In Language Seldom Heard 1-2-19

Near foot high grass on contoured lands

on winding stream where timber stands,

I longed to be on nature's sod

where furry ones and pilgrims trod.
While sitting there within my dream

on boulder overlooking stream,

I dreamt of living in the wood,

of peace and hopes among the good.

A little fish had caught my eye.

I asked of it, "Please tell me why...

why do you seem so content

without the shelter of a tent?"
It simply made a little splash
and said, "I don't need home or cash.
I am content when water's clean.
I don't need man to intervene".

A little fawn on nearby path

was soaking in a sunlit bath.

I held my breath and held my thrill,

as I sat there so quiet, still.
It's soft tan fur just begged a touch

but me, it didn't care for much.

It jumped off quick around a tree.
Where it had gone, I couldn't see.

I heard a nearby sparrow sing.
It wasn't rich and wasn't king.
But it enjoyed its outdoor space
away from man and human race.
Now it was happy, that I knew,
but when I sang, it quickly flew.
I knew that it would be alright
and watched 'til it was out of sight.

I wondered what would happen next,

what I could write within my text.

I felt the breeze and breathed it in,

then heard all nature's prayer begin.

It was in language seldom heard

from fish or beast or even bird,

yet nature praised the God above

with all its beauty, all its love.

Black city streets are not for me.

The stink, the noise should never be.

Encroaching here upon this scene

are man-made things grossly obscene.

They're out of sync and out of place.

It's just not right, a huge disgrace.

God gave this beauty to the man

and has for us a greater plan.

Our God will bless if we've obeyed,

so please protect what He has made.

All this is God's and that is fine.
It isn't yours and isn't mine.

Creation spoke to me in wood

in lovely word now understood.

Still, I fell short when I replied.

In faded echoes my words died.

©2019 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Gifts 12-22-18

The gift of life.  The gift of air.

The gift of mother's loving care.

The gift of water I can drink.

The gift of mind so I can think.

The gift of sweet and sour taste.

The gift of food that fuels my haste.

The gift of beauty from the rose.

 The gift of fragrance as it grows.

The gift of hearing with my ears.

The gift of feeling through my tears.

The gift of fingertips and touch.

The gift of hugs that matter much.

The gift of singing fav'rite songs.

The gift of healing all my wrongs.

The gift of knowing Jesus Christ.

The gift of grace, so overpriced.

The gift of marriage- man and wife.

The gift of everlasting life.

These gifts of love are on display,
these gifts of God from day to day.

These gifts abundant, always near,
these gifts of God from year to year.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Unequaled Thrill 12-8-18

A placid picture about God, a poet cannot pen.

For who can comprehend it all?  Not selfish, sinful men!

If only eyes could see the truth.  If only ears could hear...

but noise of earthly living seem to make mere words unclear.

Incessant, louder beating drums in earphones is not peace -

and rancid words corrupting minds just seems to never cease.

While sinful men ignore God's words in heart and soul and mind,

the Judge of all the universe is patient, loving, kind.

So grasp your pen with loving thoughts and set your glass aside,

then write to your heart's full content until you're satisfied.

We may not be a preacher that the sinners come to see,

but by our words, through loving hearts, we might a teacher be.

We will not know where our words go, but I can only say -
that if we do not write the words then they aren't on display.

So pen a placid picture on your clear and empty page,

so people see your humble gift that only God can gauge.

Just give all glory unto God and let Him do His will

and may all sinners wake one day to that unequaled thrill.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Hay Ride 11-23-18

Goliath horses paired ahead

were harnessed tight in Christmas red.

They breathed out puffs of cloudy steam.

Excitement made the children scream.

My father lifted me on board.

A seat of straw was our reward.

The chilly air, the mountain peaks

brought smiles to our rosy cheeks.

Anticipation of the ride

had brought me goosebumps deep inside,

but air was frigid, maybe that

had made me pull down tight, my hat.

Afford, dad couldn't, warmer clothes.
Inside my boots were frozen toes.
I wiggled them as best I could.
I hugged my mom.  She understood.

It seemed too thick and seemed too wide
when scarf, around my neck, was tied.
My mittens too, were very thin.
but knew that soon, we would begin.

There were, on board, a lot of folks,

(while most were quiet, some told jokes),

yet there was room for ev'ryone

and with a jerk, we had begun.

With bumpy trail, I held on tight

with bushes veiled in frosty white.

As trees held high their snowy limbs,

in 'a cappella' we sang hymns.

