Today I will not be presenting a new blog (which, in the chaotic lull between Christmas and New Year’s, no one will have time to read anyway). Instead, for your reading pleasure, I offer some original poems. (Yippee!) Hey, they are all short, and there is always an outside chance that you might find one of them mildly insightful or thought-provoking (or at least silly enough to laugh at).
Blithely we make New Year’s resolutions
which anticipate great revolutions
in our way of living.
And yet, unless the spirit deeply yearns,
we’re only like the earth that merely turns
round to its beginning.
Entering the cocoon,
the butterfly knows nothing of future beauty,
the promise already made.
She knows only blind obedience
to the irresistible call
of the One who knows the end from the beginning
because He planned it all.
The Written Record
We think we write in pencil,
not indelible ink,
unaware that we are not
the One who holds the eraser.
We think we will have a chance
to revise our record
before it is handed in to the Judge,
covering up the mistakes,
polishing the errors
till they shine,
unaware that the report has already been read,
the Judge not being bound by time.
In waiting rooms for any cause,
we slip into idle, neutral, pause.
We cannot think or read or write
throughout the day or through the night.
We cannot hold our hand or mind
to steady work of any kind,
distracted wait in wakeful snooze
to hear the good or dreaded news.
The Great Cat Race
The cats agreed to hold a race
to determine first and second place.
And so they all began to run
till charges sidelined all the fun.
“You’re a cheetah!” one cat cried.
“And you are lion!” he replied.
Though he ran till he was hot,
the leopard could not change his spot.
“The race is fixed!” he cried aloud,
his cries unheeded by the crowd.
A sleek gazelle then happened by
and quickly captured every eye.
“The gazelle is mine!” rang out the call—
the race collapsed into a brawl.