One Little Wave 2-11-18

A non-eventful morn it was

as many were before.

The sun came up exposing life

just off the sandy shore.

The winds blew in across the lake

creating quite a stir -

and waves grew up from nothing yet

there's lessons to infer.

I followed just one little wave

to see what it would do.

It seemed to be behaving well

or did I misconstrue?

Between two other waves it moved

across the little lake.

It'd sometimes try to reach up high

which was its first mistake.

For what it saw were waves ahead

so he became aghast.

Why, they were all in front of him -

while he had followed last!

Each time it swelled to reach up high

it wanted to be seen -

but then it'd drop back down again

and stay there in-between.

Then those two waves on either side

had closed in on the one -

which raised him up just high enough

he glittered in the sun.

"Hey, look at me!" he seemed to say -

with ego growing large.

He liked- no, he demanded that

alone, he'd lead the charge.

So there he rode above the rest -

now highest wave of all.

And there he took in all of life

which made him feel tall.

Behind, he looked - and saw those waves

applauding- east to west.

His popularity increased

as you might well have guessed.

So there he was still looking back

with ev'ry want and whim.

While riding high, he saw those waves -

those waves that followed him.

But life is short, so very short -

and most don't understand -

that hourglass starts running low

with top devoid of sand.

Applause was great and greatness too

while he sought even more -

but suddenly his time ran out

in death on other shore.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Great Man 2-2-18

How big is the ocean?

How tall is the sail?

How big is the clipper?

How tall is the tale?

How big is the great man?

How tall is his pride?

How big is his ego

that flows from inside?

How loud is his boasting?

How loud is his horn?

How loud is his bragging,

yet quiet, our scorn?

How many, a promise?

How many times said?

How many believe him?

How many mislead?

Oh, where hides the shyness

and where hides the man -

when big man is lessened

as when he began?

How short is the thistle

and shorter, the thorn -

but great is the torment

when foot's skin is torn?

Transparent, his actions,

transparent, each thought -

and God does not 'know' him

because he was bought;

First by the minute,

Then by a smell -

of fire and brimstone,

by Devil in hell.

Exposed is the thistle.

Exposed is the gloom.

He's naked as baby

right out of the womb.

How fake were his pledges?

How fake was his stride?

How fake was his swagger

before he had died?

Does God see the motive?

Does God look within?

Does God judge the great man

when God knows his sin?

Beware of the ego.

Beware of the pride.

Beware of temptations

in life's fleeting ride.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Matthew 7:21-23 (KJV)

21 Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.

22 Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?

23 And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.

His Land 1-13-18

I think I have solutions to

our country's deep disgrace.

I think I have the answers to

the problems that we face.

Yet heroes fought and died for me,

so who am I to brag?

Oh, who am I to claim to be

the bearer of our flag?

Deserve I little comfort now.

Let bombs burst in the sky!

While I encumber those like me

our taxes go sky high.

I vote for those who promise things,

that put food on my shelf.

I vote for free stuff I can get

that benefits myself.

Are we a nation full of sin

that we have not a clue?

Greed has so unraveled threads

of our red, white and blue.

The red continues running as

the white becomes blood-stained.

The blue has faded into gray.

We all should be ashamed.

And politician's greed and graft

I also will speak of.

It seems that they have helped themselves.

For country, they've no love.

Great heroes fought and died for them,

so who are they to brag?

And who are they to claim to be

the bearers of our flag?

If they, nor I, have right to bear

our flag that we hold high -

then who can be our leaders now

when all we do is lie?

With lobbyists and twisted words

our country cannot stand.

Yes, God will one day judge us all -

for this is still His land.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Now That Is Peace 12-19-17

Small snowflakes float on easy breeze -

without an effort, find the trees.

Now that is peace.

They rest upon the solid branch,

upon the roof of humble ranch.

Now that is peace.

They settle on a rail fence

without a thought, without suspense.

Now that is peace.

They blanket softly, all around,

upon the leaves upon the ground.

Now that is peace.

The Christmas snow reflects all light

from its decor with such delight.

Now that is peace.

More snowflakes settle.  They're unheard -

as Heaven speaks without a word.

Now that is peace.

