America! 11-27-12

They're Patriots, they're fighting!  But Lord, who understands?

Their gift to heirs was liberty, was fragile in their hands.

A liberty that's priceless and was paid with hero's blood,

 but liberty that's fragile and as latent as a bud.

Some day the waves of grain will grow in nation gold and bright -

 but now the revolution's fight is questioned whether right...

I see a sacrifice so great, from will that never bends,
I see the loss of families, their farms and closest friends.

I see that they were tested greatly under Washington -

and they were tested all the more in battle that was won.

Yes, tested with the seasons that brought hot and cold extremes,

and tested with great trials that had crushed the smallest dreams.

So many lost a limb or two.  Some others met their grave,

but great were all the freedoms that to us they freely gave.

Now we'd enjoy these freedoms, if - we care to really own

and guard with every vote so that our freedoms could be sown -

to later generations that would seize the free baton -

to hold our fragile liberties so freedom carries on.

Years later, I saw clamoring and stumbling unsure -

and one by one God-given rights were trampled here under -

the feet of every voter who demanded more and more -

the money clear from Washington 'til all of us were poor.

They argued, as in protest and they fervently appealed,

to eat up necessary seed for next year's harvest yield -

and voted for more cretins who would place their final bet

on wasteful obligations that would pile up more debt.

Naive we are and so deceived with all the 'pc' spin,

"He'll give you lots more money if you'll simply vote for him!"

They buy our selfish, greedy votes and bribe us all until

elected, they're securely fixed right there up on 'The Hill'.

So arrogant, those cretins are, that they need never hide.

They know their office is secure and wear this thing called 'pride'.

They promise us a silver moon (that's moldy old swiss cheese -

with holes in thick promises that shift there with the breeze).

So powerless we all become when they tie up our hands.

They hasten us and chasten us - yet no one understands..!

There's just no more that we can give, for they have taken all -

in taxes, fines and hidden fees, licenses, et al.

They rushed so quickly to the aid of those too big to fail -

and then ignored the rest of us that they refused to bail.

Collecting campaign contributions from the greedy ones -

they then give them the very last of our few meager funds.

Refusing to repent and out beyond the furthest hope,

I see a country dangling from an unforgiving rope -

from poor results that legalized and drove our morals loose.

I see inflated, selfish heads above a tightened noose.

The feet still kick and wiggle as we take our final breath -

and offer no assurance from a sad and certain death -

because we still refuse the God of patient, certain wrath!

Oh, how can we complain when "we, the people" chose our path?

We've mortgaged off the waves of grain and every native park!

We've mortgaged every standing tree - the branches, trunks and bark!

We've mortgaged off Mount Rushmore and the Lady Liberty -

who shines so very beautiful!  It's pure insanity!!

I see a sacrifice so great - but our 'will' never bends.

We lose our farms and families - we lose our closest friends.

I see we're harshly tested from a Washington DC -

and we'll be tested all the more until our freedoms see...

We're Patriots!  We're fighting!  But Lord, who understands?

Our gift to heirs, true liberty, is fragile in our hands.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Little Elf 11-20-12

Mischievous, the little one -

the selfish, little elf -

the one who looks and listens for

the things which help himself.

Though brilliant colors are defined,

I'm blind and cannot see.

Since birth my world was always dark.

I ask myself, "Why me?"

My doctor says there is no hope.

No music will there be.

My world is quiet.  I can't hear.

I ask myself, "Why me?"

I've worked my fingers to the bone.

I've paid each tax and fee.

But now the banks are taking all.

I ask myself, "Why me?"

My teachers say I'm special.

My friends and all agree.

Then mom tells me to make my bed.

I ask myself, "Why me?"

He fell to knees most fervently -

the place?  Gethsemane.

Though God did not 'remove His cup',

did Jesus ask, "Why me?"

So lazy, greedy, prideful, vain -

oh, how can I complain?

My prayers are simply mockeries

if I know not His pain.

Pain that He endures each time

that I think of myself -

for He's the Master Teacher - and

I'm the little 'elf'...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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As More Fall 11-11-12

Just count the leaves here, 1-2-3

as more fall from the Maple tree.

Bright colored leaves, for all to see -

as more fall from the Maple tree.

And cooler weather there will be -

as more fall from the Maple tree.

The autumn breezes blow them free

as more fall from the Maple tree.

We jump in piles of leaves, whoopee!!

as more fall from the Maple tree.

We joke a lot, we're filled with glee -

as more fall from the Maple tree.

A blizzard comes. The robins flee

as more fall from the Maple tree.

We'll snowboard and we'll also ski -

as more fall from the Maple tree.

Then lost souls find eternity -

and more fall from the Maple tree.

Futile lives here, 1-2-3 

while more fall from the Maple tree.

Do we serve Jesus faithfully 

and rescue those on Maple tree? 

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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An Old Abandoned Cabin 11-4-12

Nestled in a valley in a clearing of large oak,

while sunlight touched but treetops where the baby robins woke,

stood an old abandoned cabin that had seen some better days,

had once seen better fam'lies and had once seen better ways.

A little stream meandered by with water clean and pure

that seemed to say, "Come drink from me.  Your problems, I will cure."

And sparkled bright, the diamonds that had glistened in the sky,

as did the dew on God's green earth that blessed the patient eye.

Hither, yon the squirrels worked and did what squirrels do.

They shared their ample spacious trees where little finches flew -

where trees wore brilliant yellow, red and golden colored suits

where leaves had wiggled in the breeze among leftover fruits.

But when the sun had cleared the hill and peeked above the trees

exposing all the guilt of man and sin that Heaven sees -

it brought to light the darkness deep inside those timbered wall,

where dust and cobwebs fought a war and won man's mighty fall.

Now just a second, let's step back and tell me how they can -

how tiny little spiders beat the big and mighty man?

Just maybe, man with ego big, was thought too big to fail -

and now the dust and spiderwebs own every board and nail.

That cabin once was filled with 'men', with love and life and health,

but now sits there abandoned and long gone his pride and wealth.

I once knew well the fam'ly who had lived inside those walls

of that abandoned cabin where our Savior's voice still calls.

If mighty man's big head was pulled along with his conceit

from clouds so he'd descend back down and settle on his feet -

then maybe he could still enjoy the cabin in the trees

and persevere through patience with the autumn colored leaves -

that dance above the cabin roof, that seem to taunt en mass -

to each and every one of us until possessions pass -

that man was beaten down by bugs who haven't any clue

that God is still in full control over me and you...

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Christmas Eyes 11-1-12

My mama was a loving spouse who did her very best

to keep my father happy and she never did protest -

to what my father said and did to add to her abuse -

and all the things I saw him do.  There wasn't an excuse.

My father was a spiteful man who argued quite a lot

and it had hurt my mama so that she became distraught..

I pulled weeds from her garden and I chopped a lot of wood

that heated up our cooking stove.  I helped her all I could.

As we prepared for Christmas Day and all that was in store,

enjoyed, I did, those special times with mama even more.

Yes, more than any other month could ever even boast,

December was that special time that we enjoyed the most.

One cold December morning came when father went to find,

a full and perfect Norway Spruce.  (I tagged along behind).

The woods were vast.  There must have been a million evergreen

which held a billion snowflakes out in sparkling winter scene.

Reflective sunlight shimmered bright which made my eyelids squint

so I looked down and found that all my footsteps made a print -

in snow so fun to walk through as it crushed beneath my feet -

(although at times the drifts caused me to detour or retreat).

That made me pause and catch a glimpse of smoke from fireplace

meandering above our house so wanting to embrace -

a family fraught with nervous fears and silent times 'to boot' -

as father, with his ego big, had muffled mama mute.

But fragrance from the many pine had found my little nose -

and tiny snowflakes glistened while they settled on our clothes -

reminding me that all is well despite my parents quarrels

and I could choose a better life with character and morals -

to live a life, not crooked, as we trekked from place to place -

to find that perfect tree to decorate our living space.

We trampled each direction and at last he gave a sigh.

We finally found that perfect spruce - my father, saw and I.

The night was strangely silent as we sat around our tree
when mom's love and compassion had been proven true to me.

Out through the corner of my eye, I viewed dejected years -

and though she tried to hold them back, I saw her lonely tears.

Throughout that night the light escaped reflecting off the floor,

and whispered prayers were carried out from underneath her door...
But light no longer flickers from the candles flaming tips

and silenced too, are verses that I heard from mama's lips.
I know that father long regrets his former wicked ways -
but through my tears, I won't forget those special Christmas days
with scenes of the Nativity and tree exactly right,

with memories of mama and the truth that came to light.

Yes, this was many years ago that father and I spied -

then cut that perfect Norway Spruce the day before she died.

I heard his weeping through the door - such deep, repentant cries -

but now he sees as mama did... through humble Christmas eyes.

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Romans 10 (NASB)
8 But what does it say? “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart”
—that is, the word of faith which we are preaching,
9 that if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord,
and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved;
10 for with the heart a person believes, resulting in righteousness,
and with the mouth he confesses, resulting in salvation.
11 For the Scripture says, “Whoever believes in Him will not be disappointed.”
12 For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek;
for the same Lord is Lord of all, abounding in riches for all who call on Him;
13 for “Whoever will call on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

Christian Poets 10-30-12

We love, remember, reminisce -

God's Christian poets who we miss...

but will, in Heaven, together be,

to praise again in poetry~!

2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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His Work 10-25-12

He laid a sheet of paper down
upon a table top -
and from his chair he wrote and wrote
so faithfully, non-stop.

They laughed at him and bragged about
the works that they had done.
They filled vast reams of papers, yet -
he had but only one.

They boasted of their many works
their fancy hands exposed.
Great works in rich calligraphy
were pridefully disclosed.

Again they stood around and laughed,
but never did he gloat.
They laughed and scoffed and scoffed and laughed
at everything he wrote..

