June 18, 2020

Halo's Glow, The 6-18-20

Who really cares?  Who understands
the rusty spikes through feet and hands?
His feet wore dust that turned to mud
when mixed with his own sweat and blood.

And then, of course, some thorns were found
and weaved into an ugly crown.
A painful mocking, gross insult
(but we know now the end result).

He was so sore and in such pain,
yet love for us would somehow gain.
He gave us life and gave us breath!
He saved us from eternal death!

Yes, we are just as bad as those
who we have judged His greatest foes.
Let's praise His work, His will, His way.
Let's bow and give Him thanks today.

But we pray for expedience
while He seeks our obedience.
Remember His beatitudes!
Let's change our selfish attitudes.

I tell you world, I can't compete
with such a love that's so complete.
There is no greater love than His
and that is what the greatest is.

From greatest love, for greatest foe,
can we not see from here below?
From greatest love, for greatest foe,
can we not see the halo's glow?

©2020 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

May 17, 2020

Beneath That Old Cross 5-17-20


Your grace draws me to You as I have observed.
But I linger often.  It's so undeserved.
Your love overwhelms me, Your strength holds me tight,
forgiveness is calling but guilt is my plight.

Effects of my sins are embossed in hard stone.
I cannot undo them.  I can't, not alone.
A carp without fin or a crow without wing,
I try as I might but can't fix anything.

Regret is the shadow I cannot outrun,
I cannot erase it or kill it with gun.
I cry for your blessings to shower as rain,
on those I have hurt so that peace they obtain.

Please hold them and guard them and don't let them fall,
then bless me with life that is pleasing to all.
Reminded of what I have put others through,
I so need forgiveness, but leave that to You.

I cry out in anguish.  I cry out in shame.
I know life is real and cry out Your name.
Please shake me of old days and don't let them kill
a future of loving and doing 'Your will'.

Immersed in contrition as life goes along,
dear Lord, please forgive me for all I've done wrong.
Your grace, so sufficient, Your love, so immense,
was proven at Cal'vry at Your great expense.

Please bury my burdens and bury my guilt,
beneath that old cross where Your blood had been spilt.
Remembering all You still do from above,
my tears now replace these mere words with my love.

©2020 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

April 25, 2020

Lonely Lost Poet 4-25-20


I wanted to write but saw forest instead
while loud chirping noises were filling my head.
"Go away!" the birds chirped, "We don't want you here!"
So off I had gone when I came across deer.

The deer were so startled, they ran away fast
with two frightened squirrels that also raced past.
The bugs and the butterflies seemed not to care.
I plopped myself down on a stump to prepare.

I heard eerie sounds when the wind pushed the trees,
but sounds were not words I could write down with ease.
The high-above limbs had creaked strangely in sway
and darkened surroundings in most frightful way.

My phrases eluded and wouldn't take shape
here stuck in this forest without an escape.
Distractions harassed me and it was not right.
Disturbed concentrations did not let me write.

This lost, lonely poet, still empty of rhyme,
gave way to the thought that it just wasn't time
to find my way out of this forest of words
still hearing the echo of mean heckling birds.

I thought, "I'll not bother to pen one today"
so wadded my paper and tossed it away.
The winds didn't care- in fact, nobody knew
it flew right across the small clearing from view.

As wind grew momentum, my work was in vain.
A chill ran down through me.  It started to rain.
Self-pity took over.  I drowned in my fears
as rain streaked my cheeks all commingled with tears.

"But wait!" I then jabbered, "just look what God's done!
He wrote this here poem and wrote it in fun."
I'll not be discouraged when mind has turned numb.
I'll not sit here sulking when words do not come.

The rain had stopped falling.  Clouds faded away.
And trees disappeared as I went on my way.
To tune out distractions and those noisy birds
just listen intently for God's greater words...

©2020 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

March 22, 2020

The Very Last Time 3-22-20


Could I be like mother?
Do I have the time?
She seemed so angelic
and seemed so sublime.

We all have to work
for days at a time.
A difficult struggle
and very hard climb.

I labored and slaved
through years of hard time.
I scratched for - and saved it,
but it was a crime.

And focused on God?  No.
I lost it in time.
His will, not my purpose,
but dollar and dime.

I now live for Jesus.
I give Him my time.
My life of enjoyment,
completed in rhyme.

But now I see mom for
the very last time.
I turn from her casket
...and hear the bell chime.

©2020 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

February 21, 2020

What the Little Do 2-20-20


A teeny ant thought he was great.
He watched those other ants.
Atop a tiny blade of grass
he bragged in tiny chants.

A tiny toad thought he was best,
believing others bad.
And there he sat day after day,
atop a lillypad.

A little bird thought he was tops
above the other nine.
And chirped, he proudly, ev'ry day
perched on a twisted vine.

And then a big ol' grizzly bear
shook earth while running by.
The ant, the toad and little bird -
in fear, they thought they'd die!

So off in fear, they scattered fast.
I laughed at all of them.
Their attitudes and downright pride
were things I would condemn.

Then as I looked around me too,
my wand'ring eyes did search.
Did I see other hypocrites
inside my little church?

A teeny, tiny, little man
was sitting in my pride.
And there I stayed day after day
and could have 'til I died.

But humbled was, when Jesus knocked
at my heart's wicked door.
His nail-scarred hands reached out to me
as I dropped to the floor.

Behind my blurry, tearfilled eyes
I knew I wasn't strong.
This teeny, tiny, little man
knew I was very wrong.

The ant, the toad and little bird
had learned their lesson too.
Do not think highly of yourself.
That's what the little do.

©2020 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------

January 4, 2020

Bee 1 & Bee 2 ~ 1-4-20


Bee 2 was dear friends to Bee 1 that short summer.
They worked well together and made their work funner.

They spent their best days buzzing so closely over,
a flowering field of delicious green clover.

The sweet golden nectar that they were collecting
was their foremost duty while queen bee protecting.

In fun competition, sought who could be faster,
ignoring completely potential disaster.

For, far in the distance, they both were ignoring,
a big red machine that had made a loud roaring.

It leveled so quickly the clover and grasses,
but never once hit them on back and forth passes.

Yes, they noticed it passing, but paid it no heed -
and then were run over... with the good and the weed.

Bee 1 hurt so bad it put 2 in depression.
Did both bees survive it?  Now that was the question.

Though neither had noticed when that mower arrived,
Bee 1 didn't made it - while Bee 2 had survived.

It seems so unfair that disaster was lurking,
though both were so faithful and both were still working,

Bee 2 was so sad he cried teardrops of honey.
He thought God unfair!  All his days now not sunny.

We run life's race fast but, out of reach, that baton,
so how can we live when our best friend has passed on?

Is God so unfair when our work here is over?
Well, not to Bee 1 there in Heaven's sweet clover...

©2020 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-------