A Wondrous Story 2-2-13

I'd love to be a poet - a real one, you know -

so I could write man's world off allowing God's to glow.

I'd write a wondrous story, that we could all take part

and live it in reality - each one with perfect heart.

I'd think outside my circle, with paper, ink and pen -

and think outside my flimsy box to live in peace again -

in gardens filled with blossoms - all colors full and bold -

that I could sweep my arms across and many flowers hold.

I'd jump inside my story with animals and birds,

living in His nature and camouflaged with words -

that whisper as the breezes in true harmonic cord,

that bring us lives so unsurpassed when living with our Lord.

I'd peer up to the mountains, at several waterfalls,

that rain grace down from Heaven where every angel calls -

to show to us a perfect world where He can overwhelm -

where man rejects but God perfects His great creation's realm.

I'd never hide inside my world, but fully would expect -

that men would treat each other with a solemn, deep respect -

that women dress with modesty and also could endow -

that girls learn to curtsy slow and boys would learn to bow.

I'd stroll inside my poem free from envy, sin and hate -

and walk beside still waters where 'the way' is always straight.

And I shall keep on writing true for many, many years -

until I see no longer through my sad and yearning tears.

I'd love to be a poet - a real one, you know -

so I could write man's world off allowing God's to glow.

I'd write a wondrous story, that we could all take part

and live it in reality - each one with perfect heart.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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From Where I Sit 8-3-12

Up on the high majestic hill,

stands one great mighty oak,

that seems to mimic something else -

a world of prideful folk.

Some think that sin is not so bad,

they think it's overblown -

but I can feel that screaming wind

from Satan's megaphone.

Oh, we all know man's clanging wars -

his taxed and tortured slaves -

his used, abused or beaten spouse -

the sinful life he paves -

that plows up God's great symphony

with Adam's clumsy ox -

and pummels us with angry words

or painful, sinful rocks.

But God's created orchestra -

all people, black and white -

all babies born (or soon to be)

and elders have a right -

a right to live on God's great earth

in peace and harmony.

But pride seeks greater powers and

rejects humility.

From where I sit, I always see

His beauty deep within,

His loving, graceful handiwork -

though plundered so, with sin.

God's handiwork from birds to fish

and mammals great and small -

still bless me with their beauty here.

I see His work in all.

And when I think my Loving God,

has nothing more to give -

He pours out love in greater grace,

so ready to forgive -

where even I, through heavy heart,

so tearfully repent -

and seek that perfect sacrifice,

who God already sent.

A rhythm rolls with springtime breeze

across this valley pass -

right over meadow here below

and through His humble grass.

In unison, harmonic notes

from orchestra below -

still wave to those on mighty hill,

to folks who need to know...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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