NOTE: I thank those who have spread the word of my site. I do not spend money advertising. I do not ask for money. My poems are free so that even the poorest of the poor can be comforted with my poetry. I am pleased when others are blessed. No amount of money can surpass that. I am now blessed with about 10,000 page views per month and my prayer is that through my poetry, that this world can become a safer, more loving and respectful place - that those who do not know who Jesus really was (and still is), will come to know the peace, healing, sacrifice and grace He has given to those who truly believe in Him and faithfully follow. I pray that you enjoy my story poems...

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


March 16, 2014

Perfect Mom, The 3-16-14

In remembrance of my mom...
Ruth 1925 - 2014

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 loving care,
"There's nothing here to worry you- and nothing more to bear."

©2014 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

(note:  Ruth was recovering from a successful heart surgery when her medications ended up wrong.  This setback and others that made her gain weight- along with a tumor they found on her backbone- put her in a wheelchair.  A nerve in her jaw had given her great intermittent pain for decades, her hearing was bad or non-existent in one ear and her eyes had faded to near blindness.  Cancer was then discovered throughout her body.  However, though nearly blind, she continued to knit 'flips' for children to throw and gave them out as fast as she made them until her final days.
Ruth Gander 1925-2014)


My mom had told me once that this was her favorite song...

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.