Poetry and Prose

WELCOME! Feel free to print out poems you enjoy if copyright is included. Use in sermons, Bible studies, place in bulletins, etc. I do not make any money on my poetry so is not to be used for resale. I write simply to expose God's love to make this world a better place. I am honored if you 'share', 'tweet', bookmark and/or follow. Thank You & enjoy! ~louis gander

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

In the Know 4-15-14

When we can't cope and we've no hope to face another day,
because desires of the liars have the legal say.
When money speaks, lawyers' techniques will find the crooked way -
to bend the rules with legal tools demanding us to pay.

When we can't flee and we can't see a silver lining's ray,
'cause the cancer of the answer requires us to pay.
There's no support for truth in court.  It's in such disarray.
With judges bought, the crooks aren't caught.  It's now their evil way.

I'd like to live more positive with poems optimistic,
but I'm the fool they've treated cruel and they all make me sick.
Their lobbyists just can't resist to bribe them flush with dough.
The rest of us don't make a fuss.  We work, yet owe and owe.

God's in control of every soul and hell they'll surely see.
Do not think twice, take my advice and come along with me.
Starting today I'm on my way to take back Washington.
Begin again.  This time we'll win.  We've only just begun.

There's Huckabee, Trey Gowdy - and don't forget Rand Paul.
Ben Carson, Sarah Palin - and of course there's Bobby Jindal.
There's many more we can vote for, who haven't sold their soul -
to those elite who like to cheat and have no self-control.

'Goliath' fights but we have rights that only come from God.
Now 'in the know', our numbers grow- as we hold sovereign sod.
If it's a war they're asking for, then we have yet to fight it.
So get on board to our reward- protecting our Republic.

©2014 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Sunday, March 30, 2014

By the Bushel 3-30-14

Two weeks and a day since mom passed away.
Tomorrow will be yet another.
Tears run down my cheeks each time someone speaks
and mentions my dear ol' mother.

For many long years she shed many tears
for the lost and the lame and the weak.
And sitting beside, I would see them in stride
zig-zag down her long wrinkled cheek.

I can't change the facts and cannot relax
understanding that life must go on.
As long as I'm living, I must be forgiving
and add to what mom built upon.

Before laid to rest, my mom did her best.
She loved God with all of her heart.
And right now she's givin' her love there in Heaven.
What time should the rest of us start?

To save someone's soul was her greatest goal.
The joy on her face would abound.
She wasn't contented until friends repented
and peace everlasting was found.

My mom, she was special.  She filled by the bushel,
such love, her incessant desire.
Though it overflowed, her love never slowed
as she piled it higher and higher.

©2014 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Sunday, March 16, 2014

Perfect Mom, The 3-16-14


My words describe so many things, each one beside another
and words explain so very much but can't describe my mother.

A photo’s worth a thousand words, each word, a pound of letters;
but mother exceeds the sunsets, and pounds of gold from debtors.

A million smiles can't match her worth. She carries loving scars.
Her gifts surpass bright rainbows' arcs. Her value exceeds stars.

My mother is very special and the only one I'll get.
But I'm the one she could afford. I love her quite a bit.

So what explains my mother now? What in my vast report?
And what describes my mother when my many words fall short?

We shared so many memories, our hearts shared many years;
so what describes my mother is - the love within my tears...

©2008 louis gander
Ruth 1925 - 2014
In remembrance of my mom...

Escorted by the rising tide that I no longer see,
I don't look back to shores again I know will never be.
The garden gate has opened up and I am ushered to
the freshest, fragrant flowers with the deepest velvet hue.

The vibrant colors beckon me as I think back with ease,
recalling garden flowers there ...but nothing such as these.
Has Eden's garden multiplied a million trillion times?
The choir voices carry on as I hear echoed chimes.

No wheelchair or blindness now.  No pain cuts through my face.
I take my lively buoyant steps on paths that prove His grace.
I feel just like a child again.  I jump and skip and hop
as landscapes go forever here with beauty that's non-stop.

The vivid 'reds' are deeper and the 'yellows' brighter still.
The roses, and the daffodils and other flowers fill -
the contours of the garden knolls with colored trees of fall.
The sunshine brightens everything ...and now I see it all.

I glide now ever closer to an everlasting brook
meandering the lily pads that my attention took.
Every scene and every sight is pleasingly outstanding.
The peace that overtakes me now still passes understanding.

The sweetened fragrance envelopes me in this special place -
and all of Heav'n around me here reflects His shining face.
I hear His soft familiar voice that whispers in my ear,
"There's nothing here to worry you, there's nothing here to fear."

©2014 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


I Come To The Garden Alone

I come to the garden alone 
While the dew is still on the roses 
And the voice I hear falling on my ear 
The Son of God discloses. 