With Christmas carols, young and old

had all ignored the bitter cold.

As we rode through the dips and swells

our voices chimed with harness bells.

The wagon groaned with heavy heart,

I thought it might just fall apart.

But it did not.  It never broke.

That wagon floor was solid oak.

Between those boards as we passed by

were horse hoof tracks that caught my eye

and puffs of grass above the snow

caressed the floor boards down below.

The snowy paths, those horses knew.

God's countryside held quite a view.

The sun went down.  I saw the stars.

Our praise was His.  His eve was ours.

Like life, the path was very rough -

and straw was not the softest stuff,

but through our love, much fun we had

with brother, sister, mom and dad.

The celebration of Christ's birth

was perfect as His life on earth -

from star above His manger bed

to thorns upon His grieving head.

It brought us joy and we had fun.

Too quickly though, the ride was done.

We couldn't stay.  We had to leave,

but I found Christ that Christmas Eve.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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In Jesus' Name 11-10-18

Dear Lord and Savior, hear my plea.

It's all of you and not of me.

Forgive me for the wrong I've done

and all my past I can't outrun.

Until I learn, do what it takes
to chasten me for my mistakes.

Please humble me so I can't brag,

for I am just one filthy rag.

Please help the ones I've sinned against.

I'll make amends.  I'll recompense.

You love the world so I can live.

I thank you Lord that You forgive.

Please help me not to money love,

but focus there on You above.

Please give me faith that's ever true.

Please help me love forever You.

Please give me strength to do your will

and heed Your Word 'til breath is still.

Please help the sick and heal the lame.

I pray this all in Jesus' name.

Amen.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Mighty One, The 10-20-18

I sit and stare at water there,

beyond the palm where lake is calm

and try to write the words I'm thinking of.

But often times my words lack rhymes

as fingers shake and pencils break

while making sense of Christ's most precious love.

I don't know why I often cry

at such a price of sacrifice.

Though innocent, the Man of God obeyed.

With no remorse, He stayed the course

and took the tip of wicked whip,

then carried cross because He was betrayed.

He didn't quit.  He carried it

without restraint, without complaint,

up rugged path to hill where all would be.

And without fail, He took a nail -

another one.  They still weren't done...

And then was raised for all the world to see.

The pain was such it mattered much

and time was short for His escort -

those angels waiting anxiously to aid.

For all along, ten thousand strong 

were in His care and waiting there.

But it would be His call was never made.

From cross He heard another's word -

another soul that He made whole.

It mattered not, the next cross he was from.

So it would be that grace was free

if we believe and always cleave

to Him who knows our hearts and wants to come.

So much unsaid with Jesus dead.

Though buried deep, they couldn't keep

our Savior from yet one more miracle.

So off His toes, He then arose

despite our sin to live again -

above the clouds.  This wasn't typical.

I pictured sky in my mind's eye
and watched in awe at what I saw
and still envision how it all could be.
As I look back at all the flack
that Jesus took in God's Good Book
I just can't understand His love for me.

My stare is blank at water's bank,

beyond the fog I see a bog

as I forget all that I'm thinking of.

Now as before I tremble more.
In any case, I now erase
my empty words of Christ's most precious love.

My words are wrong.  They don't belong.

My ev'ry word just seems absurd!

They don't do justice for all He has done!

Thoughts disappear.  I shed a tear -

and say a prayer that isn't fair -

from little me - to God, the Mighty One.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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If You Can Interpret 10-12-18

If there's love in you still, please read if you will

so that you can understand fully -

the wisdom of God from the Heavens to sod,

from ants to the mammoth so woolly.

Can you understand of the rock and the sand -

a foundation as in white and black?

If so, you will master the words of your pastor

and find that you're on the right track.

So don't be discouraged but be ye encouraged

if you can interpret these words.

Avoid your destruction and heed this instruction,

removing yourself from the herds.

For many will perish because they won't cherish

the grace from the Father above.

and willingly selfish, they cannot embellish

a life that is full of His love.

Deny yourself firstly before you'll be thirsty
for kinship that's second to none.

If you lend Him your ear you will certainly hear

the truth from our God's only Son.

So don't read this poem if you cannot know Him

as you will be wasting your time.

For this poem's of love of our God up above,

if you can interpret its rhyme.

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Proud To Follow 9-28-18

Some are quite embarrassed when

their pride gets in the way.

They can't defend a hero who

is still brushed off today.

