Gander Story Poems

January 10, 2013

Obeyed? 1-10-13

Here is another true story poem (summer 1934)

about my grandmother (Ida) and my mother (Ruth)

who traveled every day between their farm at North Clayton, Wisconsin

to to deliver cream to Soldier's Grove as told to me by my mother.

(Told in 'first person' from my mother's perspective...)

I had got on and sat upon our wagon load of goods.

all set to view the country hue on rustic road through woods.

But mom said no, I couldn't go. I rarely ever stayed -

but this time did so down I slid. I'm glad that I obeyed.

Our old wagon, always saggin' had rough, rugged boards -

but it did hold that precious load as she had started towards -

the creamery - a guarantee - of how we paid our bills -

in such a life, excessive strife - through vale against the hills.

She left that day on road of clay delivering with care -

four dusty mile - with grimaced smile - and cream that must get there.

Familiar sounds - some barking hounds, a crow up in a tree -

and tough routine, unlike a queen, that she would never see.

Out of the blue without a clue -around a curve and hill -

a drunken guy - flew passing by - like she was sitting still -

then ripped the side of Topsy's hide and threw mom off her seat.

She landed hard, but not too scarred, between the horses feet.

Though somewhat numb, she scrambled some from under hooves and wheels.

A bit perplexed, what happened next - she scrambled and did feel,

a massive rock where she took stock and hid as God provides.

Protected there in silent prayer from grace that never hides.

Some seconds spent, bewilderment, that held them there at bay -

so trampled not, she never got - before they ran away.

She tried to nurse ol' Topsy's curse. Oh, why did God allow -

old Topsy's death with its last breath and further hardships now?

The wagon load could not be sold. I thought that I would scream.

But mama taught that I ought not - to cry over spilled cream.

Is life not fair? Does God not care? Well, mama knew His way...

Obeyed was why - so safe was I. She thanked the Lord that day.

I had got on and sat upon our wagon load of goods.

all set to view the country hue on rustic road through woods.

But mom said no, I couldn't go. I rarely ever stayed -

but this time did so down I slid - and glad that I obeyed.

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January 7, 2013

Life Was... 1-7-13

(A true story poem from the summer of 1934 in
Wisconsin as told to me by my mother, Ruth)

Worked like a mule, when not in school, below the scorching sun.

I couldn't treat my calloused feet. My work was never done.

Near idle plows, I milked the cows. A barn, we didn't have -

but under stars, the land was ours and where our cows would calve.

With weary hands I filled the cans. Their tails they would flick -

and sting my eyes while swatting flies. Then bucket, they would kick.

Two hours flat, was done with that, from my familiar stool.

The cows backed off their drinking trough where I put milk to cool.

The morning after, I worked faster, hitching up the team.

One called Nancy, the other Topsy - hauled our milk and cream.

Those two old nags had swayback sags. They were a stubborn lot.

I must confess, they lacked finesse. Race horses, they were not.

The wagon bad, but all we had, so up my brother climbed.

The little whelp was not much help, but "Giddy-up!" he chimed.

As we would sing, the cans would cling the four miles into town.

Population: Twenty seven - but that's if we're around.

With morning sun, that work was done - but now, another day.

We'd fertilize while bread would rise and maybe stack some hay.

I always worked - and never shirked - my duties. I was nine.

But God gave strength to me at length - and life was truly fine.

January 5, 2013

The clouds had wept, yet sun had kept
enough light on my mind -
that I could see weak memories -
that I could never find.

I, at a loss, to see this cross
and of its fuller meaning -
had pondered some and when was done
had saw it all as 'feeling'.

But truth be told, it is of old,
the crafty serpent lied.
So overflowed, that grace of gold,
the day that Jesus died.

Was God's design that sunlight shine
on my eternal soul?
Did I assess my faithfulness?
For He is in control!

A ray of hope, a saving rope
with hallowed grace divine -
relieved my stress through Holiness
for true forgiveness, mine.

When faith survived, death was deprived
on earth, as up above.
Death isn't black. With Jesus back
I'm flooded with His love!

