Tuesday, November 24, 2015

When Fighting Hate 11-24-15

Picture from: https://chazzw.wordpress.com/2012/03/17/the-missing-of-the-somme-geoff-dyer/

It matters much
when two hearts touch,
yet war has its demand.
When fighting hate,
my flag is great,
but some don't understand.

Now it's a shame
some played their games
while we were undermanned.
Through heat and cold,
we all were bold,
but some don't understand.

While taking flak,
I watched his back.
We fought them man to man.
It happened fast,
that deadly blast,
but some don't understand.

With comrade dead,
sad tears I shed.
It's not what we had planned.
It makes no sense,
my guilt's immense,
but some don't understand.

Arriving home
with war syndrome,
experienced firsthand.
It all seems wrong
with heroes gone,
but some don't understand.

I'll make it though,
disfigured so.
This is my wonderland.
It's God I need,
I do indeed,
but some don't understand.

It matters much
when two hearts touch,
but war has its demand.
When fighting hate,
our cause is great.
Still, some don't understand.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Sunday, November 22, 2015

On Winds Of Time 11-22-15

The beauty of that place was such
that I just hadn't mattered much.
Except for me, the trees were bright
with vibrant leaves.  Oh, what a sight!
The crowds would mingle and would rest
among the brightest and the best
where thoughts and dreams together meld
in beauty so unparalleled.

Those autumn trees would grin and shout,
"Hey, look at us.  Come check us out.
We've colored leaves for you to see."
And so it was for ev'ry tree -
except for me with branches bare.
I didn't brag.  I didn't dare -
for people laughed - and newlyweds
just rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

A boy yanked off my one last leaf,
then ran away - that little thief!
So there I stood, ignored, alone.
I was a poet tree, unknown.
Exposing all my worthless whims,
the breezes weaved around my limbs.
The days were long and getting cold.
I knew that I was growing old.

A gentleman came strolling by
who paused a bit.  I don't know why.
He was a man, quite elderly
who found an old leaf under me.
He picked it up and for a while,
I thought I saw a little smile.
He contemplated for a time
and then reread my dead leaf rhyme.

I'm not a poet tree, they say
so yes, my poems blow away.
But high in humble love they sail -
across the plains and over vale,
over seas and over shores,
before they rest near Heaven's doors.
They're found by men of humble heart
whose souls are touched and set apart.

Let colored leaves not camouflage
those covered trees that sabotage
the perfect rhymes of poet's love
which blow as snow from God above.
God's love is oftentimes disguised
from people who are mesmerized
by pretty leaves that promise bliss
and worlds of joy and happiness.

But seasons come and seasons go
as brooks and streams and rivers flow.
They never stop.  They never end.
If only man could comprehend.
For sailing from the empty trees
are tears of love inside the leaves.
So leaves as these are worth the rhyme
and fly along on winds of time.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Sunday, November 15, 2015

Cuckoo Clock 11-15-15

The time is almost 3 AM.
but I don't really care -
except the ticking of the clock
is more than I can bear.

The pendulum swings back and forth.
It doesn't ever sleep.
And neither have I had a wink,
(though I have counted sheep).

The tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick
is all it ever does.
A cuckoo clock is all it is
and all it ever was.

It can't jump off the wall and run.
That little bird can't fly.
She hasn't helped a single soul.
She's not as good as I.

So should I take her insults too?
She makes my stomach sour.
She says that I am cuckoo ev'ry
hour on the hour...

A burst of great emotions come
whenever she pops out -
and tells me I am cuckoo 'till
it makes me want to shout.

But then she quickly sneaks back in
and shuts her little door.
If only she could stay in there,
and not pop out at 4.

Her strong opinion does not change
and I know it won't end -
but I'll forgive that little bird.
She really is my friend.

And so I pull the weights back up
to give her one more day
to tell me I am cuckoo, 'cause -
that's all that she can say.