So tell me, what is wrong with Him,

...a Man who healed the blind?

...a Man who healed a withered hand?

...a Man who was so kind?

I'm proud to be a follower

of He who loved so much,

of He who sacrificed for me -

whose hands I'll one day touch.

I'll hold those strong and loving hands

when I am rid of earth -

for He has given me new life

through this, my second birth.

He died so I might live again

and never more in sin.

That's right.  A new creation here.

I have been 'born again'!

So go ahead, if that's your wish -

just joke and laugh and sneer -

but I know where I'm headed now.

I'm getting out of here!

I gave my life to Jesus, all -

escaping sin's great chain.

I'm free as I could ever be.

In Him I will remain.

Though at times this world is harsh,

I sing when life is grim.

I'm thankful that He saved my soul

and proud to follow Him!

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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That Special Boy 9-22-18

This poem's for that little boy

who I met in the store;

just helping grandma groc'ry shop

as he had done before.

This poem's for that patient boy.

While we began to chat;

attentively he listened too.

I was impressed with that.

This poem's for that quiet boy -

a little hard to gauge;

polite and rev'rent standing there,

mature for his young age.

This poem's for that humble boy

who's good and never sways,

who knows what's right and knows what's wrong,

who faithfully obeys.

This poem's for that precious boy

who grandma deeply loves;

there standing by her wheelchair

who she was speaking of.

This poem's for that pauper boy

whose grandma nodded "yes" -

when offered I, a loving sum.

She smiled and said "God bless".

This poem's for that speechless boy.

I turned to walk away

before the tears flowed from my eyes.

Then I began to pray.

This poem's for that special boy

I'll never see again;

but faithfully still pray for him...

before I say "Amen".

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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It's Irrefutable! 9-16-18

I may be very quiet

and gentler than a lamb -

but I'm a rose unopened

and just a bud, I am.

So therefore, you're loved more than me

'cause I'm not beautiful.
It's so unfair, unfair to me!

It's irrefutable!

---

I may be very quiet

and gentler than a lamb.

But now you see me open.

So beautiful, I am.

It is quite fair, quite fair to me

'cause I am beautiful.

Now I am loved much more than you.
It's irrefutable!

---

I may be very quiet

and gentler than a lamb -

but now I'm old and wilted,

ugly again, I am.

It's so unfair, unfair to me
'cause I'm not beautiful.

Once more you're loved much more than me!

It's irrefutable!

---

I may be very quiet

and gentler than a lamb -

but I'm a rose that's guilty.

Repenting now, I am.

It's so unfair, unfair to God.
It's He who's beautiful!

For I'm the one who blamed my God!
It's irrefutable!

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Oh To Be A Butterfly 8-18-18

Oh to be a butterfly.

Cocoon would pave the way.

Arise, I would, from dark of death

to see the light of day.

Oh to be a butterfly -
to rise above the dead,
to spread my multi-colored wings
of orange, green, blue and red.

Oh to be a butterfly

with brilliant-colored wing,

that I would stretch and open wide -

and I could beauty bring.

Oh to be a butterfly
whose wings bring ne'er a sound.
reflecting brightly in the sun -
the prettiest around.

Oh to be a butterfly,

to float on easy breeze,

and softly drift to other fields

where flowers meet the bees.

Oh to be a butterfly

upon a little hill
and set atop a milkweed plant
where I'd be resting still.

Oh to be a butterfly,

to never worry why -

the oceans depths seem much too deep

or clouds seem much too high.

Oh to be a butterfly,
creation's grand rebirth -
inside of God's great masterpiece
and handiwork on Earth.

Oh to be a butterfly
in flight and fully free -
and then to be in peace again
at rest on Jesus' knee.

Oh to be a butterfly

emerging from cocoon,

unfolding vibrant colors bright

on Sunday afternoon.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Walkin' On Water 8-3-18

Floatin' on water, lightning's flash!

Floatin' on water, raindrops splash.
Floatin' on water, pouring rain!
Walkin' on water?  So insane.

Floatin' on water, leave my boat?
Floatin' on water.  Will it float?
Floatin' on water, don't capsize!
Walkin' on water is unwise!

Floatin' on water here hiding.
Floatin' on water deciding.
Floatin' on water hearing voice.
Walkin' on water is a choice.

Floatin' on water in the storm.

Walkin' on water's not the norm.

Floatin' on water still in fear?

Walkin' on water, volunteer?