January 1, 2013

Signs 1-1-13

(A true story poem. Reflecting back to my childhood in the 1960's.)

There, spaced along the highway were twelve inexpensive signs.

Just simple words of black on white next to some rigid pines.

The signs were spaced just far enough they caught my drifting eye -

so pondered I, each single sign as they went marching by...

---

"For God..." "so loved..." "the world..." "that He gave..." "His only..." "begotten Son..."

"that whosoever..." "believeth in Him..." "should not perish..."

"but have..." "everlasting life..." "John 3:16"

---

So many times from grandma's house we read 'John three-sixteen' -

and millions more had seen this verse against those evergreen.

My dad, my mom, my brother, I - in humbleness did read

those words as we were driving by and faithfully would heed.

Now who had thought of doing this and painted them with care?

Who dug the holes in God's green earth and set them up to share -

to other people driving by so they too could embrace

this verse of loving kindness - of vast forgiving grace?

I read those words each time we passed and wondered who'd take time

and paint the words for profit not - not even for a dime.

I wondered who that man had been each time that we passed by -

and wondered as some years had passed - whose signs had caught my eye.

Yes, even as a teen I thought, who painted each of those -

then did the work to put them up? I pondered, just suppose -

he cared not for his pocket book but wanted to impart,

with work and pure compassion - some love within his heart.

Well, nothing lasts forever, therefore sometimes something breaks -

so dad pulled to the shoulder and then hit the car's old brakes.

He took a hammer from the trunk. Bored, waiting for my dad,

I saw him fix a broken sign - and then I knew who had.

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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John 3:16-21 (King James Version)
16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
17 For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world;
but that the world through him might be saved.
18 He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already,
because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.
19 And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world,
and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.
20 For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light,
lest his deeds should be reproved.
21 But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest,
that they are wrought in God.

John 3:16-21 (New American Standard Version)
16 “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son,
that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.
17 For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world,
but that the world might be saved through Him.
18 He who believes in Him is not judged; he who does not believe has been judged already,
because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.
19 This is the judgment, that the Light has come into the world,
and men loved the darkness rather than the Light, for their deeds were evil.
20 For everyone who does evil hates the Light,
and does not come to the Light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.
21 But he who practices the truth comes to the Light,
so that his deeds may be manifested as having been wrought in God.”

John 3:16-21 (New International Version)
16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,
that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.
17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world,
but to save the world through him.
18 Whoever believes in him is not condemned,
but whoever does not believe stands condemned already
because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.
19 This is the verdict: Light has come into the world,
but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil.
20 Everyone who does evil hates the light,
and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed.
21 But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light,
so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.

December 23, 2012

First In Line? 12-24-12

Can Christmas be a day we change - a day we should distort?

And is the line to Santa long - but line to Jesus short?

We want to be the first in line because who wants to wait?

Who wants to waste their precious time? To this, can we relate?

Yet can it be a selfishness that leads a person where,

the line is much, much longer because Santa's sitting there?

After all, does he not give the many toys away?

Should focus, we, on our desires on this important day?

Though Santa is the one who gives to those who did behave -

is Jesus' line much shorter because He already gave?

Eternal life is only for the humble who believe -

and selfish people aren't content for blessings they receive.

Now God may send us Angels - a youngster may appear -

and ask a simple question that will form a wiser tear.

A tear that's full of living joy, sent down in grace above.

A tear that's rolling down a cheek. A tear born out of love.

Now here's the line to Jesus. Remember, it is fine -

no matter where we are right now - to kneel down first in line.

We may be in the cities or out on country farms -

but children who find Jesus are - already in His arms...

...the greatest gift of all.

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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December 19, 2012

Love To Love 12-19-12

It started out as others, when I got dressed today -

ate breakfast with my fam'ly, for that was just our way.

You dropped me off at school. Your love shone in your eyes.

We hugged and kissed each other. We said our last "Goodbye's".

As I stepped to the entrance, I turned around once more -

and waved to you one final time - then stepped on through the door.

I saw some other teachers. They do what teachers do.

They all had smiled, said "hi" to me - and I said "hi" back too.

I soon got to my classroom. Some other friends were there.