The stars above, they sparkle too -

a gift from God, to me, to you.

Now that is peace.

Without the pomp and circumstance,

the scenic beauty is romance.

Now that is peace.

A babe in manger once was born -

without the fanfare, without horn.

Now that is peace.

Through virgin love, through virgin birth -

A blanket grace for all on earth.

Now that is peace. 

So why this blanket when it snows?

So why this gift?  The Christian knows.
Now that is peace.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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But Grace 12-9-17

When I think back at my whole life that I have spent on earth -

and when I think of all the wrong that I have done since birth -

for selfishly I'd done my will.
My life was all for me.

I wonder how God loves me still

and wants me to be free?

I failed my spouse, I failed my kids, I failed my screaming boss,

I failed my ever patient God - and also, too, the cross.

I wonder why He sent His Son,

I lied and lied and lied.

I selfishly had been just one -

one reason that He died.

But God is patient, more than I.  He's waited many years -

for me to find that faithfulness, for me to come to tears.

I wonder why He loves me still.

I wonder why He cares.

I need that mustard seed to grow.

Does He not hear my prayers?

And pray, can I, a sinner's prayer?  What right have I to pray?

What right have I to anything with life in disarray?

But grace is mine and that's because

mere works do not suffice.

I have no right, but Jesus does -

because He paid the price.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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That Distant Light 11-24-17

The air was calm below the palm

so rested, I awhile.

I stared across the quiet lake

with my own lazy smile.

The sun had set and I had let

the time just slip away.

I lost myself among my thoughts

and it had seemed okay.

Reflections though, had taught me so.

There's something you should know -

how they reflect the real thing

in fascinating show.

There's no delight in distant light

where nothing misbehaves -

But watch those sparkles dancing on

the tops of rippled waves.

That shimmer see, will always be

from light across the lake.

That dancing drew attention from

the light that isn't fake.

Half-way across the lake they tossed.

They glittered brilliantly.

Deceiving, long reflections as
that light shone silently.

I liked the show - reflection's glow -

and there was nothing feared.

But when that distant light turned off,

reflections disappeared.

Was I deceived?  Did I believe

that distant light, God's Son?

Or focused I, on rituals -

merely the reflection?

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Covered Bridge 11-17-17

Still washing o'er and 'round the rocks,

the splashing rapids pass the fox.

They pass the beavers before dawn.

They pass the doe.  In time, the fawn.

The chipmunks work.  The 'possums too.

The river flows past me and you.

Time doesn't stop.  It knows not how

with covered bridge before us now.

The water moves, the river flows.

God makes it so.  That's how it goes.

The bridge we walk is like our birth -

A fresh red coat for what it's worth.

Like ol' homestead, the bridge is red,

but it seems brighter here instead.

Enjoying travels, springtime views -

no other roadway, we would choose.

The hewn-cut logs are under foot.

And all our faith in God, we put.

Each step we take, we hear the boards.

Experiences bring rewards.

Then walking past the eight by eights,

a calendar of days and dates,

they hold the roof that keeps us dry -

like summer rains as we pass by.

Then near the end, the autumn air -

brings me to tears to know we're there.

Life seems so fast- like rushing dream -

like splashing rapids of the stream.

As she steps off, I see her go.

Yet she's in Heaven.  That I know.

I pause some here as I recall -

our great relationship and all...

Those times together I still see -

forever always, her and me.

Love and devotion, God gave both.

Remember well, our Christian growth.

I see her bright and smiling face.

My mem'ries hold, as her embrace.

I hear her voice - fresh as the breeze.

Her songbirds echo still from trees.

The bridge, now old, weathered a bit.

And soon, we too, will step from it.

A moment's pause.  I see them too.

These colored leaves are much like you.

A blanket, soft of powdered snow -

will come one day - and this I know -

will cover road and cover bridge,

cover trees and winter's ridge.

The sunset's bright.  I see the moon.

So please be patient - see you soon.

The things of earth just keep changing -

but never God.  He's amazing.

Still washing o'er and 'round the rocks,

the splashing rapids pass the fox.

They pass the beavers before dawn.

They pass the doe.  In time, the fawn.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Last Duckling, The 10-14-17

Free will expressed in God's likeness

and formed in wonder's love.

With utmost care, He made me there,

at home in Heav'n above.

But after birth right here on earth

it wasn't really fair.

They all made fun of waddled run

and no one seemed to care.

There was no drake out on the lake,

but breeze was cool and fine.

Mother struggling, seven duckling -

with me, the last in line.

Sometimes my feet could not compete -

so I would lag behind.

But she would wait- me motivate -

for she was patient, kind.

Then peril sent an accident.

My legs went nearly lame.

They laughed again at my chagrin

and slower, I became.

In Godly way, my mom would pray.

She loved me even more.

With lots of skill and her big bill,

she'd nudge me up on shore.

And there I'd praise the sunshine's rays

next to my mother's charm.

And always there, my mom would care

protecting me from harm.

Through many jobs I'd hear her sobs.

She had the biggest heart.

I must attest, she was the best

'til death pulled us apart.

As time goes by I often cry.

It's sad to swim alone.

The only love that I knew of

was what my mom had shown.

I am not strong. I have done wrong.

I was the least of sev'n.

Lord, call me back.  Please call me back.

Please call me back to Heav'n.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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And Colors Each 10-7-17

Do we know with His rainbow, there's life among the trees?

What message comes from God above through autumn's colored leaves?

Does a willow display YELLOW just to send a small alarm -

to caution us from danger so we're free from Satan's harm?

Does the bright glow of the ORANGE show a way to raise our spirits?

Down through the years, does wisdom claim we shouldn't call it quits?

And does the RED mean Jesus bled to save us from our sin -

that we would turn our life around and be born once again?

Do the GOLDEN leaves embolden us to face another day?

Our golden years are not to waste, but live in Godly way.

And does the GREEN that's still between all us and many others -

prove that God still gives us life among the many colors?

Please understand God's faithful and His great creation thrives.
He paints, each fall, a masterpiece and colors each our lives.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Kitchen War 9-30-17

Discussions were beginning in the kitchen fraught with hate -

and anger soon was spreading with the "who was best" debate.

"I'm protein for the people," said the big roast to the greens.

"I am so much better than potatoes, corn and beans."

"Without my oven you are absolutely nothing around here,"

said the stove so loudly so that all the rest could hear.

Close by was some oregano, paprika and some clove.

"Oh, do not boast for you are but an old and rusted stove. 

Said the sea salt to the spices, "Here's some good advice.

If you can't add some flavor,  you're no better than the rice."

Said the white rice to the sea salt, "Let me say a thing or two.

The spices have a million times more flavor than you do.

The fridge could not stay silent and the toaster now was hot.

Disposal?  It was spinning while the blender had forgot.

And that is how it started as the food began to fly.

Please tell me why there's no respect.  Please tell me, tell me why.

From floor to wall to ceiling, there was food stuck everywhere.

And you could even see the peas come bouncing down the stair.

The bragging had continued and the sink began to boast!

Then gravy splashed the window...and the fork had stabbed the roast!

The big 'ol roast let out a acream.  "I'm dying!" was his yell.

It rolled right off the table and on the floor it fell.

The hush was so immediate and no one said a word.

No sound was heard except from one small window perching bird.

Hysterically, it laughed and laughed.  I thought it'd blow its cork.

And then we all had seen it too - that cheap weak plastic fork.

The laughter had crescendoed and it filled that messy room.

But then who had to clean it up?  The dustpan and the broom.

Not one had learned a lesson and not one humility.

They still each think they are the best.  That's how they'll always be -

UNLESS they all repent and learn of God's most precious Son.

ONLY THEN can  we have peace for each and everyone.

Until then we will be at odds.  Until then we will fight.

Until then we will be at war - and world a messy sight.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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God's Little Paradise 9-23-17

Between the path and lake I sit.  The weather sure is nice.

Creation here continues in God's little paradise.

I shut my eyes and listen to the dried up autumn leaves

that dance upon the pathway with the swirling twirling breeze.

I listen to the splattering of waves upon the shore.

I soak up sounds around me and I wait to hear some more.

A squirrel hesitates a bit, then races up a tree.

With eyes still shut I see it all and find it fully free.

I hear the wind.  I hear His voice.  I hear the angels sing.

I take in all that Heaven has.  I treasure everything.

I hear a frog and chirping birds.  I hear a quacking duck.

And far away a jingle from a roaming ice cream truck.

The grasses whisper tunes of old to leaves still on the trees.

My heart cries out for little ones, the least...  the least of these.

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

If I could only pass His love to each and everyone...

If I could only find the words to close all nation's eyes -

then maybe they could see Him too with spirit-piercing eyes.

If only faithful they could be, so they could see His face.

If only I could find the words so they could see this place.

With eyes still shut, I reminisce of all that God has giv'n.

My friends, our days on earth are short and after this a Heaven.

Between the lake and path I sit.  The weather sure is nice.
Creation here continues in God's little paradise.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Forgive Me Please 8-27-17

If you're in earshot of my voice

Regret, I do, my ev'ry choice

that brought you pain and brought you tears.

Forgive me please, for all these years.

I toss and turn here on my bed.

Forgive me please, for all I've said.

Deserve I nothing - that I know -

for damage done so long ago.

I lost your faithful selfless love

and caused you hurt I know not of.

I broke so many of God's laws.

I weep at pain my sins have caused.

Your face reveals a giant hole

that I put in your heart and soul.

Your innocence, may God observe.

Forgiveness I do not deserve.

If time could slow... if time could stall...

if time reversed... I'd change it all.

For things I've done, there's no excuse.

And healing, I cannot produce.

BUT GOD can make the crooked straight,

wipe tears away and then create.

Please talk to Him and don't conceal

your heavy heart that needs to heal.

If you're in earshot of my voice

Regret, I do, my ev'ry choice

that brought you pain and brought you tears.
Forgive me please, for all these years.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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This Unknown Man 8-20-17

This man, unknown, still walks alone

among the villainous -

among the thorns and wild horns,

inside our wilderness.

Day after day in dark dismay

the years tread slowly by.

Night after night, who knows his plight -

who knows the truth of 'why'?

So far above, the clouds lack love

for such a lowly man.

They give advice and are not nice

as they are better than...

The waters called and are appalled

at what this man had done.

And from the deep, they make a leap -

accused this lowly one.

But trees are friends and off they fend

the blizzards that blow bold -

and warmth from rock will always mock

the wind and  bitter cold.

Yet sharp the fangs of hunger pangs,

for food is scarce at best.

Though so deprived, can he survive

this all-important test?

He won't complain in all his pain

and so, is not ashamed -

for trees all stand so quiet and

they too, remain unnamed.

From scorching heat, they are not beat.

They brave the elements.

They do not cry.  They do not die

despite impediments.

If in review, you only knew

what all that he withstood -

while making peace with trout and geese,

then lived the best he could.

I understand this unknown man -

as you might guess the clues.

Each step by step with him I kept -

for I walk in his shoes.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Where All Time Stands Still 7-21-17

I found myself in desperate hope -

I couldn't sing, I couldn't cope

with city's noise that so annoys

and racing time as sin destroys.

Among the city's working slave

and the great ocean's pounding wave,

the time slipped past and flowed so fast.

I prayed for peace - that it would last.

I'd often pray while I would dream

of peaceful life beside a stream -

where acorns drop from high atop

the tallest trees - where time would stop.

Alarmingly from rocky ledge -

through prayer I found the river's edge.

But there were graves in ocean caves

where men sought shelter from the waves.

I climbed down from my lofty pride

where many stumbled, many died.

In danger, pled I, humble cry

that I should live and never die.

Confessing I, reached deep within

repenting of my ev'ry sin.

And when I found that solid ground,

the grasses, green, were all around.

For all the beauty I did thank
my God along that river bank.

In answered prayer, without a care -

through faithfulness, I found Him there.

And then upstream, a path I took

along a creek, then bubbling brook.
Continued I, to walk on by
all other things that caught my eye.

The water clear, refreshing, clean
was prettier than ever seen.
As if possessed, I couldn't rest -
so feet pressed on.  I was His guest.

Beside His living, bubbling spring.
I found my voice and I can sing.

