Filling Her Basket

Filling Her Basket

 

She spent her life filling her basket

With delicious and beautiful eggs.

They were smooth and delightful, not blemished or flawed.

For such beauty our worldly thought begs.

As the basket filled up strange things happened.

The eggs she most cherished would crack.

The mess they would make made her cry in despair,

For no mending could get the eggs back.

So she cleaned up the mess they had made her,

And she wiped all the other eggs clean.

Then she looked and cried out in amazement.

More eggs cracked where the others had been

.

 

She decided those eggs were the problem.

There were better ones near to be had.

But, alas, they all cracked in the middle,

And her goal was defeated and sad.

What's happened to all I've accomplished?

Why do my plans fail to succeed?

Why can't all my eggs stay unbroken?

Just to keep what I have is my need.

But she didn't surmise that her problem

Was not with the eggs she could find.

She didn't know she had the wrong basket.

To the fact of this she was so blind.

August 30: National Toasted Marshmallow day or

 National Marshmallow toasting Day or

 (Marshmallow on a Campfire Day)

Today we celebrate in a very special way

For today is National Toasted Marshmallow Day.

But the critics have bolted and want us to say

That our marshmallows get toasted in another way.

To say they are toasted is not the point. Nay!

To say How they're toasted on fire or tray

Just isn't the reason they're all in a fray.

How about National Marshmallow Toasting Day?

They pick and they quiver, they stammer and sway.

Does anyone think they are crazy to bray?

I say they bemoan too much. Gads! They are fey!

Contemplate Marshmallow on a Campfire Day.

So I'll say it however I feel like today,

Because I know there are three choices to weigh.

But do you think all this fuss should go away?

It's ONLY National Toasted Marshmallow Day!

Hope

HOPE

 

Today your day is perfect.

It's beautiful and calm.
Tomorrow can destroy your life.
Who's gonna be there for you?

Your children are the best in town.

They make you smile with pride.

Tomorrow life could strike them down.

Who ya gonna turn to?

Today you're healthy, feeling good.

No one can hold you down.

Tomorrow all your health is gone.

Who you gonna call on?

You've worked so hard to grow your wealth.

You're comfortable and you prosper.

Tomorrow will see Wall Street crash.

Who ya gonna run to?

When all is gone, where is the hope?

There's only One can lift you up.

If you seek Him now He will be the One.

He's the One you can always run to.

inspired by Psalm 9: 9-10

The Woman Within

Her nails are done neatly to follow the fashion.

She pampers them daily and guards them with care.

They frame the elegance of her manicured hands.

She displays them with pride so that people will stare.

But when she is crossed the polish will dull.

The shine turns to daggers of evil and hate.

No one in their path can be safe to escape them.

They'll tear out your eyes, they'll determine your fate.

 

 

Just look at the beauty and charm of her face!

She's delightful to look on, and easy to love.

Her features are lovely; her mouth a red bow.

Her figure is perfection; her eyes like a dove.

But anger can mottle this beautiful countenance.

All eyes turn away from the disfigured frame.

Just to be in her presence will cause strife and aversion.

No delight in her visage, and evil is to blame.

Telephone Books

 

TELEPHONE BOOKS

 

I heard the door bell and went to look.

"Oh, great! Another telephone book!"

I glanced at the pile already delivered,

And I wished it was legal to dump them upriver.

I wonder, but really I'm afraid to look,

How many companies publish telephone books?

I've counted, and so far I come up with five

Who pass out their product to all those alive.

And each one never puts it all in one book,

So, sometimes I'm not sure in which book to look.

If I'm looking for lawn care I try Yellow Pages.

Three pages of small print! So it takes me ages!

If I want Joe Smith the white pages should tell,

Except now it doesn't 'cause he uses a cell.

So, if everyone's changing to cells and facebook,

Tell me why I need all these telephone books!

Each book is at least three inches thick,

And they weight the table down like a brick.

With ten books or more I'm starting to glower.

Good grief! This pile of books looks like a tower!

 

So, I have decided to do things my way.

If they try to deliver another today

I will tell them all to go jump in the river,

'Cause another book here you're not gonna deliver.

The Difference

THERE IS A DIFFERENCE

Her shoulders are bent from the years of hard work.

You can never see her smile as she tells you of her pain.

She needs our love and mercy, she needs us to be there,

But it's always so hard to go back again.

The life was tough for this trooper of a man.

He worked hard to give his family a home.

But his smile can brighten the darkest room,

And he greets us all sweetly whenever we come.

Their time is spent longing for family and friends,

And their loved ones try to see them or call.

The man is so grateful for all that's bestowed,

And she complains loudly that they don't come all.

Father, help me remember that I have the choice

To be grateful or hardened by all in my life.

Convict me if love doesn't saturate my being,

And let me smile boldly through comfort or strife.

Thinking of Daddy

He quietly observes the room.

He misses nothing in his realm.

His eyes are fixed on the news he reads,

But he’s in control. He’s at the helm.

His gentle confidence is always there

As he softly whistles through his teeth.

There is no waver, he never falters.

His strength encloses him like a wreath.

He rises early to prepare for the day.

He is constant, a hard worker, with lines on his brow.

Vacations are rare and finances skimpy.

He lives for today. He stays true to his vow.

I can summon the sound of his hearty laughter.

It echoes with memories of times spent together.

His temper was fiery, but his love was ongoing.

Devoted to family, love never fair-weather.

I adored him and always longed to be like him.

And I pitied his deeply haunted past.

Harsh memories of tragedy, the deaths of his children.

His emptiness within him was bitter and vast.

He left my life early, never knowing my children.

I miss his quiet presence, his strength and his love.

But I rest in the knowledge that he accepted the Savior.

To see him again, that’s what I’m dreaming of.