"I want to thank all those who come from around the world and read the poetry that God has inspired me with to make the world a more pleasant and peaceful place. This site shall always be totally free for everyone with no tracking, pop-up ads & videos or other distractions." ~louis gander

August 28, 2005

POSSESSIONS 8-28-05


This was written on Aug. 28th 2005, coincidently the day before Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans.

Your house is big and beautiful.
It's filled with the very best treasures and antiques.
Your clothes stuff the closets.
Your food stuffs your shelves (and your mouth).
Your pictures prove your happy life.
Your furniture is tops.
Your yard is trimmed with the most beautiful white picket fence.
Your garage is filled with every toy imaginable.
Your car in the driveway is the envy of all the neighbors.
And just maybe your life is full of fun and more fun.
You have it made...
Today.

But of tomorrow you are unaware.

A hurricane or tornado carries it far away.
Or a flood floats it all away.
Or a fire devours it all.
Or an earthquake swallows it whole.
Or your heart stops.

God is in control of every breath we take.
And we deserve our medicine.
-But like an angry child.
WE get mad at HIM.

The echo carries on.
From 2,000 years ago.
Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.

Man slows no tornado.
Man stops no flood.
Man quenches no volcanic fire.
Man cancels no earthquakes.
Man will not live forever.
Man is not God.

Believe in yourself, or believe in God.
It is your freedom of choice.

©2005 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

-------

Nothing 8-28-05


There is nothing.
I have nothing.
I eat nothing.
I drink nothing.
I own nothing.
I do nothing.
I see nothing.
I hear nothing.
I feel nothing.
I smell nothing.
I taste nothing.
I know nothing.
I am nothing -
except that God makes it so....

©2005 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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LIFE and DEATH 8-28-05

A gentle breeze,
a flowing stream;
the trees of green,
a pleasant dream.

Food I'd waste,
in hurried haste;
for all I faced,
in that rat race.

Why stood me here,
hand to my ear;
want for a cheer,
to come each year?

Accomplishments,
were not by me;
but all was He,
who lived in me.

There is no song,
now that I'm gone;
plant under lawn,
I say, "So long".

Sweat-less my brow,
no matter now;
not horse or cow;
my final bow.

This is increase,
I have my lease;
so let me cease,
and rest in peace.

©2005 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED