am loved much more than you.
It's irrefutable!
---
I may be very quiet
and gentler than a lamb -
but now I'm old and wilted,
ugly again, I am.
It's so unfair, unfair to me
'cause I'm not beautiful.
Once more you're loved much more than me!
It's irrefutable!
---
I may be very quiet
and gentler than a lamb -
but I'm a rose that's guilty.
Repenting now, I am.
It's so unfair, unfair to God.
It's He who's beautiful!
For I'm the one who blamed my God!
It's irrefutable!

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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