"I want to thank all those who come from around the world and read the poetry that God has inspired me with to make the world a more pleasant and peaceful place. This site shall always be totally free for everyone with no tracking, pop-up ads & videos or other distractions." ~louis gander

April 30, 2013

It Is True 4-30-13

His clock set on the mantle.
The chime had faded nigh.
The sound had died without a tear.
I did not wonder why...
Not once had I heard father say,
"My daughter, I love you."
I guess I'd always wondered.
Did he?  Was it true?
I saw a paper on his desk.  A quill, upon it, laid.
The paper held some words in ink that soon came to my aid.
I sat upon his wooden chair that saw some better years.
And when I read the words he wrote, I burst out into tears.

He seemed to thrive at this old desk.  He seemed to like it so.
He seemed to want to help the sick - and others feeling low.
There comes a time when words must end and pen must be set down.
There comes a time when body dies - each verb, each subject, noun.

His hand had dropped that feathered pen.  His inkwell tipped and dried.
It seems he wrote his final thoughts on this before he died.
His strength had left his body.  Life's clock had taken toll.
When all his words had been used up, the last few left his soul...

BUT JOY survives the darkest night when Jesus lights the dawn!
And though the greatest poet fades, his words are never gone.
They're written for the ages.  They're never obsolete.
They're just as true as they were then - and lovingly complete.

There comes a time when someone else must take the feathered quill -
the quill that wrote so many words - and these that I hold still.
His hand had shaken violently where smears of ink had dried -
and this now pulls tears down my cheeks the day after he died.

I stared again at his last words, though splattered so with ink -
and read each word quite carefully - then paused a bit to think.
Expressed, he did, his final thoughts on paper I now cleave -
because he spilled his life on it.  And so I do believe.
His clock set on the mantle.
The chime had faded nigh.
My joyful tears were flowing now.
His words the reason why:
"I never heard my daughter say,
'Father, I love you.'
But you, my dear, I've always loved.
Believe it.  It is true."

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Never fail to say, "I love you." and mean it.


April 25, 2013

My New Friend 4-25-13

I passed the lady at her desk (the pastor's file clerk).
He peered above his glasses busy with some paperwork.

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

I feebly asked him for his help.  I mentioned my new friend.
"I'm busy with my sermon now.  What service can he lend?"

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

"Does he tithe?" then asked the Pastor from behind his tidy desk -
sitting on his leather chair and looking somewhat statuesque.

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

"Does he tithe?" he asked again with both arms tight across his chest -
folded firm and rigid on his perfect three-piece suited vest.

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

"Does he tithe?" he asked again with bold expression on his face -
leaning forward in his chair next to some flowers in a vase.

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

"Does he tithe?" he asked one last time as he stood up straight and tall.
"It's a fact he's not a Christian if he doesn't.  That is all."

(I just stood there speechless and did not know what to say).
...but then I asked - if it would be okay - to show my new friend in.
The Pastor said, "Why don't you?" (and he said it with a grin).

So then I walked back to the door and briefly exited -
and then returned with my new friend.  I paused and humbly said,

I'm sorry that I couldn't find the words that would explain -
that my new friend here isn't well and in a bit of pain.

It seems he has no money and it's hard to get around.
It seems his ears have trouble hearing low and quiet sounds.

It seems that he is needing just a bit of your advice -
because he lost his legs on an explosive land device.

It seems he needs this wheelchair and help with other things.
It seems he has no purpose now.  His soul no longer sings...

He has no car, he has no home nor place to lie his head.
It's been a long time coming so his need is to be fed.

And so it was, the Pastor dropped back down in his soft chair.
He seemed to be in shock awhile with my friend sitting there.

Before he spoke, the seconds seemed to drag on endlessly -
but finally he had found his words and spoke them reverently.

"The reason that we all must tithe and never miss a week -
is so that we can help the poor, the hurting and the weak.

The tithes and offerings we receive?  Folks haven't any clue-
but funds should flow in freely for a person such as you.
And then behind his glasses- I had thought I saw it clear -
yes, on his tidy desk had dropped a long-awaited tear.

(I just stood there speechless and did not know what to say).

