A Younger Poet 5-1-12

I dab some ink on end of quill,

and draft a poem right until,

my paper stack is all used up

and empty is my coffee cup.

My hand that shakes all on its own,

is held in place by fragile bone

so every verb and every noun

is marred when they are written down.

It seems to me to be so cruel,

for such a weak and senile fool,

with varicose and bulging veins

with all my many aches and pains,

to write more words until they're right

this poetry - despite my sight,

that grows so weak so often now.

I wonder if I still know how...

Yet may my writing not disguise

that God is good and God is wise -

for God has blessed and has in store

His endless grace and all the more.

We often think we know it all

and brag before our humble fall -

yet may we learn this simple truth:

that ink can change a prideful youth.

So I will write 'til truth is taught

and everlasting grace is sought.

Before I die, for what it's worth,

I'll pray for one more poets birth -

to carry on, to take my place,

to teach more youth of every race.

So dab I ink, on end of quill,

until a younger poet will...

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Pencil War 7-4-11

It will erase the phrase it writes,

that's written on a page -

at other times it writes more words...

it's difficult to gauge.

There is a war that's going on,

that's not on land or sea.

A thousand times my pencil flips,

the two just can't agree.

The selfish lead, the soft eraser -

the two can't get along.

They both appear so far apart.

Each thinks the other wrong.

Their battles seem to linger on -

Confusion wills to grow.

This poem is of truth and love.

Conclusions, can we know?

Am I just like my pencil,

that I take off the shelf -

fumbling between my fingers,

at war within myself?

Am I just like my pencil,

in incoherent bind?

Does warring begin or finish,

within my mixed-up mind?

Seek I, the left, or to my right -

or back, or simply stop?

My mind runs in full circles as

the pencil fights nonstop.

The truth still lives - the answer, one,

to settle this whole score -

until then I, a traitor am,

inside my pencil war.

The truthful words, I'll never find,

or my complete reward -

unless I search the Holy Word

and listen to my Lord.

I compromise my writing,

and it is always blurred -

if I can't lay my pencil down

to comprehend God's Word.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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A Poet 6-18-11

A poet writes no poems

despite his greatest work -

despite his countless hours

to smooth out every quirk.

Though pray and meditate, we do -

though writing's very fun -

though diligent and gifted,

we can't write even one.

A poem's written long before

a poet lifts his pen -

and sets on paper solemn thoughts

that's given him from Heaven.

For God sends down His blessings,

raining from above -

and He will send His wisdom too,

if first, we seek His love.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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Proverbs 2: 1-10 (NASB)
1 My son, if you will receive my words
And treasure my commandments within you,
2 Make your ear attentive to wisdom,
Incline your heart to understanding;
3 For if you cry for discernment, 

Lift your voice for understanding;
4 If you seek her as silver
And search for her as for hidden treasures;
5 Then you will discern the fear of the LORD
And discover the knowledge of God.
6 For the LORD gives wisdom;
From His mouth come knowledge and understanding.
7 He stores up sound wisdom for the upright;
He is a shield to those who walk in integrity,
8 Guarding the paths of justice,
And He preserves the way of His godly ones.
9 Then you will discern righteousness and justice
And equity and every good course.
10 For wisdom will enter your heart
And knowledge will be pleasant to your soul;