The Unborn

Something a little more serious...

This is to those who are not yet birthed,
   not yet able to stand.
This is to those who are not yet present,
   not yet able to choose.
This is to those who are the future,
   are the hope of our land.
This is to those who are held without rights,
   are destined the battle of life to lose.
This is to those for whom the barren hope,
   for whom the childless ache to hold.
This is to those who, for pleasure, have been wrought,
   for pure convenience, discarded.
This is to those who would have been the saviors of mankind,
   would have been the doctors to find the cures.
This is to those who would have been the heroes of our country,
   would have been the ones to give their lives.

This is to those thousands of unborn children,
   to those millions of knife-wounded hearts.
This is to those opportunities lost,
   to those little ones' aborted lives.

Beans and Cornbread

This one "came to me" tonight.

Beans and cornbread taste so good!
Beans and cornbread yes you should!
Beans and cornbread dig right in!
Beans and cornbread on your chin!
Beans and cornbread are so neat!
Beans and cornbread what a treat!
Beans and cornbread yum yum yum!
Beans and cornbread in your tum!

Now then, if you didn't read that in a sing-song-happy-thought-voice you have failed. Please try again.

The Lecture

During college, as a ministry student, I was required to attend a series of lectures every year. I was fortunate that I never happened to be taking classes that required me to write a paper over these lectures. Or perhaps it was unfortunate, since I then had no motivation to take notes. One year in particular, I doodled, invented a font for Elvish and wrote this limerick about two friends who were sitting next to me.

There once was a speaker that spoke.
He wasn't much like other folk.
     This saying was said
     By a guy named David
But Liz shushed him and gave him a poke.

Pat

I feel that it is appropriate to christen this blog with one of the first poems I ever wrote. It is a limerick I created in sixth grade for a school assignment. The limerick is my favorite type of poem. I love their bouncy feel and surprise endings.


There once was a young girl named Pat.
She would not wipe her feet on the mat.
     One day she came in
     And found she couldn't win
When she got mud all over her cat.