God, Nature, nature, Poetry, Spreading God's Love, Trust

The Grandeur of Life

LandscapeA photograph may define
What man can barely see
The grandeur of creation
That sweeps from sea to sea.

As protegés they have no language
Nor tongues with which to impart
Yet each presupposes
The Master’s precious art.

In mountains there is splendor
From valley to mountain peak
With energy enough for sharing
With the depths of an ocean’s sweep.

While history’s lingering presence
Is allowed to have her sleep
Beneath the cool green surface
There burns a furnace at her feet.

Can compromise dare settle
The broadness of the breach
While the threat of death does simmer
Within the circle’s reach?

So must we search for light
To prepare for that great dawn
When life itself will come for perfection
To quell the circle’s brawn.

As symbols of life and love
They stand proud and ever strong
In patience they overcome
The problems that come along.

So follow the mountain’s grandeur
But live in the valley’s calm
Remembering the Savior’s message
To live for Him alone.

And when the furnace overflows
Fear not, for all is well
You found the light and lived within it
And thus avoided hell.

Yes, in mountains there is splendor
From valley to highest peak
In patience each will overcome
As with love the Savior seeks.


fun, Love, Philosophy, Poem, Uncategorized


Love is Trust

Forever and ever?
That’s a long while
What if we quarrel
And forget how to smile,
Then what if the moon
Halts in mid-flight
Thus ending time instead
Of saying good-night?
A lonely wolf would then howl
Beyond the black night
And I’d hide in fear
Because you’re out of sight.
These things may happen, you know?
But I’d still not be finished
With whispering sweet nothings
From my heart to yours.


Ghost Trees and Bullfrogs


–Marie Hunter Atwood

Ghost trees shiver
Under silent moving clouds
Creating quiet shadows
That jiggle under shrouds
‘Ole bullfrogs grump and bellow
Because they’re in the mood
to joust for juicy crickets
They’d like to have for food
Their silver tongues grow louder
As I tiptoe down the stairs
I ‘spect they’ve swallowed moonbeams
And ‘er a-chokin’ on ‘er seams
I haste to join the waiting fun
Of anticipation’s scary fare
But ‘sted their echoes greet me
Though I smell some gob-lin air.



Dawn waked quietly
As she spread her golden wings
And edged across a concave sky
To make a new day sing
Lazy shadows huddled ’round
Content to remain, quite clear
Yet willingly acquiesced
When urged with such bright cheer
Trees stretched, robins sang
And sparkling dew began to fade
Yet it all seemed well and proper
As darkness couldn’t play
So with the way prepared
The sun slid past the rim
And glorious light filled the sphere
As a new day echoed hymns

Thanks to my grandson, Jeremy Dodd, for furnishing the last line to this poem.




On Breaking Dawn