I call this poem The Christian faith as I Paint it The brush is wide that paints the way We Christians live our faith each day The pictures vary place to place And portraits show not just one face Perhaps what some believe is true May not be true at all for you And those […]
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Wrote this poem, Folk music is my favorite choice before Tony Bennet died. Folk music is my favorite choice It’s where I learned to use my voice Playing round the Scout Campfire Singing in the High School choir Yes we watched top forty shows Ed Sullivan, Perry Como, with Dino Frank, Sammy, And Nat King
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The Cat Saga is the name of the epic poem. Hope you never have such a problem! There was a noise within our wall From right behind the shower stall Twas not a mouse nor even rat My Fod did we just hear a cat Oh what to do I do not know For Anti-Pest
This poem is about Sequoia Beauty we saw on a visit to the California Forest. The grandeur of mountains Majestic old trees In photos we snatch them As quick as you please And yet not a picture Nor words on a page Can capture the beauty Or essence or age Imagine the thousands In centuries
Creative Writing is a thrill The story flows my mind to fill With thoughts that come from inside out Giving to me without a doubt A plot and characters so real Like watching some old reel to reel I must take notes or lose the thread Of all the things inside my head And then
Remembering a poem of long ago Twas memorized for school I know By Bobby Burns called To a Mouse For days recited around the house “The best laid plans gang aft aglee” Now like the mouse my plans for knee The operation was so long Poor Brenda worried what went wrong And then we learned
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This poem is called Buyer or Seller Beware. I hope you have not fallen prey. Just enjoy the poem. He had me in his sights to steal Through cunning made it seem so real With fake emails with PayPal’s seal He teased to make me such a deal If only I would pay him now
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I call this poem A Stone of My Own. Read on and see why. I hope you enjoy. Upon my shelf I have a stone When young I took it for my own A piece of limestone that’s in laid With fossils time and weight have made Back then I covered it with glue The
This is a poem I wrote about Celebrating Eucharist On My Birthday at age 67. I hope you enjoy. While standing at the altar there Within my mind a sight appeared Of me when maybe six or eight Was kneeling in a humble state Before another altar then As acolyte with little ken Of Holy
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This a poem for widows and widowers. I call it A Unique Group because there is only one unhappy way to become a member . A friend of mine just joined the club Not many in this little hubMore oft its women who belong And learn the music of this song A sad lament that