And He walks with me, and He talks with me, 
And He tells me I am His own; 
And the joy we share as we tarry there, 
None other has ever known. 

He speaks, and the sound of His voice, 
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing, 
And the melody that He gave to me 
Within my heart is ringing. 

And He walks with me, and He talks with me, 
And He tells me I am His own; 
And the joy we share as we tarry there, 
None other has ever known. 

I'd stay in the garden with Him 
Though the night around me be falling, 
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe 
His voice to me is calling. 

And He walks with me, and He talks with me, 
And He tells me I am His own; 
And the joy we share as we tarry there, 
None other has ever known.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Memory Wrinkles 2-26-14

Whene'er I view God's mighty trees,
small sparrows, tiny birds,
my wrinkles bring back mem'ries that
are hard to put in words.

I sit close by my window sill
with crinkled memories.
I look out as I reminisce.
Some drop me to my knees.

Yes, those I'd just as soon forget
but pleased I am with most,
Each wrinkle is a mem'ry though.
With some, I love to boast.

Now here's a very special one,
when wedding dress was worn,
and this, another perfect one,
the day my child was born.

The time my child was married off,
a sight you'd have to see,
the birth of my granddaughter too,
the day she walked to me.

This wrinkle here had really hurt -
and it is yet 'unspoken'.
It caused me many, many tears -
my heart so sadly broken.

Oh, how can people hurt so much?
It is the worst of crimes.
And down on knees I prayed and prayed
so many, many times.

It seemed that I was so alone
those many, many years.
I wept and grieved all by myself
in all my lonely tears.

Yes, time and time again I prayed.
I said life wasn't fair.
I didn't think God heard my voice.
I wasn't sure He cared.

One day with Bible in my lap,
I started reading when,
a verse had stuck; was thirty-one
in Matthew, chapter ten.

Oh, I have mem'ry wrinkles, sure,
from small to deepest one,
but every day brings greater joy -
when shines, God's morning sun.

Whene'er I view God's mighty trees,
small sparrows, tiny birds,
my wrinkles bring back mem'ries that
are hard to put in words.

©2014 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Matthew 10:31 (KJV)
"Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows."

Thursday, February 20, 2014

The Mighty Ship 2-20-14

A brand new car, a hand-held game
or other things we chose,
a TV set, a picture frame
or nice designer clothes,

possessions each- and all the toys,
with every single day,
will rot or rust as earth destroys -
and simply waste away.

Of great importance, though, the chore
to grow the love of 'greed'.
Yes, bigger- better- greater- more,
so water, we, our needs.
(now to the spiritual...)
No sea or ocean under moon
to put a ship afloat -
and twilight comes much, much too soon
to build a mighty boat.
While aimlessly, the world roams,
surprised, I hear the Lord,
"The mighty ship is sailing home.
It's time to get aboard."
So swiftly, on my journey, go
here on this mighty ship -
and left behind, all those I know.
I sail my final trip.
Securely, though, on ship thereof,
upon the mighty sea,
I find myself in arms of love -
and earth has ceased to be.
(and back to the physical...)
It's all 'the rage' so hey, come on!
Be noticed!  That's our goal!
With make-up and great outfit on,
who cares about the soul?

Contoured, the fields of corn and hay,
the winds bring season's fall.
A few have learned the real way -
are humbled through it all.

The sun has lost its grip to west
and darkness now draws nigh.
Are we prepared to be His guest?
Are we prepared to die?

©2014 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


My father was told that it was midnight and time to go to sleep,
moments later (before passing away), my father responded
with his last words- that he had to get on the boat first.
Let's all get on the ship.  We're heading home.


Matthew 6:16-24 (NASB)

16 “Whenever you fast, do not put on a gloomy face as the hypocrites do, for they neglect their appearance so that they will be noticed by men when they are fasting. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full. 17 But you, when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face 18 so that your fasting will not be noticed by men, but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.

19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; 21 for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

22 “The eye is the lamp of the body; so then if your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light. 23 But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!

24 “No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.


God calls all parents, daughters, sons
from every earthly nation.
Get aboard, you weary ones,
don't worship mere creation.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Winks and Smiles 2-16-14

Depressed I was, at all my plight, in God's creation bright.
Confused and then intrigued I was, before I saw the light.

The rainbow winked at mustard seed, the mustard seed at tree.
The tree winked at the lily then, and lily at the bee.
The bee winked at the honey and the honey at the sun -
and then the sunshine winked at me, the sad and lonely one.

Asked I, "What's all this winking- this winking all about?"
And that's when God's creation welled and started then to shout,
"We're free!  We're free, to do all that we can!
And we've no need to shed the tears of smart, but sinful man!"
I asked them, how in unison, their spirits could be raised -
and questioned the beginnings of such kind and winking ways...

