General Selections - Section III

Be Gentle With This Day
A day of beauty comes to mind
which may be almost any kind
but some I like to think about
are summer days which do abound.

Trees so beautiful at hand
and beauty’s placed across the land –
enough for every living soul
and sun and wind and rain unfold.

In settings beautiful as these
why be the only one displeased
and loose your wrath and temper on
his gracious beauty flowing on.

Why be angry if you can
when heaven itself lies close at hand.
Immerse yourself in blessed day
and wash your cares and frets away.

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Dear Lord May I Just Watch the Sky
Dear Lord may I just watch the sky
without a streetlight on nearby.
Watch thy very special dawn
without a streetlight being on.

The dawn of day is just thy own,
without our light and noise below.
In perfect stillness, quietness,
watch you wake the sky from rest.

When we were a younger child
we were quiet in our mind
long before the sun did rise
and rose to meet the wakening sky
happy in those days gone by.

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Will This Day Ever End...
I've begged a thousand times
daybreak unto dusk
but still it never dies.

Misery unto misery
but still it lingers on,
endurance ragged with the shocks
but still they’re never gone.

Consolations there were none
but yet the day was never done.
Blow by blow and beat by beat
its assaults did never cease
but always came as just one more
added to the ones before.

Just to forget and lay to rest
this dire and dreadful day
when finally all the endless shocks
at last have had their way.

But now it seems that peace somehow
has wended slow its way
and caught up with the very end
of this disastrous day.

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Trees
We often take for granted
the great and noble trees,
existing in their world
almost unconsciously.

For they were much before us,
living graciously,
and covered much of earth,
the creatures and the trees.

And millions years did come and go
and night and day and sun
and no one heard of us
in all creation.

Just the lovely trees
existing peacefully
in rain and wind and light and dark
and naught disturbed their dream.

The trees are very beautiful
each in its own way,
loftily or graciously
have so much to say.

We can’t begin to understand
just what they mean to us
or capture what their essence is,
a vast elusiveness.

For they were here before us
and formed our thoughts and dreams
and led our hopes so subtly
we know not how it seems.

Solid and yet yielding,
eternal strength and grace,
we cannot figure out
what fascinates our gaze.

And tho we love the trees
we can never say
just what it is that draws us
or why it is that way.

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The Happiness We Often Cause
The happiness we often cause
when we plant a tree
may last for many years
tho unknowingly.

Someone in most distant time
may buy our house or yard
and marvel at the greenery,
a real work of art.

Standing tall and lovely
from when they were so small
of the time when they began
don’t think of it at all.

And so the gift is cherished,
renewing every day
and goes for years beyond our life
when we are in our grave.

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The Arabian Dress
The beautiful Arabian dress
is sinuous, supple too
and always full of life
as the wind blows thru.

A face mask also worn
which emphasizes eyes,
making beauty yet again
which draws and tantalize.

Gold and silver thread
may be sewn along
in beautiful designs
in this dress that’s long.

The Quran thus is very strict
about their public dress
and the honor of the men
depends on codes that met.

Tho it’s usually black
it would be pretty too
in colors that are gay
but yet cover too.

I think the women won again
with this gorgeous gown,
full within the law
and yet of world renown.

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My Organ
I have a lovely organ
with the deepest tone
and many slow vibrations
lovely in our home.

And tho it’s not played often
it has an atmosphere
of heaviness and solidness
which lasts throughout the years.

On top there is a statue,
young lady done in gold
and tho she’s quite composed
she’s not very old.

Her hands are clasped in prayer
and her head is bowed.
Wheat is in her skirt
and she has worked no doubt.

While the statue’s simple
its meaning is profound
of prayer and work and dignity
and reverence that is found.

Above we find the praying hands,
a message very old
and they are brown and bent,
the years have had their toll.

On the side a scroll
of a Chinese scene
and mountains and a river,
mostly blues and greens.

Some nobles are returning home
and they must ford the stream.
Young boys are helping them
in this mountain scene.

The mountains very high,
the people rather small.
This is very Chinese,
with lessons for us all.

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Beggars
Calling beggars by the score –
ask a penny, two, or more.
Misery, despair, their plight –
begging is a way of life.

Deformity is easily seen;
crowds will pass as if unseen.
Who can cry the loudest, most,
for someone to relieve his woe.

Everywhere a constant cry—
doorways, streets, to passersby.
Some will help, and some pass by.

Vendors sell their many wares,
but beggars ask of us a prayer,
to fill for them a tiny spot,
of hunger pangs that never stop.

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NO
Some folks are so negative
it seems that every thought
is stepping on a happiness
and bringing it to naught.

Or if a bit of happiness
still is peeping thru,
hasten to extinguish it
as these folks often do.

Negative in living
and negative in thought,
these folks wave the banner
that things be as they ought.

They douse all things original
and put out every smile
and make a stern encounter
with faces cast so vile.

And if you have to live with them
your life is very sad
for nothing change their countenance
and nothing makes them glad.

But always straight of face and stern
their only word is No,
enveloped in the negative
as on thru life they go.

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Light On Water, Always Moving
Light on water, always moving,
undulating in its glow.
Light at night, sometimes eerie
in the water’s deep dark flow.

Lanterns set in front of ships
cutting distance with each dip
until the light’s upon the shore
and ocean black that it was for.

Or two ships tie up at sea
exchanging goods and revelry.
Closer come the tiny lights
growing in the dark of night.

Sun in day and moon at night
giving different kinds of light.
One a broad expanse does light:
one a pathway in the night.

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Sometimes
Sometimes we know
and sometimes we don’t know.
In worldly ways are wise
but miss the little happiness
that makes us more alive.

Sometimes we care
and sometimes we don’t care,
like a ship gliding at seas
that passes another silently
and only the waves in the dead of night
knew they were there or even in sight.

Sometimes we’re glad
and sometimes we’re not glad,
like a buoy at sea
rising and falling alternately.

And the ways that we see
and the ways that we care
differ as day
and the night and the air.

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Sunken Treasure
Off the coast of Italy
in the deep blue sea
many ships have met their fate
all thru history.

Divers go and seek
for sunken treasure there,
statues, swords of ancient times
and belts that they did wear.

And sometimes when they find
a statue green with age
they marvel at the rounded lines
mellow any place.

And hold it in their hands
and wonder how they thought,
people who long gone
compelling beauty wrought.

Precious for its meaning,
precious for its lines
and the thought behind it
coming down in time.

And fascination grows
increasingly in time
at this little statue
and others of its kind.

And while we stand and hold it
the little fishes play
among the wreckage of the ship
of another day.

And life inspects the mystery
from another time
and livens up the waters
in the sea of brine.

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Ancient Ruins
Ancient ruins strung along
of ancient people now long gone.
Wonder, awe and mystery
surrounds the shrines and old cities
And we stand and wonder there
what was their cause and why and where.

Ancient wonders one by one
set far apart as they were done.
Egyptians and the Aztecs made
pyramids and ancient graves.

Ancient Buddhist temples too
set deep in jungles that they knew.
And we see them there today
with heavy vines and trees in place
and hardly can maintain their care
for the jungle growing there.

Our imagination grows
to worlds that were before our own –
ancient cities, ancient stones,
ancient writing new unknown.

What was their cause. We stand and gaze
at monuments that oft amaze.
Thru the centuries they wrought
and often God their only thought.

Religion was important then
and tho they all be only men
they built in stone eternity
monuments from which time flies.

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They Also Serve Who Only Sit and Wait
Waiting is a nasty word
to those who do it long,
depressing and restricting
as the years roll on.

Waiting for the phone to ring
as it was my duty,
I recalled my father’s quote
that stayed so long with me.

"They also serve who only sit and wait"
and it gave me some hope
that it was more than nothing,
those hours that often choke.

And I recalled a lighthouse
where for months alone
a man might stay on duty
tho it might be his home.

And good he did while waiting there
tho the hours long
and ships depended on it
by crews that they belonged.

And while they’re automatic
in the world today
many faithful souls
remained for many days.

And also in the forests
the towers were for fires
and many souls watched
in isolated hire.

As for the many wars
they had watchtowers too
and men stood thru the night
if enemy came thru.

And tho some things have changed today
we tire of waiting too
but can remember history
and they were waiting too.

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However Life is Tough and Hard
However life is tough and hard
often you can't find
any sympathetic
or any on your side.

This very odd phenomena
in truth can't be explained –
what is clear to you yourself
vanishes like rain.

If you speak or do not speak
it almost is the same.
Some don't even answer
tho to you is pain.

And so it seems our burdens,
if conscious or if not,
meet the same predestined fate
to vanish on the spot.

Not a single voice is heard,
I'm sorry for your state.
Not a note of sympathy
as you your tale relate.

And what is oh so big to you
meets the self same fate,
as if you didn't speak
or your woes relate.

It seems most peculiar
to find that silence there
as if they didn't hear
or never ever care.

And so you pick them up yourself
with silence in the air
and wonder who you're talking to
or if they're even there.

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Wood
We love wood for its color
and intricate design
and goodness unto man
with service throughout time.

Wood is for its mellowness
and deepest, richest tone
always satisfying,
never growing old.

It wouldn’t be the same
without the atmosphere
it brings into our mind
of naturalness quite near.

Oak forests in the fall
bend their branches down
and leaves all bronze and acorns
scatter all around.

And the autumn light
falls upon the bark
of strong and sturdy trees
in history made a mark.

And so the oak trees in the fall
with their giant base
have pathways thru the forest
that light and shade do grace.

And then we think of ships
that sailed the many seas,
mostly made of wood
all thru history.

From planks unto the bow
carved and fitted in
and trusted by the crew
who knew every inch,
its strength in stress and strain,
in storms and wind and sea
and how they could survive
if it were seaworthy.

And so it was a friend
which often saved their lives
and went beyond its strength
so seamen did survive.

Wood gives us the feeling
of solidness, content,
in all its kinds of uses
a lasting value meant.

Even in a pile of wood
speaking to us still
and many lessons teach us
of character and will.

We never tire of trees,
however life is long,
strong and yet compliant
regret when they are gone.

Inspiration often found,
resolve to carry on
in the constant strength of trees
enduring thru all wrong.

And lessons in a tree,
unconscious it may be,
models for our years of life
upstanding, silently.

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Apples Lying on the Ground
Apples lying on the ground,
such a waste you see,
for these are natural apples,
fell right off the tree.

Every year they grow themselves,
no pruning or no spray
and while they’re very good to eat
they’re hard to give away.

Even in recessions
you hesitate to ask
if they would like some apples –
I guess they’d rather fast.

Folks are used to store bought ones,
waxed and polished bright,
not a break upon their skins
and perfect in their sight.

They would be offended
by any little bruise
or hint it wasn’t perfect
and maybe friendship lose.

Some people wouldn’t recognize
apples on a tree
with variegated color
and each look differently.

Even now the stores can’t sell
fruit that’s just itself.
It must be powdered, roughed and rubbed
and look like something else.

It’s a shame that we don’t know
fruit that’s naturally
but actually we turn our nose
at fruit that’s on a tree.

And so the children feel disgust
for apples lying there
as eaten in the times of past
by their own forebears.

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This story is about a panda cub born in the wild as written up in National Geographic, Feb. 1993. It was in a panda reserve in China. This was the most impressive part:


A Newborn Panda
A panda cub born in the wild,
just a few days old,
a rare and precious sight
researchers did behold.

Of all the things I read
I was the most impressed
by the mother’s love
and her tenderness.

At each slight movement of the cub
or its slightest cry
as she held it in her arms,
she was right beside.

And did not eat for many days
but fasted in her love
to hold it in her arms
each thing be conscious of.

And so she held it many days
before she ever left
to forage in the woods,
in the wilderness.

And I was most impressed
by her unending care
and unbroken love
as she held it there.

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This poem is based on a true story published by National Geographic and also the International Wildlife magazine.

Siberian Tiger Cubs
Four tiger cubs were found
in Siberia
whose mother had been killed
by poachers very near.

They were ten weeks old
and tiger cubs were rare
for the many poachers
were sure to find them there.

The men who did research
were set to save their life,
far too young to live
in Siberian wild.

They took them to their shack
and took care of them,
deciding what to do
and what they would do then.

Two died of birth defects
which were very rare
but the others lived
and seemed to like it there.

They sent the tiger cubs
where they would be safe,
to a well known zoo
in the U.S.A.

They won’t live at home
but they won’t be killed
for profit and for greed
by man pursuing still.

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Rhythm
Nature’s rhythms complex
and full of counterplay.
On the ocean or the land
the wind blows how it may.

Branches blowing in the wind,
gusty without fail,
ceaseless motion in the air
in a springtime tale.

Raindrops add the rhythm
of water from on high
and gently pelt the patient leaves
and slide to earth nearby.

If a storm begins
the wind and rain do rage.
Furious is its forcefulness
until its strength abates
and peacefulness creeps o’er the land
freshly washed and new
and happiness lies in our heart
at the earth’s renewal.

Expressive in their element
are the wind and waves,
a never ending motion
in nature’s own display.

Wind and water mingle
in whimsy or in force
and have a complicated path
we never take for course.