I chatted with my classmates some and then sat in my chair.

Obey the teachers, I was taught. I followed every rule -

but no one knew that this would be, our final day at school.

Life usually, will glide along - and all goes fairly well -

but those are times we soon forget how close we are to hell.

We soon forget that God is love and hates our every sin -

but selfish man gets what he wants as he is dead within.

Not even one short moment here, should ever pass us by -

where Jesus holds our inner thoughts and we don't question why.

Though God hates sin - do we as much? For what man wishes, weaves -

his 'wants' to be accepted - until himself deceives.

From smoking, drugs and alcohol or any selfish thing -

there's someone who will pay the price for what these habits bring.

Why is it there are people who will only love to hate.

I pray that others will be saved - before it is too late.

Oh, why do we love other 'gods' including 'killing games'?

Why do we swear, show disrespect, call God [our Father] names?

Why don't we often worship - honor father, mother?

Why are we never faithful - steal, lie and murder?

Why are we very jealous, envious and covet?

Why not confess, repent? Oh, why will we not do it?

I heard that last announcement. Today, pure evil flowed.

Now I'm okay. I'm in HIS arms, because HE loves me so.

I know it's hard to hold back tears from feeling deeply blue -

but I so love you mommy still - and Jesus says so too.

I'm so amazed to see this place you couldn't even dream of -

a place of immense beauty - where we all love to love.

In memory of the 20 children and 6 adults killed
at Sandy Hook School in Newtown, CT

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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December 16, 2012

Twenty Angels 12-16-12

Pure evil smashed through fragile doors
at lives misunderstood -
fought cowardly in anger -
with twenty Angels, good.

Then hero's lives were sacrificed
as many children hid.
We cannot make the pieces fit -
but twenty Angels did.

So now there's something in my eyes
there's dampness on my cheek -
and I can feel the echo when
those twenty Angels speak.

The question that I struggle with -
is, "Where do Angels go?"
I'm not sure of the answer, but
our twenty Angels know.

In memory of the 20 children and 6 adults killed
at Sandy Hook School in Newtown, CT

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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I'll Not Forget 12-16-12

My little Angel sat in school

to learn her A B C's -

yet no one knows the 'half of it'

to put my mind at ease...

There's something in the way I talk

that seems so different now -

that weighs me down here on my knees

and makes me take this vow:

I'll not forget those days we spent

together - you and me.

I'll not forget our memories

and they will always be.

I'll not forget your sunshine smile,

the freckles on your skin.

I'll not forget your flood of love

that flowed from deep within.

I'll not forget our little games

we played - like 'hide and seek'.

I'll not forget your kisses from

your lips upon my cheek.

I'll not forget those little tears -

those times I saw you weep -

then mixed with mine, ran down my cheek

before you fell asleep.

I'll not forget your final hug

was very, very tight.

I'll not forget your final wave

was such a lovely sight.

I'll not forget your first small step

or your first day at school.

I'll not forget God's wonderment -

my precious little jewel.

I'll not forget your favorite clothes,

or favorite ice cream choice.

I'll not forget your little ears

that heard your teacher's voice.

My little Angel sat in school

to learn her A B C's -

It's God who knows 'the all of it'

that puts my mind at ease...

In memory of the 20 children and 6 adults killed
at Sandy Hook School in Newtown, CT

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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December 11, 2012

Born Again 12-11-12

Oh, how I thought I knew it all when I was in my youth -

but as I turn in circles now I find an ugly truth -

that time had shut a door on each decision I had made

and now I have to suffer from the high price I have paid.

Now Jesus led me as a youth but I had vainly went

the stubborn way I wanted to. My whole life I had spent -

going my own selfish way through each and every door -

and thinking that each new one was much better than before.

But then I looked around me as the final door slammed shut.

So stunned, I was - completely - as it echoed in my gut.

I walked through each door willingly to get to where I am -

and now my soul is naked as I stand in front of Him.

But then my God allowed me there to reach back with my hand

and open up that final door. I didn't understand...

I stepped back through and found myself where I had been last week -

and then I saw another door so took another peek.

