Saturday, February 25, 2017

He Showers Me 2-25-17

Jamestown Flood Aftermath 1889

A promise is forever
but words so quickly fade.
They echo once or twice but then
are lost under the shade -
of long abandoned good intents
from where I've long since strayed.

Oh, how can I live sincere life
when failed I, this exam?
Oh, how can I live honest life
when it is but a sham?
And how can promise now be kept
with water over dam?

Embarrassed I, now drop my head
ashamed to show my face.
And guilty I, cry out in vain
that I am in this place.
But then, what does my Savior do?
He showers me with grace!

©2017 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Friday, February 3, 2017

A Lonely Poem 2-3-17


THERE ARE so many others that can start a loud stampede
of people running after them so that they all can read
the script of rhymes that fascinate their scrutinizing minds
to entertain emotions - emotions of all kinds.

But I am just a lonely poem buried here inside
a dusty book unsuited and unable to provide
a morsel of excitement to those readers I can't see.
They're browsing here, undoubtedly, on either side of me.

My words are like a dried up rose with bent and broken stem -
and that's why I'm a lonely poem, unlike the rest of them.
It's dark inside this dusty book.  Forever, I will stay -
yet wonder, will I ever see the sunny light of day?

Rejected, I'm compelled to cry, but that I can't condone,
because my ink would surely run and I'd still be alone.
So tears I hold.  I'm saddened so.  In loneliness I shout!
And I'll be stuck here up until they come and throw me out.

I prayed that you would find my words because God answers prayers.
He knows my good intentions and I know He always cares.
So when my prayers are answered and you read my story rhymes,
I pray that we can just be friends and see some good ol' times.

And though you will not see me smile, please know that I'll be glad.
and pray one day we'll find these times the best we've ever had.
But if, by chance, another poem's your fav'rite one instead,
I pray my words go with you when again, I go unread.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Lonely 1-21-17


Except for chirping bird or two
it's quiet in the park.
I hear my feet move through the grass
and soon it will be dark.

The air is calm and quiet here
and everything seems tame,
but world has turned me up-side-down
and nothing is the same.

Elusive is the rainbow's end.
My feet are much too slow.
And lost forever are the smiles
of friends so long ago.

My hands can't catch what finds my nose,
and empty they are still.
They cannot catch the fragrance of
an outdoor charcoal grille.

I cannot grasp the beautiful,
the clouds, so cottony.
And children who play much too loud
but such a sight to see.

My fingers cannot seem to touch
the treasures in my mind.
It seems they're much too feeble now
to touch what once had rhymed.

My arms are weak and cannot wrap
around the ocean's roar,
and lost are thoughtful special hugs.
My children are no more.

My legs can't seem to carry me.
My body's on the brink.
But my mind's like the sharpest tack -
and I can surely think.

Now if you'd listen for a bit,
I'd love so much to share,
but loneliness shares memory
of which you're unaware.

Because you like to socialize,
you laugh your days away -
and that way you don't have to live
a single lonely day.

I wonder if you only care
about your happenings -
the drama you create each day
and other petty things.

Forgive me for my selfishness,
I should have thought things through.
I'm sorry that I speak of that
instead of only you.

Except for chirping bird or two
it's lonely in the park.
I hear my feet move through the grass
and soon it will be dark.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Ball Of Fuzz 1-1-17



I stared in vain through window pane
as I was on my own.
And lonely I, would sometimes cry
as I sat here alone.

The wind was wild and snow had piled
up high on window sill.
Yet I was warm despite the storm,
despite infrequent chill.

My eyes in blur, saw something stir.
I raced outside to see.
It was a sight.  I held it tight
and said, "You're safe with me."

So cold she was.  I know because
she shivered for an hour.
Sad eyes were blue and hungry too.
She drank, though milk was sour.

Then trusting she, laid down on me -
curled tightly in my lap.
So soft her fur and quiet purr.
She took a prolonged nap.

As seasons came, she was the same -
so tame, so loving, swell.
And so it was, I know because
my mem-ry serves me well.

She was a friend right to the end
and trusting as could be.
Though snow had blown, the sun once shone
on ball of fuzz and me.

I stare in vain through window pane.
Again, I'm on my own.
And lonely I, will sometimes cry
as I sit here alone.

