Oh, Tiny Bud 5-22-13

Oh, tiny bud here on this branch
and many more that have no chance
in this dark world that no one sees -
the lost and silent "least of these".

They're covered up by others full,
with blooming blossoms, beautiful -
that dance so freely in the wind -
but oh, they do not know they've sinned.

The 'winners' flaunt their daily lives
when pride's indulging self arrives -
ignoring young and helpless, those
with hungry gut and dirty clothes.

While all those 'winners' seem to choose
different blossoms, different hues -
the traffic, loud, goes flying by.
...Seems no one cares which makes me cry.

But time will tell on judgement day
when all their wealth will have no say.
Still, God allows both rain and mud
and nourishes this tiny bud.

Oh, tiny bud here on this branch
and many more that have no chance
in this dark world that no one sees -
the lost and silent "least of these".

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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In Melodies 5-13-13

As seagulls soar above the seas -

as busy as the honey bees -

and free of want, of any need,

light fingers float on ivory keys.

My arms reach out and grope so much

to sounds my soul seems deemed to clutch.

The music makes my soul sing out.

How eloquent- how soft the touch.

The melody I hear again.

My cheeks are soaked down to my chin -

I listen more- a hundred times!

How can I store them all within?

If I could mute out all the 'norm'

with notes so delicately warm -

so we, God's face, in them could see -

oh how, if I could so perform...

And yet the keys were touched so crisp,

that even sounds from roses lisp

had scattered petals through the sky,

that danced both to and fro in wisp.

Descending tenderly they near

and float emotions on my ear -

in melodies with eloquence -

that softly fade- then disappear...

The missing notes, God does forgive.
Instead of taking, I should give -

in love, as Jesus gave to me.
My life, like music, I must live.

(inspired by the musical talent of Mark Greer)

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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World Without 5-12-13

If world had no sunshine

and world had no rain,

if world had no flowers

and world saw no gain -

then many, my tears

if I pondered awhile,

to think of God's world

without mama's warm smile.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Over The Crest 5-5-13

Whew!  I finally made it to the shore.  My boat- a mangled mess.

I prayed a "Thank You!" to my God as God can always bless.

I dropped on shore exhausted so that I could catch my breath.

and thankful, was, that I escaped a close and certain death!

The storm clouds hovered up above.  They seemed to follow me -

yet now I'll be among my own and very happy be.

I rested some and then stood up on firm and solid ground.

There was a steep and rugged hill but first, I looked around.

I fought that ocean mightily- then shook my angry fist.

I scoffed at those huge laughing waves- as I could not resist.

No longer, rations, I would need now not a bit depraved.

On solid ground, I threw them out- because my life was saved!

I yelled, "You'll never beat me!  Not even at high tide!

Take this... and this... and this!" I said and threw my gear aside.

Then quietly a wave had came and carried it all out -

but I was safely on the shore.  With that, there was no doubt.

So then I started climbing up the steep and rugged hill.

Though it was tough, I challenged it with persevering will.

I did not want to hear again- those angry waves today.

Each step I took put space between and furthered me away.

And finally, I neared the top.  I sat to rest a bit.

I surveyed my accomplishments.  I won, I must admit.

I think that God looks down on me and sees my work and smiles.

I think that's why He knows that I can handle all my trials.

And then I pulled myself on up a little to the west -

but oh, my eyes grew bigger as I peered over the crest.

The moral of this story is:  Don't be too proud because -

it humbled me to see this sight.  I, on an island, was.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

Maybe the 'Garden of Eden' wasn't so bad after all...

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Proverbs 16:18 (KJV)

18 Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.

It Is True 4-30-13

His clock set on the mantle.

The chime had faded nigh.
The sound had died without a tear.

I did not wonder why...

Not once had I heard father say,
"My daughter, I love you."

I guess I'd always wondered.
Did he?  Was it true?

---

I saw a paper on his desk.  A quill, upon it, laid.

The paper held some words in ink that soon came to my aid.

