Field of Life

A stretching field of golden grass
Golden, like a bell of brass
Shrubs and bushes here and there
Scattered as if were no care
The bushes are of different heights
Different colors, different mights
Some are strong are some are weak
Some are proud and some are meek
Winds and storms do often come
And break a branch of fragile ones
And sometimes in the moonlight black
Or maybe day is seen a sack
Within the hands of tall a man
Who comes and gathers what he can
He brings them to the place he lives
A very cautious look he gives
For if the bush is small and thin
The fireplace is where it’s in
But if the wood is fine and thick
He’ll make a sturdy walking stick
Or sometimes if the mood is good
He’ll take the little piece of wood
And carve a gorgeous thing to place
Upon his shelf and by his vase
He keeps this field with bursting pride
He watches out as days go by
To see that only he will trim
To make the bushes grow for him
Oh, there are some who do stand tall
And hardly need a trim at all
But some are stray and tangled round
And laying flat along the ground
For these he gives a sigh of grief
He knows that it has been a thief
The bushes can ignore the tools
Used by these unruly fools
They think it’s easier to lay
And not their springing roots obey
Forever here they lay to rest
He knows they could have been the best


Too Late

Standing here quietly
Waiting in line
Thousands in front of me
Thousands behind

Just then I look over
And see such a crowd
Of crying sad people
They’re wailing so loud

I tap on the shoulder
Of him before me
And ask why those people
Are there that I see

With coldness and sorrow
He tells me their fate
Those are the people
Who found out too late

Too late to be saved
Too late to have life
They’ll now live forever
In hell in their strife

Compassion within me
I look at the crowd
I now see their faces
The meek and the proud

But wait, in the middle
Oh no, could it be?
A person I know
I barely can see

He comes towards the edge
And meets eye to eye
A shiver comes over
And I start to cry

My grandpa is standing there
Tears in his eyes
I cannot quite hear him
But know he yells “why?”

I knew the truth
And never told him
I thought it too silly
To tell him of sin

And now I see more
My aunt and my friend
My cousin, my brother
Oh when will it end?

My eyes are now opened
And I look to see
The whole wailing crowd
Is looking at me

I know every one
And yet didn’t tell
These small yearning souls
About God and Hell

What was I thinking?
God sent them my way
For them to be saved
I didn’t obey

And now it’s too late
Too late to go back
And redo mistakes
And fix what I’ve lacked

The thought burns within me
And forever will
As I’ll live in joy
And they’ll die in Hell.


My Grave

Don’t ever anyone cry o’r my grave
Your tears will just water the grass
Read through my poems and remember my smile
These are the things that will last

Remember my laughter, remember my voice
But don’t ever cry o’r my grave
For I am not there – not under the soil
In heaven I am – for I’m saved


Master Librarian

Rows of books along a wall
Lay in a room so bright
Each one labeled by its name
Readable by sight

The man in charge now pulls one out
And read a line or two
Shakes his head and puts it back
He knows it will not do

One by one he reads them all
And has to shed a tear
Each book is not ready yet
Not even one is near

Then he sees a little book
Which he must have passed
The date reveals it’s very new
And yet it’s built to last

A smile shows on the man in charge
His heart still filled with grief
So many books just sitting here
So many more he needs

The searching goes without a rest
Until the day is through
What will happen when he picks
The book that’s labeled “You?”


God Does Know What He’s Doing

God puts you through problems
To make you grow stronger
And draw you much closer
To help you live longer

You don’t understand it
“Why” you may ask
But when you look back
You see he’s done best

Crying sometimes
And bitter you get
But God is almighty
So don’t get mad yet

He really does spank us
And takes things away
To keep us in line
And to make us obey

God knows what he’s doing
The lesson is told
Believe it and live it
Engrave it in stone

Follow his way
Cuz he’ll lead you home
He really does love us
He really does know

 


God’s Empty Page

O Lord, my life’s an open page
On which you write to fill
Using your omniscient mind
You neatly write your will

You started when I first was born
And wrote on through the years
Copied every part of me
My joy and pain and fears

Sometimes I tried to take the pen
Out from your mighty hand
To write the things I wanted when
I did not understand

But you knew what was best for me
And wrote the trials right in
Making sure you stood quite close
To keep me from the sin

So far the page is neatly done
But I must keep in mind
That one small blot will wreck my life
Then peace I’ll never find

So Lord, upon my open page
I’ll let you write and fill
Whatever joys or trials I need
To keep me in your will