Floatin' on water, who succumbs?
Walkin' on water, Jesus comes!
Floatin' on water, Jesus see -
walkin' on water calming sea.

Floatin' on water, no more waves.

Walkin' on water, Jesus saves!

Floatin' on water does enslave!
Walkin' on water's not your grave!

Walkin' on water?  Can't conceive?

Walkin' on water?  Just believe!

Walkin' on water, I am too!

Walkin' on water, how 'bout you?

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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A Beautiful Rose 7-13-18

My love still continues to bloom like the rose -

for roses are lovely as everyone knows.
My heart strings keep humming like strumming guitar.
She's perfect as nature and finer by far -

than rose most exquisite, than rose without thorn,

than crisp, cooling air near a lake in the morn,

than cottony clouds floating high with great ease,

than soft meadow grasses.  She is more than these.

But memories trample as conscience awakes.

It's then I'm reminded of all my mistakes.

Regrets, I have many.  They give me great pain.

They pelt me like hail and they drive me insane.

If only the future could remake the past,
where I could relive it much diff'rent than cast -

in stone where it's buried and cannot breakout,
I'd free it most quickly and change it, no doubt.

For pain's overwhelming when past can't reverse.
From pit in my stomach, it couldn't be worse.
Though Jesus can heal all the greatest of pains -
He won't let it happen if I'm tied down with chains
in guilt-ridden prison where I can't accept
forgiveness from actions when I was inept.
Grace breaks ev'ry chain so that I can't destroy
this beautiful rose of unspeakable joy.

If God could change hist'ry, if God made it so,

I'd treat her much diff'rent and clearly would know

that God's grace is priceless and made for such love

for all still in waiting and not there above.

Because she's not with me, there isn't a cure,

so pain grows beyond all that I can endure.

I'm sorry I hurt you and this I must share -

while Heaven awaits you, you're in ev'ry prayer.

So love still continues to bloom like the rose -

for roses are lovely as everyone knows.
My heart strings keep humming like strumming guitar.
She's perfect as nature and finer by far -

than rose most exquisite, than rose without thorn,

than crisp, cooling air near a lake in the morn,

than cottony clouds floating high with great ease,

than soft meadow grasses.  She is more than these.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Cheap & Paltry Skies 7-7-18

While I was thinking I was good,

in church while singing hymn -

my Lord was getting tortured so,

as they were whipping Him.

While boss was just not being fair

and I held righteous wrath -

my precious Lord lugged heavy cross

barefoot on stony path.

While I was wishing for a house

and dreaming how it'd be -

my Lord was tied and nailed tight

to hard and rugged tree.

While I stared at the deep blue sea

then wanted boat instead -

my Lord endured more agony

by thorns forced on His head.

While I had found a car for sale,

a nice and perfect ride -

my Lord cried out in gruesome pain

long hours before He died.

While in anticipated dreams,

a playoff game begins.

My Lord, though, wasn't in the game,

but took away my sins.

While I was taking selfies here

and holding high, my phone -

the people thought they buried Him

behind one heavy stone.

I'm now regretting sinful ways,

collapsing in my cries.

My Lord has paid and rose above

my cheap and paltry skies.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Tell Me Why (2) 7-1-18

What charms my heart to butterflies?

What charms my heart to fly?

What charms my heart to loudly sing?

And can you tell me why?

What lures me to the water's edge?

What lures me to the lie?

What lures me to the ocean's depth?

And can you tell me why?

What makes a son do crazy things?

What makes a mom to die?

What makes a father distant so?

And can you tell me why?

What draws me to the pastures green?

What draws me to the sky?

What draws me to His loving arms?

And can you tell me why?

What drives my soul to worship Him?

What drives my eyes to cry?

What drives my love to do His will?

Please, can you tell me why?

What pulls my thoughts to greater thoughts?

What pulls emotions nigh?

What pulls my soul so Heavenward?

Now can you tell me why?

©2018 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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If I Were Jesus 6-23-18

Here's something we might think about

and something to discuss -

if born, we were, in Zero Year

and grew up as Jesus...

---

If I were Jesus would I heal

the blind so they could see?

Or would I joke when stumbled they

and would I laughing be?

If I were Jesus would I heal

a crippled, withered hand?

Or would I buy some sandals new

and brand new clothes demand?

If I were Jesus would I feed

five thousand; fish and bread?

Or would I scold them, call them fools

and stuff myself instead?

If I were Jesus would I pray

for each and every one?