I sat upon his wooden chair that saw some better years.

And when I read the words he wrote, I burst out into tears.

He seemed to thrive at this old desk.  He seemed to like it so.

He seemed to want to help the sick - and others feeling low.

There comes a time when words must end and pen must be set down.

There comes a time when body dies - each verb, each subject, noun.

His hand had dropped that feathered pen.  His inkwell tipped and dried.

It seems he wrote his final thoughts on this before he died.

His strength had left his body.  Life's clock had taken toll.

When all his words had been used up, the last few left his soul...

BUT JOY survives the darkest night when Jesus lights the dawn!

And though the greatest poet fades, his words are never gone.

They're written for the ages.  They're never obsolete.

They're just as true as they were then - and lovingly complete.

There comes a time when someone else must take the feathered quill -

the quill that wrote so many words - and these that I hold still.

His hand had shaken violently where smears of ink had dried -

and this now pulls tears down my cheeks the day after he died.

I stared again at his last words, though splattered so with ink -

and read each word quite carefully - then paused a bit to think.

Expressed, he did, his final thoughts on paper I now cleave -

because he spilled his life on it.  And so I do believe.

---

His clock set on the mantle.

The chime had faded nigh.

My joyful tears were flowing now.

His words the reason why:

"I never heard my daughter say,
'Father, I love you.'

But you, my dear, I've always loved.
Believe it.  It is true."

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

Never fail to say, "I love you." and mean it.

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My New Friend 4-25-13

I passed the lady at her desk (the pastor's file clerk).

He peered above his glasses busy with some paperwork.

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

I feebly asked him for his help.  I mentioned my new friend.

"I'm busy with my sermon now.  What service can he lend?"

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

"Does he tithe?" then asked the Pastor from behind his tidy desk -

sitting on his leather chair and looking somewhat statuesque.

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

"Does he tithe?" he asked again with both arms tight across his chest -

folded firm and rigid on his perfect three-piece suited vest.

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

"Does he tithe?" he asked again with bold expression on his face -

leaning forward in his chair next to some flowers in a vase.

(Intimidated, speechless- I did not know what to say).

"Does he tithe?" he asked one last time as he stood up straight and tall.

"It's a fact he's not a Christian if he doesn't.  That is all."

(I just stood there speechless and did not know what to say).

---

...but then I asked - if it would be okay - to show my new friend in.

The Pastor said, "Why don't you?" (and he said it with a grin).

So then I walked back to the door and briefly exited -

and then returned with my new friend.  I paused and humbly said,

I'm sorry that I couldn't find the words that would explain -

that my new friend here isn't well and in a bit of pain.

It seems he has no money and it's hard to get around.

It seems his ears have trouble hearing low and quiet sounds.

It seems that he is needing just a bit of your advice -

because he lost his legs on an explosive land device.

It seems he needs this wheelchair and help with other things.

It seems he has no purpose now.  His soul no longer sings...

He has no car, he has no home nor place to lie his head.

It's been a long time coming so his need is to be fed.

And so it was, the Pastor dropped back down in his soft chair.

He seemed to be in shock awhile with my friend sitting there.

Before he spoke, the seconds seemed to drag on endlessly -

but finally he had found his words and spoke them reverently.

"The reason that we all must tithe and never miss a week -

is so that we can help the poor, the hurting and the weak.

The tithes and offerings we receive?  Folks haven't any clue-

but funds should flow in freely for a person such as you.

---

And then behind his glasses- I had thought I saw it clear -

yes, on his tidy desk had dropped a long-awaited tear.

(I just stood there speechless and did not know what to say).

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

Sometimes our intentions are tidy, but our priorities are a mess. ~louis gander

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Luke 20: 45-47 (NASB)

45 And while all the people were listening, He said to the disciples,

46 “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes,

and love respectful greetings in the market places,

and chief seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets,

47 who devour widows’ houses, and for appearance’s sake offer long prayers.

These will receive greater condemnation.”

Luke 21: 1-4

1 And He looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the treasury.

2 And He saw a poor widow putting in two small copper coins.

3 And He said, “Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all of them;

4 for they all out of their surplus put into the offering;

but she out of her poverty put in all that she had to live on.”

Termites! 4-20-13

"Hey, we will tax small businesses and little grandmas too -
and we will tax your neighbor and we'll give it all to you."
said he, the tiny termite in intimidating clothes -
but I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"And then we'll tax the smokers and the drinkers and the fat -
so would you have some int'rest in a program such as that?"
said he, the brazen termite with the velvet tongue that flows -
but I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"And here's another program that will pay when you get old -
so let us take your money now." ('A pittance', I was told).
He brought some little friends along who lined up straight in rows -
but I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little program that will help when grandma's sick-
so let us take some money now." ...and wow, they took it quick.
And so the termites marched along but said, "We won't impose."
Oh, I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a 'rainy day' fund that's for you when unemployed-
so let us take some money now. This tax, you can't avoid.
And so, more termites gathered- and, in fact, they came in droves -
Oh, I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little highway that will hurry you to work-
so let us take some money. Please don't be a stingy jerk."
And so, the termites led me by my twisted, naive nose.
Oh, I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little food stamp that will feed the little folk-
so let us take some money now. They're children. It's no joke."
And as the termites ate away, I didn't once oppose -
for I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little missile that protects you during war-
so let us take some money now. You'll learn what it is for."
And so the termites taxed and spent- and that's how 'hot air' blows -
for I was none the wiser and- that's how this story goes.

"It's just to bail banks, et.al., who were too big to fail-
so let us take your money now or you will go to jail."
And so the termites ate away. No arguments arose.
for I was none the wiser and - that's how this story goes.

"It's just the way it is that there's no program for your loan.".
They told me, "Just go run along"- that I was on my own.
And so the termites ate and ate at anything they chose.
I wish I'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

"It's just a little program for your care when you are sick-
so let us take some money now and we'll, your doctors, pick."
And so the termites ate their fill. Now I'm a slave to those -
I wish I'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

"It's just to pay for things you get- these programs we design -
so give us all your money now or we will levy fines.
And so the termites ate away and greater damage shows.
I wish I'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

"It's just to pay entitlements and int'rest on the debt-
and you must pay the IRS- and yes, this is a threat."
Then as they blamed us for this debt, they stepped right on our toes -
I wish we'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

They've mortgaged off our Nation's Parks and too, Miss Liberty.
They've stripped her of her freedoms and her every dignity.
And then the fat 'ol termites left, but where? Nobody knows.
I wish I'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

Those termite politicians? They took us for a ride -
with budgets in the trillions eating through our countryside.
And as they blame us for this debt, the 'money river' flows -
I wish we'd been the wiser but- that's how this story goes.

Now who defends each 'unborn child' who has to pay this debt -
or lobbies for the 'least of these' before they 18 get?
They punch me squarely in the face- then curse my bloody nose.
I know I am the wiser now. That's how this story goes.

This battle must be prudent as the termites eat us poor.
It isn't what we asked for but it's now a civil war.
We cannot run away from them and so our passion grows -
because we're all the wiser now.  That's how this story goes.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The one thing much more despicable than 'not voting' -

is voting in selfish ignorance as a 'lover of money'

from ANY party - for one's own pocketbook -
without a love for rights & responsibilities,

liberties & freedoms, duty & honor,
or Country...  ~louis gander

On Timbered Tree 4-17-13

So proud the tree that grew freely

with 'green-backed' leaves to show -

but selfish sins brought greedy winds

that blew them 'to and fro'.

It had begun. The truth was spun.

Some laws were 'redefined'.

They had an itch to bail the rich

but leave us poor behind.

And then, so fast, the leaves they cast

throughout the stormy sky -

where billions tossed were sadly lost -

from bureaucratic lie.