It is so sweet.  It is complete.
All time stands still with no repeat.

I tarry there in peaceful prayer.

I'm in His arms and do not care

for futile lies and futile cries

of man's deceptions as he dies.

His living spring of water lives!

It never takes - but always gives.

I sought His will and found the thrill

of living where all time stands still.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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If Teardrop You Can't Be 6-17-17

I was one drop of water with so many, many more,

here falling from the Heavens under great big thunderous roar.

The massive lake below me was so very long and wide.

It seemed that I was dropping near the shore on eastern side.

I saw a pitter-pattering of raindrops on the lake.

I wondered when my time would come - how big of splash I'd make.

But then God sent a burst of wind that blew me over land -

I thought how futile life would be, if sank I, into sand.

As I descended, there appeared a flat, but massive stone.

I saw a little boy in tears, there sitting all alone.

I'd rather be a tear, I thought, than droplet from the sky -

for I'll accomplished little.  Oh, what little worth have I?

A raindrop's life is very short.  Accomplishments are few.

In fact, I'd be ecstatic if I was a teardrop too.

I'd care for him and show him I was patient, kind and meek.

I'd live my life right there with him residing on his cheek.

But God had other plans for me inside that noisy cloud -

and so I fell quite fast and free with others in the crowd.

I've learned some things in my short life.  Please lend me all, your ear.

Please do not cry and do not fight and do not ever fear.

Please don't be so discouraged if you're added to the sea.

Just be content to do God's will if teardrop you can't be.

So very few, are special ones.  So very few, are God's.

And sometimes we can't cope with it and so we are at odds.

I hit so hard, that massive stone.  I splattered all around.

But part of me had met those tears and it was quite profound.

Our friendships seem to be God's will - though very short the years.

The teardrops we have met through storms now bring us loving tears.

One friendship, in particular - how very short, it was -

brought ringing rhymes and chiming words.  I know you know, because...

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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What Is It? (Riddle) 6-3-17

Tell me.  What is it?

It doesn't weigh a thing.

You cannot find it in the sky.

It doesn't have a wing.

It has no legs.  It has no hands.

It doesn't have a brain.

But sometimes it just rips you up

and drives you most insane!

Tell me.  What is it?

It doesn't weigh a thing.

You cannot find it in the sea.

It has no mouth to sing.

It has no ears.  It has no eyes.

And please don't ask me why

it sometimes makes you teary-eyed

and makes you want to cry.

Tell me.  What is it?

It doesn't weigh a thing.

You cannot find it over land

but oh, what it can bring -

contentment, joy and happiness,

excitement unsurpassed.

And when it comes from God on high,

we know we have been blessed!

Tell me. What is it?

It's something int'resting.

It makes me want to shout for joy

and makes me want to sing!

It doesn't take.  It always gives -

like sunshine's warmth on chilly day

when kindness bring's the flower's bloom -

which makes LOVE's big and bright bouquet!

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Rainbow-colored Dreams 5-20-17

I chase my rainbow-colored dreams.

They are so grandiose it seems -

until the brilliance goes awry

and colors of the rainbow die.

When I was younger I was told

that I'd be better off when old -

if I would always persevere -

not give up and never fear.

So worked, I did, both day and night.

I gave it all - my fiercest fight.

For over forty years 'til now

the sweat poured off my heavy brow.

The fam'ly loss was inhumane.

The millions lost was bankers' gain.

"Success" was sketched out vividly -

but yet this nightmare came to me.

First Timothy, six and ten,
is proven true again, again.
If love of money's in the heart,

then love for God is torn apart.

Until the brilliance goes awry

and colors of the rainbow die,

I chase my rainbow-colored dreams.
They are so grandiose it seems...

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

----

This Mother's Day 5-13-17

Mere words are insufficient.

Mere words cannot express -

the many tossed emotions

of pain to happiness.

I long to see your face again -

though we are far apart.

I long to hold your hand again

and give you all my heart.

At first I held my feelings back

for which I can't explain.

So now emotions come alive

as with a hurricane!

For I am here and you are there.

There's no where I can turn.

There are no hugs and kisses past

that point of no return.

Oh, how I pray that I could make

my failures up to you.