The bee said that the honey glowed and smiled at everyone.
The lily said the honey bee had smiled when he was done.
The lily smiled at the tree, the tree at mustard seed.
The mustard seed smiled at the warmth that did its gracious deed.

Said rainbow then, "I promise you, the sun had smiled like this."
And that's when God's own sunshine had, embraced me in its kiss.

©2014 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Friday, February 14, 2014

Poetry 2-14-14

I sometimes think, "Why waste the ink on many lines of rhyme?
And is it right to sit and write just wasting precious time?
This exercise is just a guise if few come here to read.
A dream it was and all because I wanted to succeed.
I know I ought, but thoughts are naught.  I'm running out of steam.
I'm having fits of knowing it's a nightmare, not a dream.
So 'what's the use?'  That's my excuse to set aside my pen.
With water cup, I'll hang it up and never write again."

I must admit that I'm unfit to write another day!
Vast thoughts were stored for you dear Lord yet I've no words to say!
But plant the seed...?  I must indeed, then watch as letters flow -
out into phrasing so amazing that all readers know -
these poems shine 'cause they're not mine!  It's God who writes each poem!
He guides my pen, again, again until the soul can know Him!
I used to think, "Why waste the ink on poetry and such?"
But if the goal's to save the soul, it matters very much.

©2014 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Monday, February 10, 2014

For He Deserves 2-10-14

I drew attention to myself
and never thought it odd -
until I heard the compliments
that should have been for God.

So I have changed my attitude
and changed my wicked ways -
that I might focus on my God -
for He deserves all praise!

©2014 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Sunday, February 9, 2014

I'd Gladly Trade 2-9-14

I run around to get things done.  It often makes me sad.
I'd gladly trade these times today for those my grandma1 had.
The world is changing rapidly and keep up, I cannot.
I have so many gadgets now I don't know all I've got.
Yes, I would listen to her words and all she had to say.
Enjoyed, we did, our daily chores each moment of the day.
Now after reading verses in my brand new Testament,
she asked if I had finished chores.  I knew just what she meant.

Yes, all the chores- not some of them.  I didn't need a list.
It was a job to milk ol' 'Horns'2 and not the easiest.
I'd throw the feed to chickens as they scampered on their legs.
I'd move the mother hens aside and gather their warm eggs.

Ingredients, my grandma took, that she had 'round about.
She mixed them all together in odd ways she figured out.
That rich aroma stole my nose with all her baking done -
and to this day I don't know how she always beat the sun.

She made an extra pumpkin pie just for the neighbor folk.
I listened most intently to my grandma when she spoke.
The days were hot and work was hard while sweat would soak our clothes
but never were there better days than when I think of those.

Before her home3 was torn down I had memorized them all -
each of Ten Commandments that hung squarely on her wall.
The great depression took its toll and she had lost to banks -
but she took time to pray each day to give our Savior thanks.
The world is changing rapidly. I don't know what to say,
but this I know- I cried and cried the day she passed away.
I run around to get things done.  It often makes me sad
and gladly trade these times today for those my grandma had.

©2014 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


1 Grandma (Ida M. (Goplin) McDermott - 12/21/1896 to 3/10/1990.
2 'Horns' was really named 'Horney' and was the meanest of all the cows on the small farms my grandparents Homer and Ida owned (but she was still milked nonetheless).
3 Grandma's farm house had stood at North Clayton, WI. 
Ida's 50 acres
Clayton, WI
43° 23.542', -90° 43.685'

Homer's 200 acres
15044-15452 Vance Rd
Gays Mills, WI 54631
43° 21.017', -90° 47.780'

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Until God Says 2-6-14

Oh, once upon a time there was a disciplined young lad
who didn't have the things that all the other children had.
So they would joke and laugh at him.  They really were quite bad.

Now they would taunt and tease and shove, or trip him in the hall.
The boys would always choose him last when they had played kickball
and what they really thought of him was way below them all.

Oh, how he'd try to please them though.  He'd try and try and try.
Their cruelty had followed him but he did not know why.
So many times he'd find a quiet, private place to cry.

Appreciated, he was not - nor would they, him, acknowledge.
With parents poor, he went to work and gained a little knowledge.
For over forty years he worked.  He never went to college.

And then he lost his whole life's work with cozened lawyers' pens.
And then he lost his business too, his family and his friends.
And then he lost his home and health and couldn't make amends.

Although life was depressing and- nobody seemed to care,
he prayed and prayed and prayed some more escaping this despair.
And then he did some writing- just a poem here and there.

He writes to help the "least of these" and sometimes just for fun.
He'll write and write and write some more until God says he's done.
And that, my friends, is why he writes.  He even wrote this one.

©2014 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED