On this page are other types of poems that were sent in my emails in 1998. Be sure to check out the other pages, for some funny stuff to read. Poems for Friends... Funny Stuff Kids Say... Funny Lists... Religious Jokes
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for my sanity to keep.
For if some peace I do not find,
I'm pretty sure I'll lose my mind.
I pray I find a little quiet,
Far from the daily family riot.
May I lie back -- not have to think
about what they've stuffed down the sink,
or who they're with, or where they're at
and what they're doing to the cat.
I pray for time all to myself,
(did something just fall off a shelf?)
To cuddle in my nice, soft bed,
(Oh no, another goldfish -- dead!)
Some silent moments for goodness sake,
(Did I just hear a window break?)
And that I need not cook or clean,
(well heck, I've got the right to dream.)
Yes, now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray my wits about me keep.
But as I look around I know,
I must have lost them long ago!
I was walking down life's highway a long time ago.
One day I saw a sign that read, "HEAVEN'S GROCERY STORE".
As I got a little closer the door came open wide,
and when I came to myself I was standing inside.
I saw a host of ANGELS. They were standing everywhere.
One handed me a basket and said, "My Child shop with care".
Everything a Christian needed was in that grocery store.
And all you couldn't carry, you could come back the next day for more.
First, I got some PATIENCE: LOVE was in the same row.
Further down was UNDERSTANDING: you need that everywhere you go.
I got a box or two of WISDOM, a bag or two of FAITH.
I just couldn't miss the HOLY GHOST, for it was all over the place.
I stopped to get some STRENGTH and COURAGE to help me run this race.
By then my basket was getting full, but I remembered I needed some GRACE.
I didn't forget SALVATION, for SALVATION was free,
so I tried to get enough of that to save both you and me.
Then I started up to the counter to pay my grocery bill,
for I thought I had everything to do the MASTER'S will.
As I went up the aisle, I saw PRAYER: and I just had to put that in,
for I knew when I stepped outside, I would run into sin.
PEACE AND JOY were plentiful; they were last on the shelf.
SONG and PRAISE were hanging near, so I just helped myself.
Then I said to the angel, "Now, how much do I owe?"
He smiled and said, "Just take them everywhere you go."
Again, I smiled and said, "How much do I really owe?"
He smiled again and said, "MY CHILD, JESUS PAID YOUR BILL A LONG, LONG TIME AGO."
"ALL THINGS WHATSOEVER YOU SHALL ASK IN PRAYER, BELIEVING, YOU SHALL RECEIVE." (MATTHEW 21:22)
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging me down.
And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"
In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.
But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose
And declared with overacted surprise,
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."
The weed before me was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need."
But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.
I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.
You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play,
Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.
I sat there and wondered how he managed to see
A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.
And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
And appreciate every second that's mine.
And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy,
Another weed in his hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.
A minister passing through his church
in the middle of the day,
Decided to pause by the altar
and see who had come to pray.
Just then the back door opened,
a man came down the aisle,
The minister frowned as he saw
the man hadn't shaved in a while.
His shirt was kinda shabby
and his coat was worn and frayed,
the man knelt, he bowed his head,
then rose and walked away.
In the days that followed,
each noon time came this chap,
each time he knelt just for a moment,
a lunch pail in his lap.
Well, the minister's suspicions grew,
with robbery a main fear,
He decided to stop the man and ask him,
"What are you doing here?"
The old man said, he worked down the road.
Lunch was half an hour.
Lunchtime was his prayer time,
for finding strength and power.
"I stay only moments, see,
because the factory is so far away;
as I kneel here talking to the Lord,
this is kinda what I say:
"I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD,
HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S FRIENDSHIP
AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.
DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY,
BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.
SO, JESUS, THIS IS JIM CHECKING IN."
The minister feeling foolish,
told Jim, that was fine.
He told the man he was welcome
to come and pray just anytime.
Time to go, Jim smiled, said
"Thanks." He hurried to the door.
The minister knelt at the altar,
he'd never done it before.
His cold heart melted, warmed with love,
and met with Jesus there.
As the tears flowed, in his heart,
he repeated old Jim's prayer:
"I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD,
HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S FRIENDSHIP
AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.
I DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY,
BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.
SO, JESUS, THIS IS ME CHECKING IN."
Past noon one day, the minister noticed
that old Jim hadn't come.
As more days passed without Jim,
he began to worry some.
At the factory, he asked about him,
learning he was ill.
The hospital staff was worried,
but he'd given them a thrill.
The week that Jim was with them
brought changes in the ward.
His smiles, a joy contagious.
Changed people were his reward.
The head nurse couldn't understand
why Jim was so glad,
when no flowers, calls or cards came,
not a visitor he had.
The minister stayed by his bed,
he voiced the nurse's concern:
No friends came to show they cared.
He had nowhere to turn.
Looking surprised, old Jim spoke up
and with a winsome smile;
"the nurse is wrong, she couldn't know,
that in here all the while
everyday at noon He's here,
a dear friend of mine, you see,
He sits right down, takes my hand,
leans over and says to me:
"I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, JIM,
HOW HAPPY I HAVE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND THIS FRIENDSHIP,
AND I TOOK AWAY YOUR SIN.
ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR YOU PRAY,
I THINK ABOUT YOU EACH DAY,
AND SO JIM, THIS IS JESUS CHECKING IN."
Wait...so hard to do.
And so hard to accept this answer sometimes.
Wait Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried
Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate,
And the Master so gently said, "Child, you must wait".
"Wait? You say, wait!" my indignant reply.
"Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is Your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By Faith, I have asked, and am claiming Your Word.
My future and all to which I can relate
hangs in the balance, and You tell me to Wait?
I'm needing a 'yes', a go-ahead sign,
or even a 'no' to which I can resign.
And Lord, I've been asking, and this is my cry:
I'm weary of asking! I need a reply!"
Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate
As my Master replied once again, "You must wait."
So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut
and grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting...for what?"
He seemed, then, to kneel, and His eyes wept with mine,
And He tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead, and cause mountains to run.
All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want -- but you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of My love for each saint;
You'd not know the power that I give to the faint;
You'd not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there'
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me
When darkness and silence were all you could see.
You'd never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove;
You'd know that I give and I save...(for a start)
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart.
The glow of My comfort late into the night,
The faith that I give when you walk without sight,
The depth that's beyond getting just what you asked
Of an infinite god, who makes what you have Last.
You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that "My grace is sufficient for Thee."
Yes, your dreams for your loved one overnight would come true,
But, Oh, the loss! If I lost what I'm doing in you!
So, be silent, My Child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to get to know Me.
And though oft' may My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still, "Wait.'" ~anonymous~
This is worth reading.
I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning ... to the end.
He noted that first came her date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years. (1900-1970)
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth...
And only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own;
The cars...the house...the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard...
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real,
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
And show our appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before
If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile...
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy's being read
With your life's actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash? --Author unknown
We sit and we type, and we stare at our screens
We all have to wonder, what this possibly means.
With our mouse we roam, through the rooms in a maze
Looking for something or someone, as we sit in a daze
We chat with each other, we type all our woes
Small groups we do form and gang up in our foes.
We wait for somebody, to type at our name
We want recognition, but it is always the same
We give kisses and hugs and sometimes flirt
In IMs we chat deeply, and reveal why we're hurt.
We do form friendships - but - why we don't know
But some of these friendships will flourish and grow.
Why is it on screen, we can be so bold
Telling our secrets, that we have never been told.
Why is it we share, the thoughts in our mind
With those we can't see, as though we are blind.
The answer is simple, it is as clear as a bell.
We all have our problems, and need someone to tell.
We can't tell real people, but tell someone we must
So we turn to the computer and to those we can trust.
Even though it is crazy, the truth still remains
They are Friends Without Faces with odd little names.
Take this week to have fun and be sure to let those friends without faces know how much you appreciate them. Happy online friendship week!!!!!!
There's something in a simple hug
That always warms the heart;
It welcomes us back home
And makes it easier to part.
A hug's a way to share the joy
And sad times we go through,
Or just a way for friends to say
They like you 'cause you're you.
Hugs are meant for anyone
For whom we really care,
From your grandma to your neighbor,
Or a cuddly teddy bear.
A hug is an amazing thing -
It's just the perfect way
To show the love we're feeling
But can't find the words to say.
It's funny how a little hug
Makes everyone feel good;
In every place and language,
It's always understood.
And hugs don't need new equipment,
Special batteries or parts -
Just open up your arms
And open up your hearts
The Master was searching for a vessel to use:
Before Him were many, which one would He choose?
"Take me," cried the gold one. "I'm shiny and bright; I'm of great value and I do things just right. My beauty and luster will outshine the rest, And for someone like you, Master, Gold would be best."
The Master passed on with no word at all, And looked at a silver urn, grand and tall. "I'll help you dear Master, I'll pour out your wine; I'll be on your table whenever you dine.
My lines are so graceful, my carving so true, And silver will always complement you."
Unheeding, the Master passed on to the brass, Wide-mouthed and shallow and polished like glass. "Here, here!" cried the vessel, "I know I will do; Place me on your table for all men to view."
"Look at me," called the goblet of crystal so clear, "My transparency shows my contents so dear. Though fragile am I, I will serve you with pride, And I'm sure I'll be happy in your house to abide."
Then the Master came next to a vessel of wood; Polished and carved, it solidly stood. "You may use me, dearest Master," the wooden bowl said. "But I'd rather you used me for fruit, not for bread."
Then the Master looked down and saw a vessel of clay. Empty and broken it helplessly lay. No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose, To cleanse, and make whole, to fill and to use.
"Ah! Now This is the vessel I've been hoping to find. I'll mend it and use it and make it all mine. I need not the vessel with pride of itself, Nor one that is narrow to sit on the shelf; Nor one that is big-mouthed and shallow and loud; Nor one that displays his contents so proud; Nor the one who thinks he can do things just right; But this plain earthen vessel filled with power and might."
Then gently He lifted the vessel of clay, Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day; Spoke to it kindly - "There's work you must do... Just pour out to others as I pour into you." B.V. Cornwall