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Sometimes our intentions are tidy, but our priorities are a mess. ~louis gander


Luke 20: 45-47 (NASB)
45 And while all the people were listening, He said to the disciples,
46 “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes,
and love respectful greetings in the market places,
and chief seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets,
47 who devour widows’ houses, and for appearance’s sake offer long prayers.
These will receive greater condemnation.”
Luke 21: 1-4
1 And He looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the treasury.
2 And He saw a poor widow putting in two small copper coins.
3 And He said, “Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all of them;
4 for they all out of their surplus put into the offering;
but she out of her poverty put in all that she had to live on.”

April 20, 2013

Termites! 4-20-13

"Hey, we will tax small businesses and little grandmas too -
and we will tax your neighbor and we'll give it all to you."
said he, the tiny termite in intimidating clothes -
but I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"And then we'll tax the smokers and the drinkers and the fat -
so would you have some int'rest in a program such as that?"
said he, the brazen termite with the velvet tongue that flows -
but I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"And here's another program that will pay when you get old -
so let us take your money now." ('A pittance', I was told).
He brought some little friends along who lined up straight in rows -
but I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little program that will help when grandma's sick-
so let us take some money now." ...and wow, they took it quick.
And so the termites marched along but said, "We won't impose."
Oh, I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a 'rainy day' fund that's for you when unemployed-
so let us take some money now. This tax, you can't avoid.
And so, more termites gathered- and, in fact, they came in droves -
Oh, I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little highway that will hurry you to work-
so let us take some money. Please don't be a stingy jerk."
And so, the termites led me by my twisted, naive nose.
Oh, I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little food stamp that will feed the little folk-
so let us take some money now. They're children. It's no joke."
And as the termites ate away, I didn't once oppose -
for I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little missile that protects you during war-
so let us take some money now. You'll learn what it is for."
And so the termites taxed and spent- and that's how 'hot air' blows -
for I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just to bail banks, et.al., who were too big to fail-
so let us take your money now or you will go to jail."
And so the termites ate away. No arguments arose.
for I was none the wiser and - that's how this story goes.

"It's just the way it is that there's no program for your loan.".
They told me, "Just go run along"- that I was on my own.
And so the termites ate and ate at anything they chose.
I wish I'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little program for your care when you are sick-
so let us take some money now and we'll, your doctors, pick."
And so the termites ate their fill. Now I'm a slave to those -
I wish I'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

"It's just to pay for things you get- these programs we design -
so give us all your money now or we will levy fines.
And so the termites ate away and greater damage shows.
I wish I'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

"It's just to pay entitlements and int'rest on the debt-
and you must pay the IRS- and yes, this is a threat."
Then as they blamed us for this debt, they stepped right on our toes -
I wish we'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

They've mortgaged off our Nation's Parks and too, Miss Liberty.
They've stripped her of her freedoms and her every dignity.
And then the fat 'ol termites left, but where? Nobody knows.
I wish I'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

Those termite politicians? They took us for a ride -
with budgets in the trillions eating through our countryside.
And as they blame us for this debt, the 'money river' flows -
I wish we'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

Now who defends each 'unborn child' who has to pay this debt -
or lobbies for the 'least of these' before they 18 get?
They punch me squarely in the face- then curse my bloody nose.
I know I am the wiser now. That's how this story goes.

This battle must be prudent as the termites eat us poor.
It isn't what we asked for but it's now a civil war.
We cannot run away from them and so our passion grows -
because we're all the wiser now.  That's how this story goes.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


The one thing much more despicable than 'not voting' -
is voting in selfish ignorance as a 'lover of money'
from ANY party - for one's own pocketbook -
without a love for rights & responsibilities,
liberties & freedoms, duty & honor,
or Country...  ~louis gander

April 17, 2013

On Timbered Tree 4-17-13

So proud the tree that grew freely
with 'green-backed' leaves to show -
but selfish sins brought greedy winds
that blew them 'to and fro'.

It had begun. The truth was spun.
Some laws were 'redefined'.
They had an itch to bail the rich
but leave us poor behind.

And then, so fast, the leaves they cast
throughout the stormy sky -
where billions tossed were sadly lost -
from bureaucratic lie.

T'was blunder's greed! Bankrupt indeed -
but fail? They were too big!
So bailed out, they gained more clout
that broke each little twig.

Free enterprise then undersized -
had undermined the oak.
The witnesses? Small businesses -
that saw their branches broke.

From smallest twig to branches big,
what future can be bright -
when in a funk we find the trunk
with but two limbs in sight?

Oh, how can we, grow honestly
when love for money gains -
outstripping small when guilty call -
and love for country wanes?