Or would I brag and boast a lot

of all that I had done?

If I were Jesus would I die

on cross set up for me?

Or would I show them who I was

and walk away painfree?

If I were Jesus would I rise

to Heaven up above?

Or would I store up treasures here

because I money love?

If I were Jesus would I care

for people still today?

Or would I care for only me?

What would I do and say?

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Lion & God's Nature 6-9-18

The Lion and God's nature seemed to be at odds one day.

Was it all depressing?  First, the lion had his say...
---

"I hate the freezing morning!

I just shiver by the river!

I am so depressed."

The river's flow was somewhat slow.

Back its whisper, it was chipper,

"I am ever blessed."

The Lion roared, "My stomach needs

a meal with some appeal!

I am so depressed."

One little hare seemed not to care.

Through the meadow was the echo,

"I am ever blessed."

The Lion roared, "The sun is up and it's so hot!

I'm sweating and I'm thirsting!

I am so depressed."

A little chick with outstretched wing was heard to always sing,

"It's so adoring, sunshine's warming.

I am ever blessed."

The Lion roared, "This rocky ledge has windy edge!

Insufferable, I'm uncomfortable!

I am so depressed."

Sung through the leaves with autumn's breeze,

 though not with word, the Willow's heard,

"I am ever blessed..."

Then finally the Lion roared,

"Again I frown.  The sun is down!

Though rain is done, it wasn't fun!

I am so depressed."

But painted twilight sky was bright

in rainbow's hallowed spectrum's glow.

"I am ever blessed."

---

The Lion and God's nature seemed to be at odds that day.

Was it all a blessing?  Lastly, nature had its say.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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At Weakest Point 5-12-18

My precious little children

grew up so very fast.

Oh, why does time keep fighting me

and stealing all my past?

My little girl was precious,

a vibrant little flower.

So why has time come to a stop -

in this, my darkest hour?

My photos and mementos

have faded very fast.

Oh, why does time keep fighting me

and stealing all my past?

My keepsakes, lost forever,

have turned my stomach sour.

So why has time come to a stop -

in this, my darkest hour?

I worked hard for my family.

I built my business fast.

Oh, why does time keep fighting me

and stealing all my past?

My business, lost forever

and gone, my tallest tower.

So why has time come to a stop -

in this, my darkest hour?

All is gone and all is lost.

My life is fading fast.

Oh, why does time keep fighting me

and stealing all my past?

In fetal pose, you watch me now.

I fear, I shake, I cower.

So why has time come to a stop -

in this my darkest hour?

I find myself afloat on tears
that flow so very fast -
ignoring God who could have been
in all my sorry past.

At weakest point, He lifts me now

with His creative power!

And now I know why time has stopped -

in this, God's finest hour.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Jesus Blessed 4-20-18

An ear of corn was bragging so

with kernels bright and gold.

"Just look at me!  Just look at me!"

he shouted loud and bold.

Well, this provoked the big, tall stalks

that stood there proud and tall.

"Without us you'd be rotting in

the field dirt, one and all.

The dirt felt somewhat slighted then

and said the bragging hurt.

You'd both be short and sickly if

not nourished by us dirt.

The water spoke up then to say

"There's something you should know.

Without the moisture from the rain

not one of you could grow."

The sun kept right on shining as

he heard the others boast.

He warmed the ground and ears of corn.

He knew what helped the most.

Humility was lacking, but

the truth the sun could see -

that all must work together long

before the corn could be.

The sun knew that not one of them

was better than the rest.

And each of them in their own way

was really 'Jesus blessed'.

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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It's So Unfair 4-8-18

My mom was simply wonderful.

She had a magic touch.

And mother loved my father too.

She loved him very much.

I never heard mom say a word

when dad would spend the funds -

though mom had many stressful days

to feed her hungry sons.

Recalling often all the ways

that she conceived a meal -

concoctions never mixed before,

ingredients unreal.

One bite would be like chewing foam,

the next so leather tough -

while I and brothers sitting there

would have to eat the stuff.

But weight upon the shoulders from

abuse is very great.

I think I have much empathy

but how can I relate?

I heard the whimpering at times.

I sometimes saw the tears.

It's so unfair to have such love

and then to persevere.

So many things are left unsaid.

What more must I explain?

Have I hurt someone like my mom?

Have I caused someone pain?

Who loves me more than mom loved dad?

What else is there to know?

How many tears does Christ still shed

because He loves me so?

©2018 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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