I am wishing a Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. Since this promises to be a
day of, as yet undetermined adventures, I will just send a poem or two. I wonder sometimes it my poems always make sense to other people. They make sense to me of course, but that is because they are the spillage of my thoughts. It they don't make sense to you....just give them a toss....
RUMPLED STARCH
I've thanked the Lord so many times,
For showing me the way,
That I can serve him tenderly,
I thank Him everyday.
In my youth were many paths,
From which I sought to choose,
And I have loved the one I walk,
While wearing nurses shoes.
He made me not of what it takes,
To be a starched prim nurse,
But He filled my heart with love,
For Him - and unstarched verse.
The meter's maybe - incorrect,
Perhaps - imperfect verse,
But then I think I haven't heard,
There is -----a perfect nurse.
SECOND FIDDLE
Love is a sweet melody,
That softly fills the room,
If the violin should stop,
The master has no tune,
The second one the fill the space,
May only play a fiddle,
The memory of the violin,
Remains there - in the middle,
The fiddle shouldn't play a tune ,
Or try a sweet refrain
For memories of yesteryear,
The master shall retain,
The fiddle has a different string,
It has a different bow,
And the music that it plays,
The master doesn't know.
The fiddler cannot burst forth,
And play a tune itself,
For the violinist left,
Some music on the shelf,
The dusty fiddle doesn't play,
Exhausted by the riddle,
It collects the dust because,
It is the second fiddle.
CLIPPERS
Once I thought the barber was,
So grossly out of line,
For It seemed he clipped me when,
He trimmed that son of mine,
Now, I'd love to dole it out,
I'd gladly pay him double,
If he' just reduce the mop,
Once more - to boyish stubble.
ATHEIST
God, give him the grace to see,
The master of his life is Thee,
Take his saddened soul and mold,
Beauty from it's Godless cold,
From his heart the devil's hand,
Take - and let him understand,
Do not let it be his fate --
To stand alone at Heavens gate.
day of, as yet undetermined adventures, I will just send a poem or two. I wonder sometimes it my poems always make sense to other people. They make sense to me of course, but that is because they are the spillage of my thoughts. It they don't make sense to you....just give them a toss....
RUMPLED STARCH
I've thanked the Lord so many times,
For showing me the way,
That I can serve him tenderly,
I thank Him everyday.
In my youth were many paths,
From which I sought to choose,
And I have loved the one I walk,
While wearing nurses shoes.
He made me not of what it takes,
To be a starched prim nurse,
But He filled my heart with love,
For Him - and unstarched verse.
The meter's maybe - incorrect,
Perhaps - imperfect verse,
But then I think I haven't heard,
There is -----a perfect nurse.
SECOND FIDDLE
Love is a sweet melody,
That softly fills the room,
If the violin should stop,
The master has no tune,
The second one the fill the space,
May only play a fiddle,
The memory of the violin,
Remains there - in the middle,
The fiddle shouldn't play a tune ,
Or try a sweet refrain
For memories of yesteryear,
The master shall retain,
The fiddle has a different string,
It has a different bow,
And the music that it plays,
The master doesn't know.
The fiddler cannot burst forth,
And play a tune itself,
For the violinist left,
Some music on the shelf,
The dusty fiddle doesn't play,
Exhausted by the riddle,
It collects the dust because,
It is the second fiddle.
CLIPPERS
Once I thought the barber was,
So grossly out of line,
For It seemed he clipped me when,
He trimmed that son of mine,
Now, I'd love to dole it out,
I'd gladly pay him double,
If he' just reduce the mop,
Once more - to boyish stubble.
ATHEIST
God, give him the grace to see,
The master of his life is Thee,
Take his saddened soul and mold,
Beauty from it's Godless cold,
From his heart the devil's hand,
Take - and let him understand,
Do not let it be his fate --
To stand alone at Heavens gate.
God bless you --- Mary Patty