We cannot follow wind and waves
to know what they will do.
In fascinating counterplay
marvel is renewed.

The ocean has a rhythm
and power all its own.
Every day we see it pound
upon the rocky coasts.

And as the waves rush toward the shore
they sometimes are wiped out
by water flowing back to sea
in a constant bout.

Sweeping is their melody
or churning over all
as the rhythm of the waves
ceaseless rise and fall.

And as the sun slips fast away
and slowly comes the night
sea and moon and waves do play,
water and moonlight.

Secretive the interlude,
only God knows it all,
as the shadowy water
stealthy rise and fall.

And the creature in the night
listen to the sounds
and peace envelopes forest lands
and all the earth around.

The cooling evening breeze begins
refreshing in its tone
and life subsides to rest and feel
the evening breezes blow.

Then hunger, day or night,
seizes as they lay
and they get up and search
for many kinds of prey.

Rhythms of the inner needs,
food and rest and play
intertwined and mingled
as the live each day.

Timing with the sun
and the seasons’ flow
set a pattern that repeats
predictable we know.

People also have their moods
besides the creature ones
and also have ideas
flowing thru their actions.

Rhythms of the inner moods
placid and then gay,
restless yearning and then peace
follow thru the day.

Words and language dominate
the many things they do.
Communication constant
as speech or thought renew.

Ripples of the voice,
waves of sound or light,
mingled interplay
clashing and then quiet.

Some people lead a frenzied life
rushing here and there.
Others are more quiet
and in themselves repair.

Some are quick and lively
and others drag along,
a learned or natural timing
that is short or long.

It may be that people
have a tempo all their own,
an inner pace or timing
that is fast or slow.

Even modern living
may be a faster pace
than many of the people
find is to their taste.

Envious to many
is a far more simple life
based on fundamentals
of the earth and sky.

They like the olden days of yore
and quickly would change place
with anyone of days gone by,
a smile on their face.

As for others we must take
whatever comes our way
and if the pace be fast or slow
we sidestep day by day.

As for music it portrays
rhythm in a song.
Every rhythm has a mood
living or long gone.

Rhythm that’s exciting,
rhythms that are slow,
sound and motion pulse as one
or sometimes separate go.

Music has a rhythm
varied it is true
or sometimes just the drums
show what they can do.

Dancing has a rhythm
of motion sought in space
with many varied patterns
that surge and then abate.

In some ancient countries
a simple melody
has many variations
in its harmony.

They feel a simple tune
changes thru the day
and morning songs and evening songs
are different that they play.

They have religious dancing
and each gesture tells
a story from the sacred book
that they know so well.

And rhythm of the drums at night
sends an urgent call
telling God his people
remember he’s their all.

On and on thru darkness
players take their stand
and call upon their Master,
his soul be at hand.

Praying for redemption,
pray for inner light,
immediate salvation
ceaseless thru the night.

And maybe in the cosmic dance
containing earth and sky
we feel the pulsing of the world
as ever time goes by.

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Stroll Thru a Supermarket
Let us take a little walk
thru shelves and shelves stacked high
and see what things among them
we’ll try not to buy.

Margarine’s not bad it seems
tho some is more than others.
In fact you may find 1 or 2
just has high as butter.

Eggs are inexpensive
considering that the hen
must lay them one by one
and lay them yet again.

Powdered mile seems higher
than the liquid kind
and if you buy a large one
you must a fortune fine.

When you get down to cheese
you could give a little groan –
how could so little cost so much –
everything you own.

Cold cereal is another one
that certainly isn’t cheap
but if you do not get it
what will the children eat.

And radishes and onions
and a lot of salad things
and bowls of alfalfa
leave you wondering.

Close by is granola
and many mixtures too
of cocoanut and seeds
that don’t appeal to you.

The little Florida oranges
jumping from the tree
right into my shopping cart
and smiling up at me.

Turning now to fish and meat
you brace yourself once more.
Try not, with furrowed forehead
to faint upon the floor.

It is most exasperating
to try halfway to eat
when you see the prices
of a pound of meat.

I have seen some people
actually start to weep
while hanging to the counter
in a dismal heap.

There seems to be no leeway
for having meat for meals.
You just have to pay the price
this satisfaction yields.

Fish is just about the most
expensive thing to buy.
I think they’re getting scarcer
and that's why they’re so high.

The question now is different
than in Shakespeare's time –
“To eat or not to eat” –
is an appropriate rhyme.

