Archives: Poems

Our Badge of Honor

You showed us by your service, which your face proudly displays,
the personal sacrifice you gave. It touches us today.

The numbers tell a summary of the great emotional toll,
which engulfed all those around in a massive life sinkhole.

But you are each survivors, and the flag’s still proudly flown,
yet part of you remains where grass and soil are overgrown.

Each day you live among us and we’re grateful you were there.
Please accept our humble gratitude as a badge we’ll gladly wear.

A Man of Valor

In recognition of the service wrought by this brave man,
His service some great medals won, because he took a stand.

When mailed to him in expectation — his own honor to bear,
Someone stole the contents of this very special fare.

So now we’re here — decades removed, yet honor was not gone.
No thief can take away the place where true courage belongs.

A medal is seen in visual sight, yet reveals what’s in the heart.
We honor Dennis here today; a man of valor from the start.


Av – o – cado –
Up to 65 feet it grows.
A flowering plant with berry fruit,
But there’s one 6 foot flower I know.
Berry good. That’s the word from Cricket, who is such a delightful hoot.

In the tropics he does really well, and he’ll gladly tell of the growth that comes within.
Free from sin, for He let Christ Jesus come in.
Avocado is free to bloom for Him.

Av –o – cado –
Planted in the warmth of God’s dear Son,
Basking also in the heat of his own hon.
Oh, how wonderful,
Is everything God’s done.

And you can see it, peering beneath each life task,
answering what our Lord Himself does ask.
Seeking, toiling in ardent prayer.
The harvest will be very glad he’s there.

Av – o – cado –
Thank you, Lord, for Cricket’s guy.
No one had better ever try
To soil the path God has laid on high.
Never late, even if nudged by his mate.
Like Dennis, avocados make this world great.

Three-Tiered Love

Three-tiered level, lovely in splendor.
Its pillars uphold it in view.
It ascends unto growth, as we sway back and forth
In this garden of love where we bloom.

Its pinnacle clings to the height wherein leans,
This physical eros of love.
Passions abound, our feet off the ground.
This intimate gift from above.

In the midst of the climb, we find just in time
The level of love of the friend.
The phileo dream, where our hearts catch a gleam
Of support from them, which never ends.

The structural base from which true love’s embraced, the loving expression of God.
Agape divine – this “One of a kind”-
Without which these tiers crash the sod.
Three levels of love, connected they are;

Dependant on each for support.
Start with God, then ascend,
Or the tiers start to bend.
Only with God is love of this sort.

Two Work as One

Chocolate mixed with smooth-style oil,
Reese’s peanut butter, this.
Two separate ingredients forming one-
A reese’s candy bliss.

Ev’n so, two divergent thoughts
Form solely on one main.
I think it so, no sweeter sound
To mesh life’s rough terrain.

Science, awareness of what’s seen,
And God, seen through faith’s scope;
Coat us each in creation where
A world is needing some hope.

The unseen using what is seen
To bring forth things to sprout.
These buds of life can live forever
It’s something worth talking about.

Pearl in the Chest

A treasure chest is found scattered among the weeds and moss.
To divers it appears at first that all valuables are lost.

Behold, open that lock and look – the vault of gems therein.
To share the prize of these inside, we hardly can begin.

Their worth exceeds the picture drawn, if searchers truth they seek.
They need to delve in deeper, not accepting mere small peek.

Glimmering among the jewels, the pearl, in all its stride.
Its essence makes you desire more, so you eagerly peer inside.

The coat of this gem, a distinctive placement rare,
Makes everything contained look dainty and fair.

The pearl of great price, displaced from his royal throne,
Appeared in our midst, long ago seeking to atone.

His presence made our darkness light,
And in him all wrong can be made right.

Close to his chest are the stones of allure,
They hang as gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

He covers us in the shadow of his hand, an oyster asleep.
Enfolds around us protection and care, where he knows we’ll keep.

In that shell is a comfort from the storm, a shield from rage.
And in our time of youth-loved thought, this one will never age.

Where Are the Tracks?

Common theme of years gone by, if trouble came right back.
It must be you’re on the wrong side, the wrong side of the tracks.
In present world, no tracks exist. Trouble’s on every side.
There’s no suburb or rural place to flee so you can hide.

In inner city, January eve, a house burns, mother dies.
In northeast suburb, dear friend’s stabbed. In blood, her body lies.
Distinction, none, the tracks are gone. The hands of violence great.
Without the tracks, the train roars on. The help still comes too late.

What can be done in city, state, for raging sea of slain?
First, keep in mind that evil lurks beneath some who seem sane.
The deadly virus of this plague transmits through dormant rage.
Don’t ignore the book of violence. You may appear on its next page.

The Soil of Change

The soil on which we’re standing was disturbed so long ago.
It changed our life’s foundation and brought tears and much sorrow.

Now the soil, in its resting movement, does contain the buds of life.
The flowers bloom in heaven for this husband and his dear wife.

And we stand upon the promise that a seed goes in the ground
And springs life beyond earth’s measure of where victory abounds.

Surely tears have watered this garden, with our love for mom and dad,
And still growing is the realization of the gift we each have had.

For the soil thrust hard upon us, with the change and growth of time,
Is a marker in our journey that they’ve crossed the finish line.

Take a Shot at the Sixties

The shots of words -a stinger’s edge. The promise sought was lost.
The measure of this decade’s deeds, mount up to this day’s cost.

The shots of drugs – the needles gave a high none else could reach.
The lows ensued and pulled them down and killed a lot of each.

The years went on and war dragged on. This hate – it stripped us bare.
The problem was, the soldiers brave, were treated so unfair.

The demonstrators lined the walk, while fortress blocked the ear,
Of those whose signature could still the distant noise so near.

The rounds of bullets, none deflect; their aim, specific ones
Were killed because they stood. How sad for mothers’ sons.

With J.F.K. It blew our minds, so needless was this thing.
And R.F.K.’s death broke our hearts; a healing yet to bring.

Dr King, he had a dream, but we woke up to find.
The balcony of hopes split us open wide.

The sixties brought a round of pain. Perplexed were we, still are.
The scars have festered and remained. We thought we came so far.

Transcending Seasons

Transcending seasons we call life, the frigid and the warm.
Relationships change in time, for space; their breath
Takes a new form.

Proceed in full circle, beyond surface gate,
To a place where the breech may be closed.
Dig deeper together to find common ground,
This groundbreaking treaty’s rose.

Movement in turns takes coldness of touch
To inaugurate summer’s found friend.
Whether family or not, give new chance a spot.
Build this circle where love does not end.