T'was blunder's greed! Bankrupt indeed -

but fail? They were too big!

So bailed out, they gained more clout

that broke each little twig.

Free enterprise then undersized -

had undermined the oak.

The witnesses? Small businesses -

that saw their branches broke.

From smallest twig to branches big,

what future can be bright -

when in a funk we find the trunk

with but two limbs in sight?

Oh, how can we, grow honestly

when love for money gains -

outstripping small when guilty call -

and love for country wanes?

Now every kind of termite find

on timbered tree of thieves.

And debt, the moss, our country's cost -

when missing, are the leaves.

©2013 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Blooming From Roots 4-10-13

This is a TRUE STORY POEM of horror, action and suspense.



It starts with a little 6 year old girl named "Jellee" (pronounced "jelly")
from Liberia, Africa (on the western coast) -
and ends when she is about 18 and having changed her name to Veronica.
I think you'll find out why...

I personally interviewed Veronica and helped begin writing her biography
which she is planning to entitle "Blooming From Roots".
I name this poem the same.

Obviously I am not able to write her whole life's experiences in poetry form
and her book will be more detailed -
yet I kept this poem fully factual
(and should be appropriate for the younger readers as well).
I have written it in 'first person' in present tense with permission.

I wish to thank Veronica (Jellee) Gabor for giving me permission
to publish this poem for my readers.
I hope you enjoy "Blooming From Roots".

---

Blooming From Roots

The night is very peaceful.  Stars twinkle in the sky.

While God creates the beauty, man destroys - but why?

A-boom! Boom! Boom!   A-bang, bang, bang!  A-pop, pop, pop!  Rat-a-tat-tat...

Our village undefended!  The horror starts like that.

What is going on?  I'm only six years old.  Gunshots echo through the air!

Yelling, screaming - orders barked.  Bullets everywhere!

(Jellee, in blue, at her home with some of her family - age 6)

As fireworks, but louder - those AK-forty-sevens -

A-bang, bang, bang!  A-pop, pop, pop!  The booming shakes the heavens!

The rebels swarm like bumble bees!  The terror snatches breath.

They frighten all the villagers.  They sting us with their death!

They scare me so.  I try to run.  One catches me off-guard.

He slaps me and I start to bleed.  He hits and kicks me hard.

They seize my father, torture him.  They frighten me a lot!

They grab his arms, behead him there - and kill him on the spot.

The rebels move so swiftly!  I'm just a little child!

My mom is screaming.  I am too.  These murderers are wild!

Two more hold my mother down - they kill as if a game!

"Shut up!" the rebel yells at me, "...or you will get the same!"

Oh, how I squirm and wiggle!  He's holding me so tight.

He hurts my arms.  I cry and scream!  I am too young to fight.

He hits me hard with his big gun.  It slams me to the ground.

He swears that I will get the same if I make one more sound.

Shocked, I am.  I'm terrified.  My friends still unaware -

of what is really happening.  Is this a bad nightmare?

I scramble up and start to run - past one hut, then another.

Oh, will he kill me as he did my father and my mother?

I run as fast as I can run.  I'm frightened as can be.

A lady grabs and picks me up - her arms protecting me.

I'm wailing as she runs to hide among 'da bush' and trees.

I hear the chaos all around now bent low on my knees.

I soon think it is safe enough for me to run away -

but I will be forever scarred.  I won't forget this day.

For years I live with others, my makeshift families -

but oh, the torture I go through is more than man believes.

(Jellee at age 10)

Such sin conceives atrocious things, but that does not compare

to all the things they make me do.  It's way too much to bear...

I lost my friends and family.  It simply makes no sense!

I cannot find a peaceful place.  I lose my innocence.

I bounce between the villages to find a life of peace -

but trial after failed trial, the sadness doesn't cease.

Then once again, it happens!  And this I can't endure!

The rebels come in shooting!  No village is secure!

I pray that they will go away.  My heart is beating hard.