Bread is not the same
and you will often find
bread marked down half price
to ease your state of mind.

When it comes to flour
and kernel-less corn meal
it lasts a while upon the shelf
but nutrition steals.

Now as you spy the chocolate drops
they're worth their weight in gold
but all these growing prices
never were foretold.

If you decide to bake, you find
it's less than buying cakes
but don't add nuts or raisins
or chocolate when you bake.

A pound of raisins is so high
we wonder it could be
that only several years ago
we used them generously.

A thing like this I always find
I can do without
and so I leave them sitting
upon the grocery shelf.

And as I bake I meditate
upon the cost of each
and as I reach for cinnamon
I give a little squeak.

It certainly hurts to use a thing
we once took quite for granted,
and a fellow said to me
he had some he'd just planted.

Plain old baking soda
still may be a buy
but since the ads on TV
it went up rather high.

Salt's another thing
we cannot do without
and these tiny price tags
make you want to shout.

Oil is a different thing
and prices hit the sky.
Do we really need it
or can we just get by?

If you want 3 pounds of coffee
be prepared to bring
your savings and your bank book
for this sought-after thing.

Perhaps you'd like to buy a towel
or wash cloth or two
but when you see the price
the ones at home will do.

The bars of soap are not much more
that they were before
and if you really try
you may buy 3 or 4.

Bleach is necessary
to get the washing clean
but it is now so weak
there's not much point it seems.

And tho you oft expect
the store to be quite bare,
it surprises once again
that there are people there.

At the check-out counter
as you wait in line
you worry if your money
will get you out this time.

I have wondered many times
of arguments at home
but I've not heard of one divorce
that soaring prices owned.

Evidently somehow
the people still go on
and meet the situation
with vigor if not song.

And we can hope that sometime
food will be within our reach
and we can all eat famously
and still our money keep.

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WWII
The war for us was saving scraps,
aluminum foil we found,
mostly on the chewing gum
but candy too no doubt.

We pressed it in a shiny ball
till it was fairly large
and turned it in for planes
they needed in the war.

Metal scraps they needed too
and sometimes in our wagon
we took what Daddy said we could
to help the war be won.

They told us in assembly
at our school one day
that war had been declared –
it never was the same.

And while no change was made
in home or church or school
it was the atmosphere
of silence as a rule.

No one asked us what we thought
or said a single thing
or asked us any questions
or anything explained.

An atmosphere of silence
pervaded every place
and while life seemed as usual
no consciousness escaped.

It seemed it was in every thought
but no one said a thing,
always in the air
but life was much the same.

The rationing stamps were something new
for meat and sugar, shoes,
and women oft exchanged them
for something they could use.

Later on one summer
we children gave a play.
Tickets were 5 cents
and $2.50 raised.
We gave it to the USO
for soldiers overseas
and I received a postcard
kindly thanking me.

To thank us for so little
when we were so young
in the middle of a war
amazed me as has none.

I still have the little card,
the wonder of it kept
and tho the years went by
never did forget.

And walking down the street
easily could be seen
the stars hung in the windows
who died on battlefield.

Sometimes there were 2
for sons that then were gone,
who lost their lives so young
to right a terrible wrong.

And in the postal station
staring from the wall
a sign Loose Lips Sink Ships –
that was all.

Sometimes at the movies
we would see a short
of a battlefield
or something of the war.

The battles after D-day
were in the daily press
with arrows crossing France
and troops put out their best.

I remember too
when Roosevelt did die.
We were sitting ‘round the room,
the family and I.

Suddenly the program
and radio did stop
and we held our breath
and kept our little spot.

“We interrupt this program…
our hearts will filled with lead…
to announce the president
of the United States is dead.”

Mem’ries of a child
mem’ries of the young,
yet I know that silence
when warfare was begun.

Something in the air,
above all daily care,
yet not a word was spoken
of war that’s over there.

And at the stadium
while the anthem played
the men took off their hats
and on their hearts did place.

It always seemed to mean so much
and yet we never knew
just what they might be thinking
or ever asked them to.

Silence seemed to cross the land
in one unspoken word.
All the thoughts upon it
yet not a thing was heard.

If something meant a lot to them
they kept it to themselves,
not only to protect a life
but how they thought as well.

I feel sorry for the young
who may never know
a country that was one
in sinew, heart and soul.

But tho our efforts were the best
it broke up past the war
and each went on his way again
heedless of before.

And how it ends we do not know
or maybe want to say,
but I saw a greatness there
and then it went away.

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