It too, had opened up for me - so I stepped through again -

and there I was two weeks ago right back where I had been.

So on and on I went through doors as fast as I could run -

until I was a child again - then back where I'd begun.

Now this time I will have no pride and this time I won't fight.

I'll follow in His footsteps and I'll follow Him just right.

Now each door that God opens makes us one close happy team -

and everything goes perfect 'til I wake up from my dream.

---

I only had one lonely chance to live an upright way -

but I messed up. I put me here. There is no more to say...

except that Jesus pulls me from my putrid, sinful grime -

and gives me one more final chance to get it right this time.

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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December 8, 2012

Nativity Christmas 12-8-12

Does someone call as snowflakes fall

upon my window sill?

There comes a sleigh. The horses neigh,

in spirit of goodwill.

There's not a breeze. My mind's at ease.

They bid me, "Come" they say.

So I step out. There is no doubt -

that this is Christmas Day.

I hop aboard and ride on toward -

a town that's splashed with sights.

I look ahead at green and red.

I love those Christmas lights.

The air is crisp. I see a wisp -

on front of horses' mane -

that bounce with pep at every step.

The horses do not wane.

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Heard sleigh bells chime throughout that time

until I got to town -

And hooves had clopped until they stopped

as I arrived downtown.

Nativity... I smiled with glee -

heard carols in the air.

The shepherds spied. The three Magi

saw Jesus sleeping there.

A camel knelt. In joy they dwelt -

in cushioned stable hay -

A scene on earth of virgin birth -

where one man came to pray.

A poor old man, all wrinkled tan,

was kneeling on the ground.

His hair was messed but he was blessed

as snow fell all around.

Some kids walked through, in contrast to -

his humble situation.

And then they felled the cane he held,

reckless recognition.

God woos each one who seek His Son -

but they paid no attention.

I heard them joke each time they spoke

within their own dimension.

He reached in vain to get his cane.

His countenance was grim -

then heard him say, "wife passed away."

as I gave it to him.

Through eyelids tight, they drew my sight -

I saw more tears come through.

It touched my heart, tore me apart -

so I knelt down there too.

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Snowflakes falling, Jesus calling -

calling from above.

Can you live it? Christmas spirit -

wooing all, in love...

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Mark 2:14 (KJV)
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

December 3, 2012

A Perfect Masterpiece 12-3-12

Peered I, up to the heavens. So stunned, I stood in awe.

His hand swept over East to West and this is what I saw...

A sight exposing every truth, that made me nearly faint.

A sight, that in a million years, no man could ever paint.

A special, brand new masterpiece that God creates each day.

A special, brand new vision that He gives along my way.

I see a vast creation that is pure outside and in

before His work is tarnished by horrendous, evil sin.

He paints His skies so differently. No two are just the same.

He paints the creatures on the earth - the wild and the tame.

The sunsets over mountain peaks are not identical -

and snowflakes falling from the sky? Not precisely equal...

The clouds are floating freely with the breeze on clear thin air.

Though no two skies are just alike, they share the canvas there.

And no two meadows look the same as I walk down His path.

I see no trees identical when grown through nature's wrath.

Not equal are the mountain streams or creatures of the wild.

And so unique the sunsets are - as faces of a child.

So patiently, a flower bud waits ready to unfurl.

A swirl of brilliant petals bloom. I see a little girl.

Her whole life laid in front of her that she became forthwith -

another link within the chain this world had yanked her with.

Priorities had dragged her from her work to shopping mall.

And every day, a masterpiece - yet she had missed them all.

Now richly dressed as all the rest who never seemed to care,

she peered inside a cancer ward and saw young children there.

She saw the face of one small boy with cute and chubby cheeks -

and though the tears had dried away she saw the many streaks.

They washed away the happiness in life so short, but giving -

as sin has made the sky to fall on innocent still living.

God waves His hand across the sky, but have I failed to see -

out way beyond my own routine, beyond my vanity?

God paints a perfect masterpiece on each and every child.

I finally saw His masterpiece when that young child smiled.

Peered I, up to the heavens. Through tears, I prayed in awe.

