Murphy

One hundred pounds of pure joy,
this is Murphy, our alpha boy.
A toy for you, one for your brother,
you don't want yours,
you want the other.
Playing ball, like the Yankees do,
you may miss a catch or two.
A plastic bag means only one thing,
a treat for us that you did bring.
When you hand out the treat,
watch that you don't get knocked
off your feet.
Wet and sloppy the kisses never end,
he wants you to know you're his
best friend.
Sleeping in a king sized bed is
unsurpassed,
You're on your back,
four limbs in the air,
life is great, what do you care,
if there's any room left for
your loved one to share.

                                                             
                                                                             Smokey Mt. scene in oil    18x40

                                                      
                                                                               Pink Rose  in oil   16x20

                                                       
                                                                           Water Street in oil    16x20

                                                           
                                                                                       Reflections in oil 16x20 

                                                    
                                                                                  Tree Reflections  in oil  16x20

When Evening Comes

 
                                                   When Evening Comes

Evening comes slowly,
like a gator stalking its prey.
Sleep eludes me, and again,
I reach for my novel.
A morning mist hung
over the churning sea.
Only surfers braved the
rough waters.
Dolphin fins, like the surfers,
rose and fell.
This is the place she was last seen.
Frantically she screams for help.
I wake.
The novel drops to the floor.          

These Hands

    

                                                           These Hands 
No longer confined in the womb,
the small, pink, pudgy fingers,
open wide.
Loving hands caress and
lend support as first steps
are taken.
Blocks fly across the room,
like birds scattering seed.
As the bat swings the
umpire shouts "out".
The pencil seeks the answer
guided by firm fingers.
Hands holding hands,
he slips the ring on her finger,
and with loving hands he
takes her in his arms.
Years on manual labor
has taken its toil.
Worn and wrinkled,
they cover his heart, remembering
a fallen hero.

Everything Is Waiting for Him

      


                                  Everything Is Waiting For Him

The empty cross hangs around her neck,
she sits with a full cup of coffee,
deep in thought.
The dandelion snow is blown
forward,
and the birds are flying back south.
Rain is coming down before the
sun comes up.
Is it back or forward, up or down?
Empty or full?
His way leads forward, up and full.
Love the Lord with all your heart,.
Is Heaven up, hell down?
Down where or right here?
Love your enemies,
Heaven on earth!
Everything is waiting for him.


                                     

Yesterday

                                        Yesterday



Yesterday I was a child,
laughing, crying, running, playing,
dreaming life away.
Watching chariots of clouds racing overhead,
Looking for a rainbow
after rain was shed.
Growing taller by the day,
giving outgrown clothes away.
Yesterday I was a child.

Becoming a woman at long last,
yearning for arms to hold me fast,
promising to be yours.
Distressing birth brings much joy,
God has given us a boy.
Four more little ones
almost in a row;
Laughing, crying, running, falling
in the snow.
Where did the small child go?

Handbag Lament

                                                    Handbag Lament

I'm so full I just can't take this anymore.
Why do you burden me with all these things?
Candy wrappers galore,
Can't you find a trash can?
Three year old cough drops, you'd drop dead if you took one.
Enough kleenix to get a fire going
and warm you up.
The bottle of sanitizer I carry would kill the germs
of all our first graders.
You said I was the perfect size, not too large, not too small,
but you use me like I was a suitcase.
You'll never use all the coupons I hold,
most are expired.
Why the checkbook, you have all those credit cards.
What  am I anyway, a place for your coin collection?
And what's with all those many business cards, I've never
seen you do business with a tenth of those,
could there be some hanky panky going on?
Lipstick, nail file, hair brush, what a mess!
You're always wondering where that odor is coming from,
have you ever been to my bottom?
Give me a break!
And speaking of breaks
my shoulder strap has about had it,
then what becomes of me?
Will I go the way of your other bags and meet a
tragic end?

The Old Plank Door

                                          The Old Plank Door

Hanging by just one rusty hinge,
The old plank door lets the
bitter cold in.
For years its patina was a
beauty to view,
Time has cut its life askew.
Like the overgrown lawn
and grounds,
Years of wear have beaten it down.
It opened to greet the newlyweds,
and opened for many
Thanksgiving spreads.
It opened to welcome a new baby boy,
to children coming, full of joy.
It closed when sickness
came one day,
and when a loved one
passed away.
Its history you could
quickly perceive,
If you study the door before you leave.

The Rocking Chair

 

                                                  The Rocking Chair

The rocking chair moves
to and fro,
Her worn out feet push
oh so slow.
Gnarled hands lay at rest,
So many little ones they
have blessed.
Tears drop from large, sad eyes,
Memories consume the
old and wise.
Like the flower past its' bloom,
Her spirit lingers in the gloom.
All must die to live once more,
The rocker sets still on a
weatered floor.