The time is almost 4 AM.
but I don't really care -
except the ticking of the clock
is more than I can bear.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Sunday, November 8, 2015

Doug, the Bug 11-8-15

"If I could elevate myself
and look down from the sky,
then I could see the facts of life
and learn of truth and lie."

Now that's what Doug, the Bug had thought.
He therefore went afoot -
t'ward great gigantic tree atop
its long and bulging root.

Then finally he started up.
That trunk had massive girth.
It seemed to be as solid as
the ground upon the earth.

He climbed the largest limb he found
and then the highest branch.
It all seemed very sturdy there.
It overlooked a ranch.

Back up, Doug glanced - and then he spied
the highest leaf of all!
And so he climbed some tiny twigs
which seemed quite weak and small.

"I'm almost there," he told himself,
"I'll rest on highest leaf."
At last that bug stood right on top
his firmly held belief.

Now Doug gripped tight, that little leaf
that he, himself, had earned.
And though he thought he knew it all,
one lesson hadn't learned.

You know, the truth is not always
the things that we can see.
Invisible, those autumn winds
had yanked that leaf from tree.

So Doug, the Bug was on his own.
He feared for his own soul -
and he was at the mercy of
that wicked wind's control.

He soared there on that wayward leaf
to places yet unknown -
then settled on a foreign ground
where he was all alone.

All winter he, in circles walked
and aimlessly did roam.
He shed such long repentant tears
but couldn't find his home.

He ran and cried and cried and ran -
then fell flat on his face.
Then God reached down and picked him up.
And that's what we call grace.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Sunday, November 1, 2015

Seven Words 11-1-15

(based on a true story)

Her son stepped to the pulpit with
some papers in his hand.
He cleared his throat and thought a bit,
but would they understand?

Would they know who mom really was?
Would they know they had fun?
Would they know mom loved God and prayed?
Would they know all she'd done?

Would they know she was always poor,
her pain and all her crying?
Would they know she helped little ones
with smiles and hugs while dying?

He laid, then, all the papers down
and peered up into Heaven.
Inside his mind he edited
his words right down to seven.

Would seven words explain it all
and would those words prevail -
there in each heart describing mom
in intimate detail?

Now friends and fam'ly waited for
her son with eager ears -
as he concluded all his thoughts
while holding back his tears.

He took a breath and slowly spoke
until his talk was done.
"Ev'ryone loved mom, because,
[my] mom loved ev'ryone."

He noticed many sparkles flash,
in each and ev'ry eye.
He gazed down at the casket then -
and said his last goodbye.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


God knows all corners of our minds.
He knows our subtle ways.
He knows the number of our hairs,
deceptions of our days.
But love connects both God and man -
the greatest and the last -
and son knew he would see her soon,
for time on earth flies fast.
©2015 louis gander

Monday, October 26, 2015

Meet My Friend, 'Love' 10-26-15

Hello there!  Meet my friend, 'Love'.
Inside my heart, He lives.
My other friends reside there too,
but my friend 'Love' forgives.

I have not done much for my 'Love' -
as my life was a mess.
And I remember my mistakes.
He loves me nonetheless.

'Love' does not tally up mistakes
that I have made before -
but 'Love' pours grace on all the more
and does not keep a score.

Ashamed, I am, when I think back
and wish I could divert
my thoughts and acts of selfishness
and all who I have hurt.

I often cry when I remember
all of my mistakes,
but 'Love' absorbs my pain and guilt
and does whate'er it takes.

'Love' can't reside in angry hearts
that it finds hard and cold,
but rather in the humble heart,
now whether young or old.

Atrocities of sinful man
just guts my inner soul -
but 'Love' is great and 'Love' is good
and 'Love' is in control.

Though 'Love' allows imperfect man
to make a sinful choice,
He cleared a path of perfect peace
so we can all rejoice.

Words can't express the joy I feel
and all I'm thinking of -
for God's the great creator and
He is the God of 'Love'.