Now every kind of termite find
on timbered tree of thieves.
And debt, the moss, our country's cost -
when missing, are the leaves.

©2013 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

April 10, 2013

Blooming From Roots 4-10-13

This is a TRUE STORY POEM of horror, action and suspense.

It starts with a little 6 year old girl named "Jellee" (pronounced "jelly")
from Liberia, Africa (on the western coast) -
and ends when she is about 18 and having changed her name to Veronica.
I think you'll find out why...

I personally interviewed Veronica and helped begin writing her biography
which she is planning to entitle "Blooming From Roots".

I name this poem the same.

Obviously I am not able to write her whole life's experiences in poetry form

and her book will be more detailed -
yet I kept this poem fully factual
(and should be appropriate for the younger readers as well).
I have written it in 'first person' in present tense with permission.

I wish to thank Veronica (Jellee) Gabor for giving me permission
to publish this poem for my readers.
I hope you enjoy "Blooming From Roots".


Blooming From Roots

The night is very peaceful.  Stars twinkle in the sky.
While God creates the beauty, man destroys - but why?

A-boom! Boom! Boom!   A-bang, bang, bang!  A-pop, pop, pop!  Rat-a-tat-tat...
Our village undefended!  The horror starts like that.

What is going on?  I'm only six years old.  Gunshots echo through the air!
Yelling, screaming - orders barked.  Bullets everywhere!

(Jellee, in blue, at her home with some of her family - age 6)

As fireworks, but louder - those AK-forty-sevens -
A-bang, bang, bang!  A-pop, pop, pop!  The booming shakes the heavens!

The rebels swarm like bumble bees!  The terror snatches breath.
They frighten all the villagers.  They sting us with their death!

They scare me so.  I try to run.  One catches me off-guard.
He slaps me and I start to bleed.  He hits and kicks me hard.

They seize my father, torture him.  They frighten me a lot!
They grab his arms, behead him there - and kill him on the spot.

The rebels move so swiftly!  I'm just a little child!
My mom is screaming.  I am too.  These murderers are wild!

Two more hold my mother down - they kill as if a game!
"Shut up!" the rebel yells at me, "...or you will get the same!"

Oh, how I squirm and wiggle!  He's holding me so tight.
He hurts my arms.  I cry and scream!  I am too young to fight.

He hits me hard with his big gun.  It slams me to the ground.
He swears that I will get the same if I make one more sound.

Shocked, I am.  I'm terrified.  My friends still unaware -
of what is really happening.  Is this a bad nightmare?

I scramble up and start to run - past one hut, then another.
Oh, will he kill me as he did my father and my mother?

I run as fast as I can run.  I'm frightened as can be.
A lady grabs and picks me up - her arms protecting me.

I'm wailing as she runs to hide among 'da bush' and trees.
I hear the chaos all around now bent low on my knees.

I soon think it is safe enough for me to run away -
but I will be forever scarred.  I won't forget this day.

For years I live with others, my makeshift families -
but oh, the torture I go through is more than man believes.

(Jellee at age 10)

Such sin conceives atrocious things, but that does not compare
to all the things they make me do.  It's way too much to bear...

I lost my friends and family.  It simply makes no sense!
I cannot find a peaceful place.  I lose my innocence.

I bounce between the villages to find a life of peace -
but trial after failed trial, the sadness doesn't cease.

Then once again, it happens!  And this I can't endure!
The rebels come in shooting!  No village is secure!

I pray that they will go away.  My heart is beating hard.
I hide again inside 'da bush' - emotionally scarred.

I try to hide the best I can with rebels coming near -
I hear the bushes moving and an angry voice I hear:

"We know you're hiding!  Come on out, or we shoot again!"
 And with those words they fire some more - a terrorizing sin.

A bullet hits my ankle.  I quickly take my top -.
and tie it 'round my ankle - for it is all I've got.

And then I try to flee again.  There's no way I can stay.
My left hand holds my ankle as I try to run away.

I hear something familiar.  I look up to the skies.
A helicopter nears the road!  A sight for weary eyes!

The emblem proves it's friendly.  The bright 'red, white and blue'.
I run as fast as I can go.  That is what I must do.

I hold my bleeding ankle and I also try to run.
My former top is soaked with blood.  My last dash has begun.

I cannot stay and that's for sure - to left and right, I glance.
I look out through the clearing.  This is my only chance!

I pass the dying bodies of - mothers, girls and boys.
But I must leave this awful place where sinful man destroys.

Through bullets, can I make it?  I really do not know.
I start across the clearing.  I stumble as I go.

It seems to take forever.  I'm determined so, to put -
this nightmare far behind me.  I hurt from head to foot.

The chopper blades are noisy.  The dust blows in my face.
Some bullets zing right past my head.  I quicken up my pace!

Just when I'm feeling hopeful, a bullet rips my side.
I fall with all the others and I think I'll miss my ride.

I have no strength to run again.  I'm bleeding real bad.
I put my right hand on my side.  That chance was all I had.

I'm feeling weak and failing fast.  While dying here, I cry.
I vainly wave for someone's help - so futilely I try...

And then the lights go out.  It's black.  I've failed with the others -
those who came so very close - fathers, mothers, brothers...

When terror roots, a rebel shoots and death is what he gives -
yet blooming now from ugly roots, a lovely flower lives!

And two weeks later, I wake up, with coma finally over.
And though I ache from head to toe, I 'see' green fields of clover.

I 'see' a land so beautiful - a land that most can't see -
a land of milk and honey, of opportunity.

(one of Jellee's gunshot wounds - this one from an AK-47)

Now five years later, it came true.  I'm thankful still today.
Though I don't know who rescued me, I'm in the USA!

It seems as though I'm born again - and not just 'physically'.
I 'see' this land more beautifully - and it comes 'spiritually'.

An everlasting land in Heav'n - if Jesus lives within.
He picks us up right where we fall - if we've been born again.

The day is very peaceful.  Although the terror looms,
As God creates the beauty, His precious child blooms.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED (11/19/12)

(I could not bring myself to write about all of the many atrocities)

John 3:16 King James Version (KJV)
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

John 14:3 (KJV)
And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

April 5, 2013

Just His Guest 4-5-13

I sit a'spell and ponder 'bout,
creation at its best -
and savor life each minute knowing
I am just His guest...

And frolicking, those two fawns did, near green, dense forest brush -
just playing in ecstatic glee.  I laid low, quiet, hushed...

A bubbling brook meandered past one little playful twin -
and slipped down over smooth washed stones in sheets most paper thin.

So quietly I watched them play, as mother doe stood still.
She guided them and peered around as only mothers will.

And grandly standing on the knoll, a rigid eight point buck.
He stood as if a statue there, as if his feet were stuck.

A squirrel scampered up a tree.  The twins both took a drink.
The mother doe stepped closer and- this whole view made me think.

I pondered God's creation.  Such beauty man can see -
of peace and true tranquility...  but then a "BOOM!" shook me.

CRACK!!  That bang had echoed- still echoes in my head.
The eight point buck, with startled jerk, had lurched and then fell dead.

How quickly things can happen- and in our lives as well -
when we could end up just like that- in Heaven or in Hell.

Though He had loved and only healed and gave us full increase,
some couldn't 'stomach' long ago, this Man of grace and peace.

We kill to have our stomach filled, indifferent for the loss.
This fateful time man killed with gun- but former time, a cross.

Those creatures scattered with that shot and I saw not a trace.
The eight point buck gave all he had- but Jesus, life and grace.

I sit a 'spell and ponder 'bout
creation at its best -
and savor life each minute knowing
I am just His guest...

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


April 1, 2013

A Leaf 4-1-13

I was a leaf with no relief
from stiff and blowing winds -
and twisted taut was cruelly fought
with all their greedy sins.
I set my sights on city lights
but life was in their hands.
I held on tight with all my might -
but they had killed my plans.

Still, all went good- as well, it should
until I met my match -
when roared and churned the gusts had turned.
I twisted and detached.
But oh, alas!  It came to pass
that it was not of me!
With legal tools, they changed the rules -
then yanked me from that tree.

Unlike a play, the truth did say,
I soared right through the air.
I did not know where I would go,
but, oh indeed, did care.
Now judged from those with pointed nose
who see me from afar -
they claim I failed because I'd sailed
with breezy winds that are.

Let those who judge and do not budge
be sentenced not this way -
but may the suns burn greedy ones
forever and a day...
They do not care I'm flying where
no leaf has gone before
and so I go where ill winds blow
but not forevermore.

I'll settle down on clover ground
on soft caressing lawn -
that's so serene by pastures green
where few have ever gone.
It's Heaven's sod.  For only God
knows everywhere I've blown.
And He employs the greatest joys
this world has ever known.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED