My True Confession

I have a true confession of a fault behind the scenes.

I'm involved with something shady, and I know just what it means

To be filled with guilt and anguish over something that you've done,

And each night I find it hard to sleep as my pain I try to shun.

It started out so sweetly, and the danger wasn't there.

But, as time went by I realized the consequence I bear.

The torture that's involved in this is frightful and quite cruel.

There's an element sadistic in the one who acts the fool.

When demons creep into your life, the awful truth of it

Is the satisfaction it provides, and a lifestyle you can't quit.

Oh! The ecstasy experienced when first that forbidden taste

Propels you to the knowledge of prodigality and waste.

Yes, I'm guilty. And, what's more is I'm addicted to my fate.

This colossal fact is something I abominate and hate.

But, deep down there's this love and joy each time I lose the fight,

For, I must confess, I love the taste of a luscious Snickers Bite.

The Terrible Plight of the In-ear Cell Phone User

            I stood in the doorway and covered my ears.            

The voices that haunt me are back, it appears.

Why do they keep talking? Please leave me alone!

Oh, why did I buy this in-ear cell phone?

People must think I'm crazy. They're starting to stare

As I talk to these voices that loom everywhere!

They're in the supermarkets. They're in the auto shop.

God help me! I think the my head's going to pop!

                                                          

                                                           

  However did this happen? Am I going insane?

The voices just keep on talking even when I refrain.

I asked for a refund from Apple, but NO!

They refused my inquiry and told me to GO!

                                                             

So, I am resolved to believe I've gone mad.

With the voices and laughter, I've definitely had

Enough of this crazy, mind boggling display.

I can bear it no longer!  Please, just take me away!

I Didn't

Yesterday I saw him as he shopped.

I wanted to tell him he's been on my mind,

And I pray for him. I know things have been tough.

I should have offered help in his time of need.

But, I didn't.

I saw her at the doctor's office last week.

She said the tests they ran were many and bleak.

I wanted to tell her Christ is the real hope,

And I should have told her how He rescued me.

But, I didn't.

She called me once again to share her woes.

I rolled my eyes and settled in my chair.

I should have offered to go and hold her hand.

I should have cared enough to do what I can.

But, I didn't.

Life is hard, we suffer with its hardness and cares.

When Jesus gives opportunities to help,

We should be eager to lend a hand.

Our stories of salvation, healing, and hope

Are the words that sometimes lifts a loved one up.

We have so much to offer, our resources to aid,

Our time is better spent with one who hurts.

I should have given my all to help my friends.

But I didn't.

The Goose and the Turkey

Out in the barnyard late last year

There wasn't much laughter, and there wasn't much cheer,

Cuz all the geese and turkeys were a'cryin' in their beer,

And the same were bein' pestered by the donkey and the steer.

All the critters figgered that it was fall,

With the leaves a'fallin' down, and the tracters at a crawl,

And the moon was nigh as big as a colorful beach ball,

And all the farmer wanted to do was watch football.

The geese and the turkey out in the hay

Were duckin' and a-dodgin' from morn to night each day,

Cause the farmer's wife was watchin', and then they heard her say

That the day was soon a-comin', and they called it Thanksgiving Day.

The donkey and steer laughed at their strife,

Cuz the goose and the turkey were a-feerin' for their life.

You could see their heads pop up and down each time they saw the wife,

And every time they were makin' sure she didn't have a knife.

Alas, that day, it did come about,

And all the barnyard shivered when they heard those birdies shout.

The farmer made them fatter, and they were nice and stout

When the wife showed up to catch 'em as the farmer called 'em out.

But, this year it's just not the same,

Cuz the goose and turkey can't be found when farmer calls their name.

There's a hint of a little shiver, but there's no use for a flame,

Cuz the goose and turkey ain't around. And old Fido is takin' the blame.

           

The Infamous Pipedream of Dragoon Baboon

If I could create a nonsensical cartoon,

I would have as its character a silly baboon

Who lives in an old-fashioned western saloon,

And spits long, black spirals in a rusty spittoon.

Dragoon Baboon

  His digs would have gold, brass and silver festoons

With paintings on the walls of colorful balloons.

 All his rooms are a mess, with his music bestrewn,
For he loves to entertain with his woodwind bassoon.

                    Dragoon's Digs              
            
        
               

His breakfast would be honored at every forenoon
With the same menu item of fried crab rangoon
That he caught on his outings with his trusty harpoon,
Which he bought from a pirate for fifteen dragoons.

Cheap Pirate

So, you see, if my ink pen and I were attune
We could write a queer story of Dragoon Baboon
Who got up mid-mornings just to commune
From his music hall mansion we call a saloon,
And eat strange food daily at the crack of forenoon,
And behave as a crab killing, harpooning buffoon.
My bassoon playing, cartoon of Dragoon Baboon.

The Rose and the Candle

Carefully carry the flickering candle.

Make sure the flame is secure and well lit.

The surface beneath it is liquid and fragile.

The slightest misstep can extinguish it.

Love the rose gently, and carry it softly.

It's beauty is fragile and bruises with ease.

The velvety petals are lovely and fragrant.

But gone in an instant in a strong breeze.

Lovingly, carefully hold to your loved ones.

Their lives can be fleeting and gone at a turn.

Press closer always to give them assurance

Your presence supports them brightly to burn.

So, thus the existence of candle and roses.

Their lifetime is shortened if jostled about.

Take heed if you love them, but always remember

They brighten our days, but are quickly snuffed out. 

Broken

It's a place of confinement with shutters all around.

Not a sound enters in to soothe or mask the pain.

The shutters won't open for just a glimpse of sun.

They've bolted all the doors, and no escape remains.

Frantically I search the walls for glitches they've not seen.
Running in circles, reaching out for hidden roads to take.
There's nothing. No one. It seems they all rush by.
Their life explodes with laughter and, like fine glass, mine breaks.

Unknown voices venture closer. Do they threaten? Are they mine?

How I need a voice of reason in my maddening despair!

As the voices strive to calm my anxious spirit, I can see

The walls begin to crumble, small rays of hope lurking there.

It's a tragic, solitary place of doubt and fear, like dying.
The loneliness of being lost in a strange and hostile world.
The demons crouch and hover, taking all the breath you have.
It's the loneliest place I've ever been, where I am broken and hurled.

Yesterday When I Was Fifteen

We walked the long way home from school

Hoping to delay our time apart.

Best friends and classmates, we tarried in the sun

Of September afternoons so dear to our hearts.

Yesterday, when I was fifteen.

Our arms were laden with huge stacks of books.

Homework instructions are hidden from sight.

Jackets and sweaters draped over our arms

Were welcome this morning, but cumbersome tonight.

Yesterday, when I was fifteen.

All the beautiful streets of our small hometown

Baking and bustling in the hot autumn sun.

Full of big dreamers on their way to mom and dad,

Recklessly talking and having teenage fun.

Yesterday, when I was fifteen.

Falls City High School

It was the sixties, and our heyday was near.

We were innocent so briefly, some so close to war.

They had no intentions of dying so quickly,

We had no idea this day had happened before.

Yesterday, when I was fifteen.

We all went our ways to discover our destinies.

We now have grown older and long for rest.

I still think of school days and warm days of autumn.

I still think our time in life is simply the best.

And yesterday, when I was fifteen.

This poem is dedicated to the five men from Falls City who died in Vietnam.

FALLS CITY, NEBRASKA:
SP5 GARY WAYNE DUNN	SN PAUL AUGUST HOLTZ	LCPL MELVIN ERNEST KUHLMAN
PVT CARL ROBERT MARRS	PFC ROBERT DENNIS MURPHY

My Heart My Home

When spring holds nothing back with its refreshing April rains,

The richness of the coal black earth brings forth a beautiful sight.

I watch the grasses wave across the prairie in the summer breeze.

I gaze across the rolling hills, perfection in the absence of intrusion,

Like an emerald green sea of billowing waves it rolls and rolls forever.

This is the breathtaking scene as you wander the country roads

Of a lovely mid-western farmland, lush and rich with the scent of new birth.

I long for an afternoon of slowly driving through the prairie lands

Of my home, the land that raised me and offered beauties to my soul.

The land that I ever long for. My heart. My home. My Nebraska.

Liars In Ugly Clothes

Never trust your emotions.

They're liars in ugly clothes.

They fill your head with nonsense

And thoughts you would never suppose.

They're evil little tricksters

Wrapped up in deception and fear.

Their purpose is to try to convince you

To believe what's not really there.

When you're feeling sad or lonely,

Emotions tell you no one cares.

Just look around at those who love you,

And trust in yourself if you dare.

Your emotions are a state or reaction

Of unreasoned opinion or belief.

They make you susceptible to impressions

That cause inner turmoil and grief.

Emotions cause violent reactions

Of anger and malice and hate.

It's never wise to trust emotions

Or allow them to dictate your fate.

For emotions will fill you with nonsense,

And defeat and self-doubt always grows.

Never trust your emotions.

For they're liars in ugly clothes.

The Most Beautiful Flower

The most beautiful creation on earth is a flower. 

Some stately and tall, some dainty and small.

They capture my fancy for hour upon hour.

But the iris is most beautiful of all.

The iris blooms early in the cool of the Spring.

Its companions are peonies and poppies and such.

Their soft fragrance lifts the heart, melodies to sing.

Soft as fine silk and like satin to touch.

                                             Their breath but a whisper, they fade all too soon.

Their countenance flutters and waves in the breeze.

They pose tall and elegant in yellows and blues.

God gave them a presence to calm and to please.

I cherish the roses, the daisies and phlox,

The pansies and marigolds aligned on my cart.

I adore the strong succulents that thrive in the rocks.

And the lilies come closest to stealing my heart.

But, how I love the iris over all of the rest!

It reigns in my garden, overshadowing the whole.

Yes, it's only the iris that stands to the test

Of pleasing my senses and soothing my soul.

Whatever Happened to Yesterday?

Wasn't it just yesterday that my child took his first steps?

His grandmother stood just inches away from him

When I slowly removed his fingers from my hand.

And his world changed forever, and the moment was so grand!

Wasn't it just yesterday when the nurse entered my room,

And blasting from the blanket was this shocking red hair!

I recognized my father in the countenance of my child,

And smiled with acceptance of his temper, fierce and wild.

Wasn't it just yesterday they leaned over me and proclaimed

The birth of a beautiful daughter. I sobbed with joyful tears.

She was the one who kept me grounded and led me to the Lord.

She gave me peace of mind that I sought, but could never afford.

Whatever happened to yesterday? Where has the time all gone?

Wasn't it here a moment ago? Now it's nowhere to be found.

Now yesterday lingers in memories and lives within my tears.

I've found that it can be yesterday in the reminiscence of the years.

What If?

What if I left the house today and got hit by a car?
What if I play it safe and stay home? Who'll pay my rent?
What if I love that man and he doesn't love me?
What if I love anyway and enjoy the time spent?
What if I let go of my child's hand and he falls on his face?
What if I grasp him so tightly he never grows?
What if I climb that mountain and die in an avalanche?
What if I do something awesome and no one knows?
What if I write that book and no one reads it?
What if I don't tell the memories my grandchildren want to hear?
What if I clean my house today and no one visits?
What if I leave it a mess because I think no one cares?
What if I speak to that woman and she turns away from me?
What if I keep to myself and I have no friends?
What if I laugh and no one laughs with me?
What if I don't join the group? What message will it send?
What if I study hard and still fail the test?
What if I don't study and just get a passing grade?
What if I act like it doesn't matter?
What if I just forget all the promises I made?
What if I choose to be friendly and happy?
What if I choose to love every disagreeable human?
What if I laugh and gather all my loved ones around me?
What if I revel in and choose to enjoy the  friendship of every man?
What if I treat people as if each one matters to me?
What if I remember to obey and delight in God's Word?
What if I choose to make a difference in the world, no matter what?
What if I make people glad I stopped being so absurd?