I'm pleased that you have met my 'Love'.
Does 'Love' reside in you?
If you love others as yourself
then 'Love' is your friend too.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


1 John 4:8 (NASB)
8 The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love.

Mark 12:30-31 (NASB)
30 and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
and with all your soul,
and with all your mind,
and with all your strength.’
31 The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’
There is no other commandment greater than these.”

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

To Gardens Yet Unknown 10-20-15

Beneath the calm and quiet sky
two butterflies go drifting by -
as yellow as the sun.
A wild flower bends a bit
as one has temporarily lit.
The other joins in fun.

Then off again they wing with task
but yet, so playfully I ask,
Are they that much in love?
They look to be, or so it seems,
alive inside their unique dreams
which float so high above.

It's if they taunt, it's if they tease
my little world of memories,
that we lived long ago.
Those treasured thoughts of yesteryear
still seem so recent, seem so near,
I'll never let them go.

Their presence here is so worthwhile
I find myself with pleasant smile,
though I sit all alone.
Then finally, they both take flight
to other places out of sight,
to gardens yet unknown.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Thursday, October 15, 2015

How Beautiful! 10-15-15

How beautiful, the autumn day!
How beautiful, the trees!
How beautiful, the up-stretched limbs!
How beautiful, their leaves!
How beautiful, the sunlit skies!
How beautiful, the rays!
How beautiful, creation's peace!
How beautiful, the days!

So beautiful, the season's end
when I breathe my last breath.
Because, when I'm at Heaven's door,
how beautiful, earth's death!
You see, this earth was all I knew.
Earth died so I'd arrive
to dreams too unbelievable -
in Heaven's world, alive!

How beautiful when Winter's past!
How beautiful the Spring!
How beautiful the Angels are!
How beautiful they sing!
How beautiful my Jesus is!
How beautiful His face!
How beautiful His perfect love!
How beautiful His grace!

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Great Democratic Debate, The 10-13-15

With crowd, ecstatic, you might think
that truth might finally win.
But no, deceptions lingered on
in shallow, selfish din.

The candidates deceive us all.
Pet projects, each discusses.
They came to this, the 'Great Debate'
in jets and campaign buses.

The smiles they wore were painted on.
So sly, those hungry foxes.
And all of them were standing tall
on top of their soapboxes.
The 'stomach' growled greedily,
"Hey, I'll do much more taxing.
I'll gouge the ones who go to work
so you can be relaxing."

The 'hand' said, "I will snatch the purse
of ev'ry working man.
I'll give you fruits of their hard work.
Now do you understand?"

The 'tongue' spoke up quite sharply then,
"You've heard me, one and all!
Benghazi, no, is not my fault -
because I don't recall...
I fell down and hit my head
before that legal hearings.
I would've shown up if I hadn't
lost my fav'rite earings.
I'll tell that hearing anything -
and lie, for goodness sake -
Who cares about ambassadors?
What difference does it make?
We need a woman president!
We need a leader NOW!
We need to have a first "first man"
I need you to allow...
me to be a president.  Because I've always wanted
to be since smoking pot in college with Bill..
And I don't care if this rhymes or not

(The moderator covered this
with manufactured cough.
And when the viewers had enough
they turned their TVs off.)

We do not need a woman.
transvestite, or a man.
We do not need a socialist
but someone true who can.
We don't need someone 'statesman-like'
but rather someone real.
If not, we'll some day be blown up
by bad atomic deal.

Now even if we save the whales
and stop all soil erosion -
global warming we will get
with nuclear explosion.
Yes, 'presidential' they may look
and 'presidential' sound -
but what they do is critical
for answers to be found.

The Constitution has them all -
so maybe we should look.
Love country this time.  Let us not
elect another crook.
The last one you had voted in,
in EV'RY aspect failed -
then violated sev'ral laws!
So why is he not jailed?

Now here's another "great" debate.
With empty words, each shares...
What diff'rence does it really make?
It tells me this:  Who cares?

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Saturday, October 10, 2015

I Want To Share 10-10-15

I once thought I was happy 'cause
I had good friends and cars.
And sadly, so mistaken, I
would visit clubs and bars.
Though I was locked in sins distress,
I thought surroundings true.
And nothing said could make me change.
No, nothing else would do.

Sin won its way deceiving me.
Its lies chained me to walls.
I thought my life successful 'til
I heard those whispered calls...
Throughout my life, I heard those words -
but sin allowed no choice.
A question echoed "Who are you?"
I heard in my own voice.
Yes, in a rut, I lived my life -
in dungeon, it had seemed.
But nothing changed, no matter how,
how loud that I had screamed.

That cold, dark dungeon seemed to speak -
so then I'd laugh and joke.
But scoffing echoed back at me
each time that I had spoke.

Then through sins darkness, I had heard
a key that seemed to cry.
The lock had turned in agony
but I had not known why.

From dungeon's depth, a creak I heard.
That heavy-laden door
unlocked to let a crack of light
expose me on that floor.

Light filtered through the musty dust
that hung thick in the air.
I, for the first time, realized
how pointless it was there.

And so it was, I saw myself
in my dark world of sin.
I smelled the odor of my life
and felt the filth within.

The shackles, I myself had locked,
weighed heavy on my legs.
But even if, I wanted out -
who'd hear my humble begs?

And then those rusty hinges squeaked -
above the rust rebelling.
"Forgive them Father!" I had heard
against cries, screams and yelling!

I held my hands tight to my ears.
So deafening, the riot!
Then suddenly, a stillness came -
and everything grew quiet.

Then once again, I heard that voice -
yet... no one I could see.
But oh, the freedom I had felt
when chains fell off of me!

I made my way toward ray of light.
So weak, I had to crawl.
As dungeon's door kept opening -
more light of truth I saw.

I then confessed all black and white
and ev'ry shade of gray!
I saw rich colors in His world!
I saw the light of day!

I saw His palms, His nail scars -
then cried through my repentance!
That breath of fresh air woke me up!
It all made perfect sense!

The brightness of His rainbow-ed world
was more than I could bear!
He raised me up onto my feet -
so now I want to share.

I want to share to those I see -
so proud of their new cars -
inviting me to ride with them
to parties and to bars.

There's too much thrill in Jesus' arms
to go back to those chains.
And even through my failures here,
God's love for me remains.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


And Can It Be
Text: Charles Wesley, 1707-1788
Music: Thomas Campbell 
Tune: SAGINA, Meter: 88.88.88 with Repeat

1. And can it be that I should gain 
an interest in the Savior's blood! 
Died he for me? who caused his pain! 
For me? who him to death pursued? 
Amazing love! How can it be 
that thou, my God, shouldst die for me? 
Amazing love! How can it be 
that thou, my God, shouldst die for me? 

2. 'Tis mystery all: th' Immortal dies! 
Who can explore his strange design? 
In vain the firstborn seraph tries 
to sound the depths of love divine. 
'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore; 
let angel minds inquire no more. 
'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore; 
let angel minds inquire no more. 

3. He left his Father's throne above 
(so free, so infinite his grace!), 
emptied himself of all but love, 
and bled for Adam's helpless race. 
'Tis mercy all, immense and free, 
for O my God, it found out me! 
'Tis mercy all, immense and free, 
for O my God, it found out me! 

4. Long my imprisoned spirit lay, 
fast bound in sin and nature's night; 
thine eye diffused a quickening ray; 
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light; 
my chains fell off, my heart was free, 
I rose, went forth, and followed thee. 
My chains fell off, my heart was free, 
I rose, went forth, and followed thee. 

5. No condemnation now I dread; 
Jesus, and all in him, is mine; 
alive in him, my living Head, 
and clothed in righteousness divine, 
bold I approach th' eternal throne, 
and claim the crown, through Christ my own. 
Bold I approach th' eternal throne, 
and claim the crown, through Christ my own.