©2017 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Giving Is Joy 12-10-16


Putting on hat.  Yanking on boots.
Pulling on gloves.  Basket of fruits.

Opening door.  Holding on tight.
Wind hits my face.  Everything's white..

Weather is bad.  Comforts forgo.
Making my way.  Footprints in snow.

Taking short steps.  Carefully now.
Slipped on some ice.  I'm not sure how.

Old narrow road.  Old man like me.
Walking along.  Something to see.

Tall leafless trees.  Stretching above.
Creator's art.  Painted with love.

Deep heavy snow.  Bushes weighed down.
Bright colored lights.  Almost sundown.

Cold seizes breath.  Fingers are numb.
Now getting close.  Music has come.

Christmas music.  Melodies sweet.
Memory's peace.  Always complete.

Up a few steps.  Knock on the door.
Greeted with smile.  Warm wooden floor.

Welcomed inside.  Rosy red face.
'O Holy Night'.  Snug fireplace.

More Christmas songs.  Humble abode.
Gift of fresh fruit.  Nothing is owed.

Kindness is sweet.  "Thank you's" are said.
Then back at home.  Ready for bed.

Said I, a prayer.  "Making new friend.
Giving is joy.  Pays dividend."

©2016 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Saturday, December 3, 2016

I'm Ready, You Bet! 12-8-16


I was with Jesus when He healed the ear.
It's then that I found that I hadn't a fear.

Jesus asked, Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
But I said- with a drop of sweat on my brow,
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready yet."

I was with Jesus when He was arrested.
It's then I found out that I had been tested.

Jesus asked, Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
But I said- with a drop of sweat on my brow,
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready yet."

I was with Jesus when He had been judged.
It's then, by Him, I felt I'd been nudged.

Jesus asked, Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
But I said- with a drop of sweat on my brow,
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready yet."

I was with Jesus when He had been whipped.
It's then I found out that I had been skipped.

Jesus asked, Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
But I said- with a drop of sweat on my brow,
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready yet."

I was with Jesus when they took all He had.
It's then that I found out that He wasn't bad.

Jesus asked, Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
But I said- with a drop of sweat on my brow,
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready yet."

I was with Jesus when they nailed Him tight -
It made me just sick just to see such a sight.

Jesus asked, Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
But I said- with a drop of sweat on my brow,
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready yet."

I was with Jesus when He called out to God.
It's then I felt that this all seemed quite odd.

Jesus asked, Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
But I said- with a drop of sweat on my brow,
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready yet."

I was with Jesus when He was sealed in the tomb.
I felt very guilty, surrounded by gloom.

A voice echoed, "Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
But I said- with a drop of sweat on my brow,
"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready yet."

I was with Jesus when He rose from the dead.
It's then I felt better, much better instead.

Jesus asked, Will you follow me now?
Are you ready to pay your debt?"
And I said, while wiping the sweat from my brow,
"Oh yes I am ready!  I'm ready, you bet!"

But He said, "Don't bother.  I have in your place."
It's then I learned love and infinite grace.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Cabin Of Logs 12-03-16

Myakka River State Park, FL (Cabin 4)

So far, far away from the bright city lights
down a dusty and old gravel road -
was a quaint little cabin built of full logs.
where nary a rafter was bowed.

So sturdy and stately it stood among trees.
It's woodwork was sawn and rough-cut.
The spring on the screen door resisted my pull.
I stepped in and door had slammed shut.

It seemed to be saying, "I don't want you here"
protesting that I had stepped in.
But I hadn't listened to what it had said,
consumed by the cabin within.

Such workmanship done by archaic tools
was special and second to none.
Amazed, I imagined a pile of logs,
then stacking them all one by one.

Outside I heard chirping from one nearby marsh.
The palms seemed to tower too high.
The trails went on for mile after mile
while groups of great egret walked by.

From grasses quite tall to warm river banks,
on white sands or next to a tree,
the gators would thankfully come and then go
and have little int'rest in me.

As days would wind down the chill would set in.
I'd gather up good burning wood.
So many old thoughts would go through my head
that only my God understood.

A couple of hours before the sunrise,
made time for a long morning prayer.
The flames from the brick and stone fireplace
had warmed up the crisp, wintry air.

The orange dancing flames were having such fun
and seemed to not tire at all.
As radiant heat would rise from the hearth,
dark shadows would dance on the wall.