His hand swept over East to West and that is what I saw...

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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November 27, 2012

America! 11-27-12

They're Patriots, they're fighting! But Lord, who understands?

Their gift to heirs was liberty, was fragile in their hands.

A liberty that's priceless and was paid with hero's blood,

but liberty that's fragile and as latent as a bud.

Some day the waves of grain will grow in nation gold and bright -

but now the revolution's fight is questioned whether right...

I see a sacrifice so great, from will that never bends,
I see the loss of families, their farms and closest friends.

I see that they were tested greatly under Washington -

and they were tested all the more in battle that was won.

Yes, tested with the seasons that brought hot and cold extremes,

and tested with great trials that had crushed the smallest dreams.

So many lost a limb or two. Some others met their grave,

but great were all the freedoms that to us they freely gave.

Now we'd enjoy these freedoms, if - we care to really own

and guard with every vote so that our freedoms could be sown -

to later generations that would seize the free baton -

to hold our fragile liberties so freedom carries on.

Years later, I saw clamoring and stumbling unsure -

and one by one God-given rights were trampled here under -

the feet of every voter who demanded more and more -

the money clear from Washington 'til all of us were poor.

They argued, as in protest and they fervently appealed,

to eat up necessary seed for next year's harvest yield -

and voted for more cretins who would place their final bet

on wasteful obligations that would pile up more debt.

Naive we are and so deceived with all the 'pc' spin,

"He'll give you lots more money if you'll simply vote for him!"

They buy our selfish, greedy votes and bribe us all until

elected, they're securely fixed right there up on 'The Hill'.

So arrogant, those cretins are, that they need never hide.

They know their office is secure and wear this thing called 'pride'.

They promise us a silver moon (that's moldy old swiss cheese -

with holes in thick promises that shift there with the breeze).

So powerless we all become when they tie up our hands.

They hasten us and chasten us - yet no one understands..!

There's just no more that we can give, for they have taken all -

in taxes, fines and hidden fees, licenses, et al.

They rushed so quickly to the aid of those too big to fail -

and then ignored the rest of us that they refused to bail.

Collecting campaign contributions from the greedy ones -

they then give them the very last of our few meager funds.

Refusing to repent and out beyond the furthest hope,

I see a country dangling from an unforgiving rope -

from poor results that legalized and drove our morals loose.

I see inflated, selfish heads above a tightened noose.

The feet still kick and wiggle as we take our final breath -

and offer no assurance from a sad and certain death -

because we still refuse the God of patient, certain wrath!

Oh, how can we complain when "we, the people" chose our path?

We've mortgaged off the waves of grain and every native park!

We've mortgaged every standing tree - the branches, trunks and bark!

We've mortgaged off Mount Rushmore and the Lady Liberty -

who shines so very beautiful! It's pure insanity!!

I see a sacrifice so great - but our 'will' never bends.

We lose our farms and families - we lose our closest friends.

I see we're harshly tested from a Washington DC -

and we'll be tested all the more until our freedoms see...

We're Patriots! We're fighting! But Lord, who understands?

Our gift to heirs, true liberty, is fragile in our hands.

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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November 20, 2012

The Little Elf 11-20-12

Mischievous, the little one -

the selfish, little elf -

the one who looks and listens for

the things which help himself.

Though brilliant colors are defined,

I'm blind and cannot see.

Since birth my world was always dark.

I ask myself, "Why me?"

My doctor says there is no hope.

No music will there be.

My world is quiet. I can't hear.

I ask myself, "Why me?"

I've worked my fingers to the bone.

I've paid each tax and fee.

But now the banks are taking all.

I ask myself, "Why me?"

My teachers say I'm special.

My friends and all agree.

Then mom tells me to make my bed.

I ask myself, "Why me?"

He fell to knees most fervently -

the place? Gethsemane.

Though God did not 'remove His cup',

did Jesus ask, "Why me?"

So lazy, greedy, prideful, vain -

oh, how can I complain?

My prayers are simply mockeries

if I know not His pain.

Pain that He endures each time

that I think of myself -

for He's the Master Teacher - and

I'm the little 'elf'...

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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