I hide again inside 'da bush' - emotionally scarred.

I try to hide the best I can with rebels coming near -

I hear the bushes moving and an angry voice I hear:

"We know you're hiding!  Come on out, or we shoot again!"

 And with those words they fire some more - a terrorizing sin.

A bullet hits my ankle.  I quickly take my top -.

and tie it 'round my ankle - for it is all I've got.

And then I try to flee again.  There's no way I can stay.

My left hand holds my ankle as I try to run away.

I hear something familiar.  I look up to the skies.

A helicopter nears the road!  A sight for weary eyes!

The emblem proves it's friendly.  The bright 'red, white and blue'.

I run as fast as I can go.  That is what I must do.

I hold my bleeding ankle and I also try to run.

My former top is soaked with blood.  My last dash has begun.

I cannot stay and that's for sure - to left and right, I glance.

I look out through the clearing.  This is my only chance!

I pass the dying bodies of - mothers, girls and boys.

But I must leave this awful place where sinful man destroys.

Through bullets, can I make it?  I really do not know.

I start across the clearing.  I stumble as I go.

It seems to take forever.  I'm determined so, to put -

this nightmare far behind me.  I hurt from head to foot.

The chopper blades are noisy.  The dust blows in my face.

Some bullets zing right past my head.  I quicken up my pace!

Just when I'm feeling hopeful, a bullet rips my side.

I fall with all the others and I think I'll miss my ride.

I have no strength to run again.  I'm bleeding real bad.

I put my right hand on my side.  That chance was all I had.

I'm feeling weak and failing fast.  While dying here, I cry.

I vainly wave for someone's help - so futilely I try...

And then the lights go out.  It's black.  I've failed with the others -

those who came so very close - fathers, mothers, brothers...

When terror roots, a rebel shoots and death is what he gives -

yet blooming now from ugly roots, a lovely flower lives!

And two weeks later, I wake up, with coma finally over.

And though I ache from head to toe, I 'see' green fields of clover.

I 'see' a land so beautiful - a land that most can't see -

a land of milk and honey, of opportunity.

(one of Jellee's gunshot wounds - this one from an AK-47)

Now five years later, it came true.  I'm thankful still today.

Though I don't know who rescued me, I'm in the USA!

It seems as though I'm born again - and not just 'physically'.

I 'see' this land more beautifully - and it comes 'spiritually'.

An everlasting land in Heav'n - if Jesus lives within.

He picks us up right where we fall - if we've been born again.

The day is very peaceful.  Although the terror looms,

As God creates the beauty, His precious child blooms.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED (11/19/12)

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

(I could not bring myself to write about all of the many atrocities)

-------

John 3:16 King James Version (KJV)

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 14:3 (KJV)

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

Just His Guest 4-5-13

I sit a'spell and ponder 'bout,

creation at its best -

and savor life each minute knowing

I am just His guest...

And frolicking, those two fawns did, near green, dense forest brush -

just playing in ecstatic glee.  I laid low, quiet, hushed...

A bubbling brook meandered past one little playful twin -

and slipped down over smooth washed stones in sheets most paper thin.

So quietly I watched them play, as mother doe stood still.

She guided them and peered around as only mothers will.

And grandly standing on the knoll, a rigid eight point buck.

He stood as if a statue there, as if his feet were stuck.

A squirrel scampered up a tree.  The twins both took a drink.

The mother doe stepped closer and- this whole view made me think.

I pondered God's creation.  Such beauty man can see -

of peace and true tranquility...  but then a "BOOM!" shook me.

CRACK!!  That bang had echoed- still echoes in my head.

The eight point buck, with startled jerk, had lurched and then fell dead.

How quickly things can happen- and in our lives as well -

when we could end up just like that- in Heaven or in Hell.

Though He had loved and only healed and gave us full increase,
some couldn't 'stomach' long ago, this Man of grace and peace.

We kill to have our stomach filled, indifferent for the loss.

This fateful time man killed with gun- but former time, a cross.

