The Miracle

This poem was inspired during the oddest time, for I busy making supper, and certainly not feeling at all poetic.  However, trusting it was God-inspired, I quickly jotted down the gist of it, before I completely forgot it (not unusual for me).  Later I worked with it until this final version felt right.  This poem, at it's heart, is meant for and dedicated to a dear friend that I pray, if my gracious God has planned a healing miracle for me, I happily and willingly give it away...

Glory in the mountains,

marvels in the seas,

mysteries in the valleys

and hope in all of these.

Time journeys where it wants,

destiny designs a life,

with sorrows in the sojourn

and blessings in the strife.

Given choice for myself,

a healing will decide,

if thus is taken willingly

or joyously cast aside.

A miracle given to another,

whose need is greater still,

and in that very moment

confirmation of God's will.

I Wonder...

You know Lord

how I serve you 

with emotional fervor

in the limelight.

You know how eagerly

I speak for you

at the woman's club.

Or how I effervesce

when I promote a

fellowship group.

You know my enthusiasm

at bible study or choir.

But, how would I react,

I wonder...

if you pointed to a basin of water

and asked me to wash

the calloused, old feet

of a bent and wrinkled woman

day after day

month after month.

In a room where nobody saw

and nobody knew?

bjmorden

Lifetime Friendship...

We've ran the gamut,

faced the miles.

Fought our battles,

shared smiles.

Seen the sunset,

on those we loved.

Forged ahead,

dared to shove.

Lived our dreams,

divulged the truth.

Rejoiced together,

raised the roof.

Bought a future,

on borrowed time.

Built the impossible,

and made it shine.

bjmorden

When I get to Heaven...



I shall pick flowers of all kinds

out of other people's gardens,

and no one will mind.

I shall gather dust motes

in pillowcases and spread

them in clean places.

I shall spend my days

crocheting snowflakes and

knitting angel wings.

When I get to Heaven I shall eat

Spam with barbecue chips,

on white bread.

I shall slurp my soup and blow

bubbles in my juice.

I shall wear sandals in Winter and

galoshes in Spring.

I shall sing glorious praises

that don't rhyme and

are off key.

I shall hear laughter, merriment

and joy.

When I get to Heaven I shall

borrow someones trumpet and

 join the choir.

I shall wash other's feet and

paint rainbows on their toenails.

But above all, when I get there

I shall kneel before the throne

with bowed head ,

in gratitude,

for all the love

given me;

before I ever got to Heaven.

bjmorden

From the Nursery to the Nursing Home...

Okay, I admit I like to write poetry!  I'm not particularly good at it and I'm certainly no threat to any prominent poet nor...

am I particularly deep, insightful (think Maya Angelou) or intuitive...but, I like to fool around with it now and then.  So, here goes...oh, but first...

General Disclaimer: The following was compiled for my own amusement during (un)reliable moments. It is for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to be taken seriously.

Jake & Jane

Jake & Jane

have brittle bones

barely can they use them.

While Jake does booze

Jane stays loose,

by using a jacuzzi.

Old Mrs Luffet

Old Mrs Luffet

told them to "stuff it!"

Refusing to eat her porridge

The nurse cried, "You'll eat it, or else

we'll force feed it!

Then order you another!"

Made of

What are old men made of?

Stories and mutts

and beer belly guts,

that's what old men are made of.

What are old women made of?

Cookies and pickles

and laughter that tickles,

that's what old women are made of.

Two Old Men

Two old men

sat by the fire

over a snifter of brandy;

Said one old man

to the other old man,

"If I must say, life is dandy!"

Nursing Home

They often sit and wish that they,

could leap right up, then fly away.

To ride upon the wings of hope

to live in dreams the angels wrote.

If they could see beyond this room

 filled with dark and dread and gloom.

Like birds, if they could take to flight

these wings would carry them from sight.

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Until we meet again...