I stared out the panes of the old window glass.
The view was a sight to behold.
I treasure the pictures I burned in my mind
in thoughts much too hard to be told.

The days were so peaceful.  The nights black as coal.
Enjoyed I, each moment I had.
But then the day came when I had to leave
and yes, it had made my heart sad.

I packed up my clothes and I swept out the place.
My stomach was knotted somewhat.
The spring on the screen door resisted my push.
I stepped out and door had slammed shut.

It seemed to be saying that it changed its mind
and thought it quite rude that I leave.
But it didn't know that I'd rather stay there
and it'd never know that I grieve.

I drove that dusty and old gravel road
straight-way to the city of lights.
But heart was not with me.  I left it back there -
with the cabin of logs and the sights.

©2016 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Sunday, November 27, 2016

A Great Big Heart 11-27-16


Here sitting on an old park bench,
I watched the folks walk by.
They scurried here and scurried there
for something else to buy.

Surrounded by bright colored lights
were reindeer and a sleigh.
I saw a girl searching 'round
and this I heard her say,

"I can't find Jesus anywhere.
The stable's not in view.
The shepherds should be somewhere here.
The wise men should be too.

"Where is Christmas?  Where is Christmas?"
she came to me and asked.
To answer her great question seemed
a hopeless, futile task.

I thought awhile before reply.
I hoped it would suffice.
I felt so dumb and speechless but
I offered this advice.

"You know that Christmas isn't Santa,
nor presents under tree.
It isn't fancy colored lights
nor anything we see.

"You can't find Christmas in the mall
or here along the street.
And Christmas isn't green or red.
All that is just deceit.

"Impressed, I am, how smart you are.
You question everything.
I'm glad you know of Jesus' birth
and why the church bells ring.

"No, Christmas isn't what they think
and these folks must admit -
if Christmas isn't in their hearts,
they'll simply never find it."

She stood there quiet for a bit,
then turned and walked away.
She walked in thought quite slowly, so
I prayed she was okay.

I hoped I didn't puzzle her
or tear her dreams apart...
But then she turned, called back to me,
"I have a great big heart!"

I didn't see her after that
but knew she'd be okay.
This bench and I hold memories
as others run astray.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Saturday, November 19, 2016

You Know Me Well 11-19-16


My breath on pane
is all in vain.
It's bitter cold outside.
With fog on glass,
the hours pass.
I swallow deep, my pride.

The plume atop
my quill would stop
with only me to thank.
There are no herds
of rhyming words.
My frozen mind is blank.

I pray to God
but find it odd
that rhyme's don't come to me.
At any cost
I am so lost.
Is this just meant to be?

But it is rare,
that I would dare
to leave before I write.
Though inkwell's here
words disappear
on parchment through the night.

Not thinking 'prose'
my words are froze
just as it is outdoors -
with barren trees
all stripped of leaves,
like extinct dinosaurs.

Now I confess
that I digress
from what I want to say.
It sure does seem
I'm losing steam.
My poem drifts away.

Should I explore
my mind some more -
that's vast as the frontier -
or let you think
I'm out of ink
and end this poem here?

Oh, what's the use
for such a truce?
I'm finished anyhow.
I sure can tell
you know me well.
You're raising one eyebrow.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Come With Me 11-12-16


Please come with me while we stand tall
and give to those awaiting call
who haven't any hope.
My tears run as a waterfall,
pour off my cheeks for one and all.
I don't know how they cope.

Now Susie is a dancer
She's nine, but now has cancer.
She's on a newer drug.
The days are slow.  She sits alone
'tween night and day in twilight zone.
She needs someone to hug.

Meet David with clef palate
who plays on old wood pallet
each long and boredom day.
His mother doesn't have a house.
He's shy and quiet as a mouse
and has nothing to say.

Meet Bobby Jean who's starving -
while turkeys we are carving -
for our Thanksgiving feast.
She needs some clothes and needs a bath.
She did not choose this endless path.
Of these, she is the 'least'.

Meet the Muslim boy, Abdul.
He's beaten hard and it's so cruel.
He studies the Koran.
If you were him, you would be too
and studying a twisted view
to be an evil man.

Please come with me while we stand tall
and give to those awaiting call
who haven't any hope.
My tears run as a waterfall,
pour off my cheeks for one and all.
I don't know how they cope.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------