You Know Me Well 11-19-16

My breath on pane

is all in vain.

It's bitter cold outside.

With fog on glass,

the hours pass.

I swallow deep, my pride.

The plume atop

my quill would stop

with only me to thank.

There are no herds

of rhyming words.

My frozen mind is blank.

I pray to God
but find it odd
that rhyme's don't come to me.
At any cost
I am so lost.
Is this just meant to be?

But it is rare,

that I would dare

to leave before I write.
Though inkwell's here

words disappear

on parchment through the night.

Not thinking 'prose'

my words are froze

just as it is outdoors -

with barren trees

all stripped of leaves,

like extinct dinosaurs.

Now I confess

that I digress

from what I want to say.

It sure does seem

I'm losing steam.

My poem drifts away.

Should I explore

my mind some more -
that's vast as the frontier -

or let you think

I'm out of ink

and end this poem here?

Oh, what's the use

for such a truce?

I'm finished anyhow.

I sure can tell

you know me well.

You're raising one eyebrow.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Come With Me 11-12-16

Please come with me while we stand tall

and give to those awaiting call

who haven't any hope.

My tears run as a waterfall,

pour off my cheeks for one and all.

I don't know how they cope.

Now Susie is a dancer

She's nine, but now has cancer.

She's on a newer drug.

The days are slow.  She sits alone

'tween night and day in twilight zone.

She needs someone to hug.

Meet David with clef palate

who plays on old wood pallet

each long and boredom day.

His mother doesn't have a house.

He's shy and quiet as a mouse

and has nothing to say.

Meet Bobby Jean who's starving -

while turkeys we are carving -

for our Thanksgiving feast.

She needs some clothes and needs a bath.

She did not choose this endless path.

Of these, she is the 'least'.

Meet the Muslim boy, Abdul.

He's beaten hard and it's so cruel.

He studies the Koran.

If you were him, you would be too

and studying a twisted view

to be an evil man.

Please come with me while we stand tall

and give to those awaiting call

who haven't any hope.

My tears run as a waterfall,

pour off my cheeks for one and all.

I don't know how they cope.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Clouds Of Grace 10-29-16

The seconds seem to march on by

as I lay in my bed.

The still, dark room surrounds me as

life's chaos fills my head.

I sought God's great forgiveness here

and prayed His 'will' be done.

I sought His endless blessings too -

His each and every one.

Awakened in the dead of night

brings pain and misery.

Those pins and needles sting me like

a million honey bee.

There's something in my eyes that runs

right down my wrinkled cheeks.

The seconds turn to minutes and

then hours into weeks.

The weeks turn into months and years

as I lay on my bed.

I hear the ticking of the clock

as life hangs by a thread.

A thread that is so fragile and

holds every thought that comes -

and pounds into my painful ears

like noisy, marching drums.

I try to shut my eyes and sleep,

but through the pain and flack -

my tears still win the battle, though

I've tried to hold them back.

My head begins exploding with

anxiety attack,

but so as not to live regret

I yank my muscles back.

This horrid pain has hit me like

a ton or two of brick -

that brings more torture to my ears

with every single 'tick'.

I sought God's will through faithful hope

but must accept this quest -

that when my fragile thread does snap,

I find that God has blessed.

Not maybe how I thought He would -
because this world harms.
But when that fragile thread does snap -
I'll find I'm in His arms.

For Christ endured this torture too.

He knows just how I feel.

So faithfully He carries me

and brings my heart to heal.

He holds me up, takes tension off

that single fragile thread,

so I can float on clouds of grace

that quell my pain instead.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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In Your Image 10-22-16

You made me in Your image Lord,

but I broke through the mold.

I thought my way was better so

I didn't do as told.

I lived in curiosity

when I was just a child.

I grew up wanting everything,

was selfish and was wild.

I lived in all my foolishness
and put myself in bubble.

And when I drew my idols in -

it got me into trouble.

One rainy day my bubble burst

and so I sat depressed.

Drenching wet I swallowed pride

that should have been addressed.

If I could start all over Lord,

I'd listen and obey.

And that way I would not be in

the fix I am today.
You'd make me in Your image Lord.

I wouldn't break the mold.

I'd know your way was better and

I'd do as I was told.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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