It's All In A Word

I love to explore it! Imagination gets stirred

When I dwell on the prospect of an exciting new word.

As my heart's beating faster, poetic juices are spurred.

Productivity is altered, household chores are deferred.

I've no time for the usual. My computer is preferred.

The sound of its humming can be overheard.

The time spent reflecting can be quite absurd.

Ah! Such is the life of a genuine word nerd.

If you listen quite closely the sounds can be heard

Over flutters and chirping of the tiniest bird.

It's the ooing and aahing of thoughts undeterred,

And the pronunciations that never get slurred.

And late in the evening when the eyes are so blurred

They will wish that the images that they incurred

Did not appear fuzzy, or fraggled or furred.

A word that is written must never be whirred.

And so,  my obsession with quips that I've heard,

And all this rejoicing of each little word

Are taking their toll on the brain that it stirred.

And such is the life of a certified word nerd.

Party Animals

                                              "The Third-term Panic" by Thomas Nast, published 

                                                                            in 1874 by Harper's Weekly, on a      

                                                                 possible third term by President Ulysses S. Grant.

                                                           HARPER'S WEEKLY 

I pondered one day, just who started this mess

Of two party animals that cause us such stress.

This all needs explaining about these great goons.

It's the Dems. and the Reps. and their animal cartoons.

The donkey was first for a staunch democrat.

It was given to him who had thrown in his hat

For the campaign for president in 1828.

Andrew Jackson's his name. President was his fate.

It seems that a famous cartoonist named Nast

Then used the poor donkey to settle and cast

This animal firmly in a democrat cartoon.

And there it was set for those democrat baboons.

Thomas Nast was the same guy in 1874

Who used the cartoon as he had once before.

A jackass chasing animals that lived in a zoo.

But the elephant stood still to represent you-know-who.

The republican vote took the elephant as theirs

And decided that Nast had finally answered their prayers.

Harpers Weekly was the paper that started it all.

And now every paper has answered the call.

The Reps. and the Dems. for once got things their way.

And the symbols are enduring to this very day.





                                            

My Laundry Quandry

I opened the door to the laundry room
And decided to face my eminent doom.
I don't have to look, cause I know there's a ton.
Today is the day to get the laundry done!

I started to sort the whites from the reds,

And soon I had clothes towering over my head.

Then the pile toppled my way, so I started to run.

Oh, I've just GOT to get this laundry done!

And, wouldn't you know it? I heard the phone ring!

Hallelujah! It's about time someone called on that thing!

It's the hubby. Wants to know why his shorts he has none.

Would I PLEASE try to get today's laundry done?

"I know. I've been busy running errands and such.

No! I don't think that I have been shopping too much!
Yes. I'll get to it now. You can count on me, Hon."
Now I've REALLY got to get today's laundry done.

But, there's groceries to buy, and I've got this new book.
I've got supper to make, and I have nothing to cook.
Just then Cindy stopped by. Let's go have us some fun!
Yes. Tomorrow's a good day to get my laundry done.

BEWARE THE VILLIAN

He lurks in the shadows hidden by a cloth.

His moves are furtive and careful as a sloth.

He makes no sound to betray his trance.

He's careful and he's quick with every glance.

As a thief he knows his way around.

He must succeed, so he'll stand his ground.

If the mistress of the house gets wise,

She'll be on to his deceit and lies.

So he feasts his eye upon the prey.

A chicken leg lay on a tray.

And just as he's about to leap,

The mistress rises to her feet.

A vigil under the table is over.

It's Milkbone only tonight for Rover.

I'M NOT MYSELF TODAY

I woke up feeling out of sorts, with a headache on its way.

By the time I reached the office I knew I was not myself today.

But, who am I, I pondered, if I truly was not me?

How could I know I was not I if I knew I was not me?

There should be a simple answer to the question in my mind

Of who I am, if I'm not me, and where on earth could I find

Reliable sources willing to explain to me this day

Just who I am, since I'm quite sure I am not myself today.

The notion has occurred to me that if I were so inclined,

I could change who I am, become someone else, that is, if I could find

A person of certain standards, feeling a headache on its way,

And having that very strange feeling that they're not themselves today.

Perhaps they have this question that is preying upon their mind

Of who they are, if they're not they, and where on earth to find

Someone to give them answers and explain to them, some way,

Just who they are, since they're so sure they are not themselves today.

But, common sense and uncertainty left all those thoughts behind.

My coffee cleared my head and in the mirror I would find

That I was where I ought to be, and I dashed wild thoughts away.

It was really quite disheartening to find, I was still myself today.

You're Never Too Old

You're never too old to act goofy.

There's always a time and a place

When the moment allows for sheer pleasure

In making that silly clown face.

You're never too old to blow bubbles,

Or bounce on the kid's trampoline.

There's always good fun in the sprinkler,

Or dressing up for Halloween.

You're never too old to play Twister,

Or to ride on the merry-go-round.

Just chasing the kids with a squirt gun

Is the best fun that can be found.

You're never too old to act goofy,

For if you're too old to have fun,

You'll miss most of life's joyful moments

Because joy has never begun

.

Dust Bunnies Under the Bed

I've cleaned my house for forty years,

And I try to keep ahead.

But, every time a guest arrives

They find dust bunnies under their bed.

I can clean and dust almost every day.

Keep the rooms as neat as a pin.

But just when "honey" leaves his socks on the floor

All the neighbors decide to drop in.

It's amazing how everything stays in its place

When you're home alone day after day.

But the minute the kids bring the muddy dog in

The preacher comes by just to pray.

I don't understand how your friends always know

What the worst time to visit could be.

It seems like a magnet is drawing them in

When there's fighting 'tween "honey" and me.

If I leave the dishes to curl up with a book,

You can bet the doorbell will start ringing.

And, if I am sick or decide to sleep in,

It's a cinch that my phone won't stop singing.

So, I'll clean every day and keep up best I can.

And, on good days I might get ahead.

But, I know that if "honey's" mom visits today,

She'll find dust bunnies under the bed.

My Morning Rendezvous

Listening to the morning breeze,                                      

The gentle whisper speaks my name.

I often come to hear His call

And spend time alone in His embrace.

The early sun is soft and warm

And dances through the lofty pines.

I rest, alone, and wait to hear

Him speak. Serenity is mine..

He whispers promises so dear,

And comforts my uneasy thoughts.

My sometimes waining faith gains strength.

My heart longs for His forever love.

My morning rendezvous fulfills

The empty places deep inside.

He knows the words I need to hear.

He knows why I come. And He's always there.

No other love could ever thrill

The way He makes my heart delight.

No other place would I rather be

Than to spend these moments alone with Him.

The morning breeze calls out to me.

I know my Jesus. He knows my name.

My love grows stronger, and so, my faith.

I trust my love with each morning breath.

The Family of Voices Inside Your Head

There’s a family of voices that are inside your head.

They’re somewhat prolific and very well fed.
Some are illiterate, but most are well-read.

They’re a family of voices that are inside your head.

There’s a family of voices that are inside your head.

There’s a lady named Ethel. There’s a man there named Fred.

There is also Wayne, Gertrude, Beth, Tony and Ted.

It’s the family of voices that are inside your head.

There’s a family of voices that are inside your head.

They like fancy dishes and honey with bread.

They will even come visit you when you’re in bed.

They’re a family of voices that are inside your head.

There’s a family of voices that are inside your head.

They come in wild colors of green, pink and red.

They dote on false stories, or so it is said

Of the family of voices that are inside your head.

There’s a family of voices that are inside your head.

They thrive in the dark with no light on them shed.

You won’t be surprised at the tales they spread.

It’s that family of voices that are inside your head.

There’s a family of voices that are inside your head.                  

You may think that you're crazy, but you’ve nothing to dread.

It’s something that makes you so normal instead

With a family of voices that are inside your head.

There’s a family of voices that are inside your head

With beautiful fabric of silvery thread.

They say that they’ll be there until you are dead.

That family of voices that are inside your head.