Poems by Tammy

BLESSED
         

 By: 

Tammy L. Lawson

  A friend and I were standing in line at the grocery store the other day,
and I was telling her how lazy my children are.  I had come in from work
that morning and, like most times, my house was wrecked.
  "I believe that children nowadays are just out for what they can get.  I 
bend over backwards for them and they can't even keep my home clean.  It
wouldn't bother me so much but it's the woman who looks bad when the house
is a mess."
  "Do you know how blessed you are," a woman behind us asked.  "I would love
to go home and find my house a mess.  I wouldn't mind the carpet being ruined
or dishes left everywhere.  I wouldn't mind the dirty clothes being piled high
or the many socks to match.  I wouldn't even mind anyone talking about my dirty
home.  Matter of fact, I would love it.  I would dearly love to kick my way through
the house just to get to my kids and be able to hug them, kiss them and tell them
how much I love them.  You see, my two children were killed in an auto accident
and now it's just my husband and me.  My house stays clean, my clothes stay put up,
the dishes are done.  There are no fingerprints on my walls, no mysterious spots on
my carpets.  There are no sounds of arguing, no slamming doors, no laughter, no "I
love you mom."  So, you see, you are very blessed.  What I would give to be going through
what you are now.  How I would love to be able to hold my kids, wipe away their tears,
share their dreams, just to watch them play.  If I had my children, I wouldn't care
how my house looked.  I would be happy just to have them."
  Now, if you come into my home and see a big old mess, you can think bad thoughts
if you want, but I feel greatly blessed.

 

  DID YOU

Tammy L. Lawson

Did you thank the Lord tonight,
as you lay upon your in bed,
for the clothes upon your back
and the roof above your head?

And, as you awakened this morning,
to the dawn of early light,
and thank the Lord above
for keeping you safe all night?

Did you thank Him for your job,
that helps you pay the bills,
or for the  food within your pantry
and for your daily meals?

Did you hug and kiss your children,
as they came rushing in,
thanking the Lord above
for bringing them safely home again?

Did you smile at your partner,
telling them what they mean to you
praising God once more,
for giving you one so true.

Or did you just forget
who helps you along your way,
taking everything  for granted
you may not have another day.
           

 

  Unknown Soldier

Tammy L. Lawson

The United States, full of beauty , love and pride,
to keep it this way, many a soldier has died.
When other Nations try to take our land,
that's when the American soldier takes his stand.

During all our wars, it was our soldiers who lost,
and many a soldier died, that was our cost.
Many lost their ID's when their lives couldn't be saved,
now the unknown soldier, sleeps in an unmarked grave.

Unknown soldier in the dark ground so deep,
with an unmarked marker at your head and feet.
Your name is unknown, your face unknown, too,
but we Americans, we everyone thank you.
Thank you for your courage and and thank you for your pride,
For the United States People, those of us for whom you died.
 

 

Cruel Trick

Tammy L. Lawson

You came up and pulled me into your loving embrace,
your hands over my body did trace.
Your lips met mine and my heart did soar,
at your words "It won't be like it was before."
"We'll make a new start," you whispered to me,
"I'll be a one woman man, you'll see"

Then I laughed and cried, as we made love all day,
we picked and carried on like two kids at play.
Then, in the end, we held each other so deep,
together, locked in passion, we drifted off to sleep.

I awakened to the morning's dim light,
rolled over to caress you, just like I did last night.
Then I realized it had only been a lie,
just a cruel dream, and I began to cry.
I cried for a dream that truly made me see,
how much I still want you, and for you to want me.
 

 

Just Believe

Tammy L. Lawson

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there I do not sleep.
I'm in Heaven now, at my Master's side,
I'm alive you see,  only my body died.

I'm in a land where suffering is no more,
I'm in Heaven where I'm free to soar.
I've seen the towers that shimmer, like starlight upon the grass,
I've seen loved ones long since past.

I have felt my Savior's nail print hands,
at last I'm in my Father's land.
I have touched my master's face,
and I have felt his loving grace.

So do not stand at my grave and grieve,
I am not there, Just believe.
  

 

 

Life is a Symphony

by

Bill MacWithey

 

Life is but a symphony, ringing us into the hall of life.

The metronome of time beats out the rhythm,

The rhythm of our lives,

The rhythm of the symphony we are.  

The music begins, played Forte all the way,

Then slows to a pianissimo.

But, all too soon, the adagio fades,

And the melody we were softens to but a memory.

We are left as a tiny note upon the pages of music past,

Never to be played again.

 

 

The Shack Out Back

by Bill MacWithey

I remember with love the shack of a place,

With the outside well to wash a dirty face,

It sat but a spit from the railroad track,

And catalogue storage set far to the back.

 When the rains flooded things,

And the water knee deep,

That’s when you needed it worst,

So through the back yard debris you’d creep.

 

Now, it wasn’t to read that you’d journey so,

But to ease the need, well... you know.

In summer the aroma was enough to kill a bear,

But some of my best memories echo from there.

 

All by yourself, to think and to ponder,

That the smell made you dream, was it any wonder?

So now, as I sit and read the front page,

I smile that indoor toilets are all the rage.

 

‘Course, other things have changed, as well,

There’s tissue to replace the catalogue,

And you flush away the smell.

 

But what can you read on a roll of the white,

No fancy clothes, no toys to a young boy’s delight.

No latest in modern day stuff you don’t have,

Not even an ad for Watkins healing salve.

 

So let me advise, take a book along,

For tissue’s not a dream maker,

And dreaming is harder, as you sit on the can,

If you don’t have a Sears Roebuck catalogue in hand.

 

 

 

The Dark Horse