This month to write a poem a day
for thirty days — I’m late! I’m late!
I just now saw it — What can I say?
Gross tardiness — oh, how I hate
arriving last! ‘Tis better not
to try — pretend you didn’t know,
plead ignorance! Other paths are fraught
with pain and shame — you mustn’t go!
You beggar for mental anguish! Write,
then, if you must — erase this blight
of guilt — wash your rhymeless sins.
The man of strictest discipline wins.
Christian live to serve, in quiet trust,
As humble stewards, because, in Christ, we must;
Our common, simple tasks, at every hour,
As best we can, contain redemptive power.
Maybe the Lord will approve of this simplest of verses:
God listens to the smallest fear,
He notes the single falling tear,
He answers every needy call,
And loves the lowest man of all.
From loneliness, fear, and pain we flee,
We seek a stronger wine;
Our weakness hides in the deepest sea,
Where never the sun will shine.
Keep your word. Don’t make promises lightly.
The broken word will also break a friendship
Or marriage, that long-time vow. The tongue is mighty
To bind or loose, to build or fully destroy.
Incautious lips remove the one most precious;
The flippant phrase is the thief of peace and joy.
Our limits may force us to tough decisions,
That in the end bring greater blessing;
God finds a wider field for provisions,
As circumstance becomes more pressing.
Our private life is in the street,
Beyond our walls and doors;
In public we uncover our feet —
Man upon all fours.
The aside spoken twixt thee and me in whispers,
Or else is muttered only to my whiskers —
The worldly need not hear at first our struggles,
But see the Spirit of God in human troubles.
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