Those creatures scattered with that shot and I saw not a trace.

The eight point buck gave all he had- but Jesus, life and grace.

I sit a 'spell and ponder 'bout

creation at its best -

and savor life each minute knowing

I am just His guest...

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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A Leaf 4-1-13

I was a leaf with no relief

from stiff and blowing winds -

and twisted taut was cruelly fought

with all their greedy sins.

I set my sights on city lights

but life was in their hands.

I held on tight with all my might -

but they had killed my plans.

Still, all went good- as well, it should

until I met my match -

when roared and churned the gusts had turned.

I twisted and detached.

But oh, alas!  It came to pass

that it was not of me!

With legal tools, they changed the rules -

then yanked me from that tree.

Unlike a play, the truth did say,

I soared right through the air.

I did not know where I would go,

but, oh indeed, did care.

Now judged from those with pointed nose

who see me from afar -

they claim I failed because I'd sailed

with breezy winds that are.

Let those who judge and do not budge

be sentenced not this way -

but may the suns burn greedy ones

forever and a day...

They do not care I'm flying where

no leaf has gone before

and so I go where ill winds blow

but not forevermore.

I'll settle down on clover ground

on soft caressing lawn -

that's so serene by pastures green

where few have ever gone.

It's Heaven's sod.  For only God

knows everywhere I've blown.

And He employs the greatest joys

this world has ever known.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Worse Than That 3-27-13

While I was strolling near a pond
one bright and breezy day,
a splendid scene had caught my eye
in such a special way.

Decided I, to lie a spell,
to take in nature's views.
So I had lain on greener grass
and kicked off both my shoes.

I saw the mirror images which
'bounced' beneath the sky,
on tips of little ripples that had
seemed to tip-toe by.

So beautiful, the lights reflected
off the little pond,
off the dancing water that
had seemed to just respond.

But life is not as it appears.
My thoughts took all this in,
When I had found that I had laid
right in this world's sin.

Once tempted by the greener grass,
well used by dog and cat,
I'm humbled now with just one whiff-
and sin is worse than that.

Don't laugh at me. It's just the way
this evil world turns.
So now I set my eyes on God.
My soul no longer yearns.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Show The Lord 3-11-13

Now everyone was nervous here.  It didn't make much sense. 

The Judge had entered quietly.  The room was very tense. 

"Let's only hear the gospel truth and accusations quench!

This court is now in session." said 'His Honor' from the bench. 

The 'Whip' was not at all deterred and spoke up suddenly, 

"Alive, He was, when I was done - untied and then set free! 

But I had noticed something else when He had left my place. 

I saw Him with the rugged 'Cross'.  Now there's your real case!" 

The 'Cross' responded bluntly and without an ounce of tact, 

"It wasn't me, Your Honor sir, and that is just a fact! 

I didn't do a single thing and really, I did care. 

I merely was the backdrop.  It's the 'Nails' that held Him there!" 

The 'Nails', three, were hence accused but chimed in unison, 

"It wasn't us who had Him killed (God's one and only Son). 

When all the three of us looked up, the truth had come to light - 

that wicked 'Crown' had pierced His scalp and made a gruesome sight!" 

It hushed, the crowd, who set their eyes on such a cruel 'Crown' - 

but it had sought the mercy of the Judge with sorry frown. 

And then it weaved so carefully a short and subtle lie, 

"It wasn't I who killed Him sir, the 'Whip' caused Him to die!" 

And so it was that blame was passed around, around again - 

so tell me, "What had killed Him then - just plain and simple sin?" 

So then that Judge, with piercing eye, had raised his brow at me, 

and said, "You are the guilty one!  I sentence you to be..." 

But then that very instant, a gentle voice was heard. 

The sound had calmed the courthouse down - and every heart was stirred. 

"Unbind those who've repented and were faithful through and through - 

for I have paid the highest price and saved their souls too." 

The Judge slammed down His gavel hard and said, "I will it so!" 

And that is where this story ends.  Are you prepared to go? 

The heart you have you made yourself.  You're humble or you're proud - 

so if acceptance you must have, you're lost among the crowd. 

Don't be the Whip, Cross, Nails or Crown who passed their guilt along - 

who tried to blame somebody else and claimed they did no wrong. 

How long has pride now stole your soul?  Days, weeks, or months, or years? 

Don't pass your guilt to someone else, but show the Lord some tears... 

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Solid Rock 3-4-13

Some people have their head in a cloud

and some people climb on top.

Some people jump from cloud to cloud

and never seem to stop.

Some people dream a million dreams

and some people live to work.

Some people seek fun far and wide

where wages of sin lurk.

They're trapped in a fog of deceptive white

that floats on a hopeless air -

then sooner or later find out that

there's no foundation there.

For God is the only solid rock

where feet can be planted firm -

not in the clouds of 'here and now'

but eternity, long-term.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Dearest Friends 2-22-13

The stars come out to welcome me.  The sun had set so fast.

I need to live a simple life, forgetting evil's past.

Here, I'm at peace with all my friends - at this, my Alma mater.

A seagull swoops so ever low.  Its wingtip kisses water.

True friends have such a special way of understanding word -

though swaying branches speak to me in language never heard.

But I can understand them all, for I've been here before.

So lonely are the busy ones who only hear the shore.

The moon looks down with saddened frown.  I sense it's message there,

"We love it when you visit us.  We really, truly care."

But even so, I soon must go.  Much stronger is the breeze.

It's whisper lingers, "Do not go.  Stay longer, if you please."

Each time I leave I don't forget the many loving ways

they're etched into my mem'ry like the sunset's brilliant rays -

that showered down around me as a rainbow's vivid views

and lit up like a halo that enhanced all nature's hues.

Between my obligations, torn - decisions I regret -

then say, the leaves there in the trees, "Please do not leave us yet."

And say, the little waves on shore (as they splash near my feet),

"To have you here, to talk to us, is such a real treat."

So I respond in loving kind, "God made you so divine!

You'll always be my sincere friends.  The pleasure is all mine!

"I so enjoy our favorite talks and I, great wonders, see.

So rich, our time together is.  I love your company."

Reflecting off the water's waves, the lights from distant shore -

still seem to make me want to stay and talk a little more.

Yet like the sun, I now must run.  The sky is turning black.

They may not know I love them so, but I'll be coming back.

Just one more time, I soak it in.  God always makes it right.

"I'll miss you all, my dearest friends- and bid you all Good night!"

I turn to take a final glance before I walk away.

I hesitate, a tear slips down.  There'll be another day.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Secret Admirer 2-18-13

(from a woman's perspective...)

Damp were the petals, kissed by the dew,

on bright, vibrant rose held up for my view -

from soft velvet fingers and unweathered skin

from one faithful heart full of true love within.

The rose was exquisite, so perfect to see -

with petals now open so beau-ti-ful-ly.

It seemed to rest easy on leaves of bright green -

(if now, you could only imagine the scene).

Behind that great gift was another one too -

who whispered poetically, "Oh, how I love you!"

It floated from voice so familiar to me

that stopped my whole world - instantly, briefly.

He caught me off-guard and I must concede

that inside his heart was a great love indeed.

For behind his raised fist, so patient and mild -

I saw the cute face of my very own child.

Reached, I there down - and speaking in prose,

I said, "Thank you child." accepting the rose.

And then to the side, I gave curtain a push -

and sure enough missing, my rose from rose bush.

But forced I a smile and gave him a kiss -

for this is one day that I'll soon reminisce.

His innocent countenance had drawn me to pray,

"Thank you, dear Lord, for my child today."

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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LOVE 2-14-13

It simply is impossible and simply is absurd -

to think that love can be defined in ordinary word.

"For God so loved the world..." and too, He had amid -

the evil forces on the earth who tortured as they did.

To love someone who helped you is a simple thing to do -

but try to love the people who have great disdain for you.

Then let them whip you- up until the pain is so intense -

it makes one wonder, if in fact, you have no common sense.

And let them make you drag a big old heavy wooden cross -

until you're so exhausted [that the path] you fall across.

And let them nail you to the beams in most horrendous way -

then mock you as you hear each word the soldiers have to say.

And let them place a homemade crown of nothing but pure scorn

that seize your brow, while poking in, with long and piercing thorn.

And let them hang you there alone in pain and agony

for all the people gathered 'round- for all of them to see.

And let them have their evil way until the bitter end -

until you finally pass away for all who ever sinned.

It simply is impossible and simply is absurd -

to think that love can be defined in ordinary word.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Why Angels Sing 2-8-13

The muscles tighten in my face

and tears come to my eyes -

each time I think of how you hurt

or hear your helpless cries.

You know if I could help you out,

I'd stop your pain today.

I'd use my little magic wand

to whisk them all away.

But if my magic wand was broke,

I'd buy them all with cash -

and then I'd torch each single one

and turn them into ash.

But if I couldn't burn them up

I'd open up your heart -

I'd take your sorrows- all of them -

and tear them all apart.

But if I couldn't tear them up

then I'd go to great length -

to throw your burdens off a cliff,

with every ounce of strength.

But if I wasn't strong enough

I'd haul them, height and breadth -

then watch them all splash overboard

into the ocean's depth.

But if your burdens didn't sink,

I'd work for many years -

right along beside you where

I'd kiss away your tears.

But if I couldn't dry your tears

I'd wish beyond degree -

that all your hurts would melt away

until you're bright with glee.

More tears go streaking down my cheeks.

I see you in great pain -

and now I've proven I can't help.

My work is all in vain.

Oh, how it saddens me to know

that I can't do a thing.

Yet God can heal your broken heart -

and that's why angels sing...

So smile awhile and lift your voice -

a voice so filled with love!

For those who hate will wallow here -

as you ascend above!

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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A Wondrous Story 2-2-13

I'd love to be a poet and a real one, you know -

so I could write man's world off allowing God's to glow.

I'd write a wondrous story, that we could all take part

and live in true reality - each one with perfect heart.

I'd think outside my circle, with paper, ink and pen -

and think outside my flimsy box to live in peace again -

in gardens filled with blossoms - all colors full and bold -

that I could sweep my arms across and many flowers hold.

I'd jump inside my story with the animals and birds,

that live in His fine nature and are camouflaged with words -

that whisper as the breezes blow in true harmonic cord,

that bring us lives so unsurpassed when living with our Lord.

I'd peer up to the mountains, at the several waterfalls,

that rain grace down from Heaven where every angel calls -

to show to us a perfect world where He can overwhelm -

where man rejects but God perfects His great creation's realm.

I'd never hide inside my world, but fully would expect -

that men would treat each other with a solemn, deep respect -

that women dress with modesty and also could endow -

that girls learn to curtsy slow and boys would learn to bow.

I'd stroll inside my poem free from envy, sin and hate -

and walk beside still waters where 'the way' is always straight.

And I shall keep on writing true for many, many years -

until I see no longer through my sad and yearning tears.

I'd love to be a poet and a real one, you know -

so I could write man's world off allowing God's to glow.

I'd write a wondrous story, that we could all take part

and live in true reality - each one with perfect heart.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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I Wander Yonder 1-31-13

I wander yonder over hills where those before me trod -

though aimlessly through wants and needs, yet find it somewhat odd.

I wander yonder guessing so and pay a heavy price -

by following some friends I have and words of ill-advice.

I wander yonder through my life and laugh along the way -

deceiving self, believing I am happy every day.

I wander yonder up until the day I get so old -

a speck of truth will be revealed that I had not been told.

I wander yonder 'til the time that I begin to ponder -

about God's good and loving Son, so full of grace and wonder.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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