His life was written on one page -
but what? I didn't know.
The paper he had laying there
was white as driven snow.

Sorrow filled his teary face.
This world fatigued his soul.
The agony that he endured
had taken quite a toll.

I saw that many people judged,
made fun of and demeaned,
ridiculed and criticized
his lack of works they'd seen.

Yet faithfully, he wrote much more.
Were no works written there?
Still blank, his paper had appeared.
I thought it quite unfair.

Unfair that he was working hard
on words that wouldn't be.
Unfair that he was judged by those
on work they couldn't see.

Sometimes we think life's all in vain -
those things we do for God -
but He knows every one of us
and how, through life, we've trod.

It's not the works that we can see
that's valued on our page -
but rather what was done in love
that God will one day gauge.

So why was it completely blank?
Confused, I stopped to think -
but then I learned his work was penned
with tears instead of ink.

Yes, God knows our compassion.
So ponder this, it's true:
God floods His grace upon His world,
gets faithfulness from few.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Where Are You Lord? 10-24-12

I searched and searched but couldn't find -
along still waters I was blind.
I was confused, I was dismayed
until I stopped, until I prayed...

Where are You Lord?

Soften my selfish eyes that stray

that I might see a better way -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my selfish ears of choice

that I might hear Your still, small voice -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my selfish hands that wring

that can't hold firm to Your blessing -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my straight and prideful nose

that I won't judge and won't suppose -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my foolish, selfish words

so I'll enjoy Your singing birds -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften me as a potter would

who'll mold me into what I should -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften me with a discipline

that I might stop, turn, then begin -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Soften my selfish heart so I

might feel the hurt, the faintest cry -

so I can find You.

Where are You Lord?

Were still waters meant to be?
Although I searched, I couldn't see.
Yet there behind me all the way
was Jesus.  Then I heard Him say,

"I am in all
nature, beauty and goodness,

power, supremacy and holiness,

wrath, sovereignty and greatness,

mercy, compassion and fairness,
grace, knowledge and boldness,
respect, teaching and kindness,

love, patience and faithfulness,
loyalty, giving and happiness,

peace, joy and gladness".

I had searched, but couldn't see -
and I was at a loss -

until I stopped and He found me -

from high upon a cross.

So now it is
I follow Him -
in hands that are the Potter's -

faithfully and steadfast,

with endurance and perseverance,

along His peaceful waters.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Washed Away 10-14-12

Do our hearts ache when swift waves break
and wash up sandy beach
or do the waves sing, "Jesus saves!"
when up on beaches reach?
Does 'make life fair' entwine our prayer
though time cannot reverse?
His divine force would change our course
for better - not for worse.

Our free-will stalk will alter walk.
We travel where we will.
Through other lands or beach head sands,
we'll traverse on until -
our final stride meets where we died
and breath no longer flows -
and final prints expose all hints.
...for that is how life goes.

As I looked back, my lifelong track -
I was so much dismayed.
I persevered - but disappeared
those tracks in life I made.
My earthly talk was not all walk.
Again I look around.
With seashore grim, so stunned I am.
My prints cannot be found.

All lost one day and washed away -
a life I lived in haste -
and purpose quashed when prints were washed,
away - ohhh, what a waste!
I don't succumb, but ponder some -
now when I bow to pray.
And so it was, His waves, because
He washed my sins away!

Divine, His grace, hung in my place
when Jesus died instead.
With sins forgiv'n, I bound for Heav'n.
My earthly work is dead.
Let heart not ache, when waves should break
to smooth out wicked beach -
but follow yon His footsteps on,
'til destination reach.

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Prayer of Thanksgiving 9-23-12

This table, set with centerpiece,
fine china, silverware -
has food prepared deliciously
with tender loving care.
With hungry eye, I relish this -
this meal, my daily bread -
then fold my hands and bow my head
before my prayer is said.

I do recite it quick and slurred,
though with the best intent -
and now that grace is said and heard,
it is a blessed event.
The phrases I was taught to say
were pressed down deep in me -
but words are empty without thoughts
of pure sincerity.

Yes, just before I eat, I pray,
but there's a place so crude
which moves me closer to the truth -
that others have no food.
It haunts me as I look around, the
visions of the starved -
who wide-eyed blankly stare at me
behind my turkey, carved.

I see their bloated tummies and
the flies around their eyes.
I hear soft moans from babies lips,
and echoes of their cries.
I taste the mush that they call food.
It lingers on my breath.
I feel the tears start down my cheeks.
I smell the stench of death.

I hesitate with my first bite,
then ask myself, "Do I
really care they're teary eyed
and hungry 'til they die?"
I pray that all the "least of these"
are eating well in Heav'n.
Please help me Lord, to understand
the blessings I was giv'n.

So now when I recite my prayer,
as I sit down to feast,
I ask myself if I'm sincere
and thankful in the least.
For that's when I can hear my voice
ascending to His ear.
He knows if I speak empty words
or if I am sincere.

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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