Yet lost through winds of futile hope,

there's nothing I can do.

Mere time deceives the lazy heart

and says, "It's not a crime -

to wait until the rain has stopped,

then take your good ol' time."

So time has slipped away from me.

So many things it stole.

The greatest?  Not expressing love...

That sorrow rips my soul.

All Heaven knows my mom is there -

so friends, do not delay.

Give any lonely mom you find,

your love this Mother's Day.

©2017 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Rose-petal Mother 4-22-17

The morning dew settles

like tears on rose petals.

They cry out for time to return -

and beckon lost seasons

of God-given reasons

as sad notes on my guitar yearn.

You're queen of the givers.

It brings to me shivers

that I was so selfishly made.

Your name defines 'humble'

as my words now crumble

on flowers that I now invade.

Your hands were like Heaven,

unselfishly given,

beyond just the people you knew -

from city to country,

from wealthy to hungry -

and all of the rest of us too.

As butterflies flutter,

I still try to utter

some truth of your beautiful love.

But now, it is just us -

and words don't bring justice

as sunlight spills down from above.

Those simple deflections

of sunlight's reflections

now glimmer like diamonds at play -

in memories briefly

that I see routinely

as if they were just yesterday.

I am not deserving

of all I'm observing

in memories coming to mind -

surrounded by perfume

with roses in full bloom

recalling that you were most kind.

I'll always remember

that freezing December

when I erred and brought you to tears.

When you found me straying,

for me, you were praying -

and over the many long years.

Some mothers are brand new,

but none can compare to

my rose-petal mother, that's true.

While laughter was looming,

our smiles were blooming.

There's none other better than you.

I do so adore you -

shall always continue.

I'd never trade you for another.

Up deep from the earth-plow,

what words can I sing now?

I love you, my rose-petal mother.

Alive still, your caring,

through rose petal sharing.

So many, I can't see them all.

Afloat on the breezes,

each rose petal eases

the pain of the weak as they fall.

Your petals continue

to live on without you.

They float around ever so free.

Like soft downy feather,

I don't wonder whether

some petals will fall upon me.

It's not at all easy

to sing thoughts so deeply

when sung with my dusty guitar.

I find I've distorted

all good you're recorded.

My rose-petal mother, you are.

And it's not by my choice

I miss hearing your voice,

so moistness now covers my eyes.

With fingers still strumming

I hear myself humming

while words get choked up in my cries.

With eyes very blurry

I'm now in no hurry

to vacate this most sacred place.

I can't be more lonely.

I wish I could only

receive one more loving embrace.

I love you so deeply

that when I am sleepy

see rose petals filling the sky.

My rose-petal mother,

my rose-petal mother,

I'll see you in Heaven...  Bye bye.

©2017 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Mister Dirt 4-17-17

At times abused

but always used -

so does he disapprove?

I should have known

he's left alone.

Himself, he cannot move.

He cannot walk.

He cannot talk.

It seems he is entrapped.

No working ear,

he cannot hear.

Could he be handicapped?

One might deduce

he's of no use

and futile is his time.

And I can tell

he cannot smell.

So poor, he has no dime.

Is he distressed?

Is he depressed?

His life seems very grim.

His name is 'Dirt'.

Should he not hurt

when we're ignoring him?

We pull his weeds

and plant some seeds -

then use the garden hose.

And with a flood

he turns to mud

as everybody knows.

When rain has poured,

we thank the Lord,

that food has filled our room -
then thank the sun

for what its done

when flowers are full bloom.

But how we hide

the dirt outside -

though we don't think we're mean.

Who understands

when washing hands

that we judge Dirt unclean?

We think we know

but wrath will show

when we are judged by God.

Who thanks that soil

for all its toil

when manicured our sod?

No one will thank

the Dirt's low rank.

We entertain with fun!

But Dirt, who cares

with your affairs

and work that you have done?

Can we not sit

and think a bit

of someone we have hurt?

Don't build a wall.

Please thank them all -

including Mister Dirt.

Apologize.

It's always wise

for we've all wronged someone.

Let's live in peace.

Let judgment cease

for God's work isn't done.

©2017 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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