Category Archives: Poems

Poems for the Fourth of July

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The Old Flag

By H.C. Bunner

Off with your hat as the flag goes by!
And let the heart have it say;
You’re man enough for a tear in your eye
That you will never wipe away.
You’re man enough for a thrill that goes
To your very finger-tips–
Ay! the lump just then in your throat that rose
Spoke more than your parted lips.
Lift up the boy on your shoulder high,
And show him the faded shred;
Those stripes would be red as the sunset sky
If death could have dyed them red.
Off with your hat as the flag goes by!
Uncover the youngster’s head;
Teach him to hold it holy and high
For the sake of its sacred dead.

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A Patriotic Creed

By Edgar Guest

To serve my country day by day
At any humble post I may;
To honor and respect her flag,
To live the traits of which I brag;
To be American in deed
As well as in my printed creed.

To stand for truth and honest toil,
To till my little patch of soil,
And keep in mind the debt I owe
To them who died that I might know
My country, prosperous and free,
And passed this heritage to me.

I always must in trouble’s hour
Be guided by the men in power;
For God and country I must live,
My best for God and country give;
No act of mine that men may scan
Must shame the name American.

To do my best and play my part,
American in mind and heart;
To serve the flag and bravely stand
To guard the glory of my land;
To be American in deed:
God grant me strength to keep this creed!

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A Patriotic Wish

By Edgar Guest

I’d like to be the sort of man the flag could boast about;
I’d like to be the sort of man it cannot live without;
I’d like to be the type of man
That really is American:
The head-erect and shoulders-square,
Clean-minded fellow, just and fair,
That all men picture when they see
The glorious banner of the free.

I’d like to be the sort of man the flag now typifies,
The kind of man we really want the flag to symbolize;
The loyal brother to a trust,
The big, unselfish soul and just,
The friend of every man oppressed,
The strong support of all that’s best,
The sturdy chap the banner’s meant,
Where’er it flies, to represent.

I’d like to be the sort of man the flag’s supposed to mean,
The man that all in fancy see wherever it is seen,
The chap that’s ready for a fight
Whenever there’s a wrong to right,
The friend in every time of need,
The doer of the daring deed,
The clean and generous handed man
That is a real American.

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The following isn’t a poem but rather a reading of the Pledge of Allegiance with explanations along the way by Red Skelton:

Red Skelton’s Commentary on the U.S. Pledge of Allegiance

As a schoolboy in Vincennes, Indiana, one of Red Skelton’s teachers explained the words and meaning of the Pledge of Allegiance to his class. Skelton later wrote down, and eventually recorded, his recollection of this lecture. It is followed by an observation of his own.

I: Me; an individual; a committee of one.

Pledge: Dedicate all of my worldly goods to give without self-pity.

Allegiance: My love and my devotion.

To the Flag: Our standard; Old Glory ; a symbol of courage; and wherever she waves there is respect, because your loyalty has given her a dignity that shouts, “Freedom is everybody’s job.”

Of the United: That means that we have all come together.

States: Individual communities that have united into forty-eight great states. Forty-eight individual communities with pride and dignity and purpose. All divided by imaginary boundaries, yet united to a common cause, and that is love of country… of America.

And to the Republic: Republic–a sovereign state in which power is invested in representatives chosen by the people to govern. And government is the people; and it’s from the people to the leaders, not from the leaders to the people.

For Which It Stands

One Nation: meaning, so blessed by God.

Indivisible: Incapable of being divided.

With Liberty: Which is Freedom; the right of power for one to live his own life, without fears, threats, or any sort of retaliation.

And Justice: The principle, and qualities, of dealing fairly with others.

For All: That means it’s as much your country as it is mine.

Since I was a small boy, two states have been added to our country, and two words have been added to the Pledge of Allegiance: “Under God.” Wouldn’t it be a pity if someone said that is a prayer, and that would be eliminated from schools, too?

— Red Skelton
1913-1997

—Read on the “Red Skelton Hour”
January 14, 1969

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Other Interesting Reading:
“Remembering the Fourth of July” by David Barton (have to scroll down to this part of the article).

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(Bottom graphic courtesy of Anne’s Place. I am not sure where the others came from.) 


The Barefoot Boy

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Oh for boyhood’s time of June,
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw,
Me, their master, waited for.
I was rich in flowers and trees,
Humming-birds and honey-bees;
For my sport the squirrel played,
Plied the snouted mole his spade;
For my taste the blackberry cone
Purpled over hedge and stone;
Laughed the brook for my delight
Through the day and through the night,
Whispering at the garden wall,
Talked with me from fall to fall;
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
Mine the walnut slopes beyond,
Mine, on bending orchard trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Still as my horizon grew,
Larger grew my riches too;
All the world I saw or knew
Seemed a complex Chinese toy,
Fashioned for a barefoot boy!

From The Barefoot Boy by John Greenleaf Whittier (1855)

The picture is Boy and Dog in Nature by Eugene Iverd, from AllPosters.com.

One of my favorite poems for Father’s Day

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Only a Dad

By Edgar Albert Guest

Only a dad with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame
To show how well he has played the game;
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come and to hear his voice.

 Only a dad with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.

 Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd,
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.

 Only a dad but he gives his all,
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
Only a dad, but the best of men.

Flag Day

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Our Duty to Our Flag

by Edgar Guest

Less hate and greed
Is what we need
And more of service true;
More men to love
The flag above
And keep it first in view.

Less boast and brag
About the flag,
More faith in what it means;
More heads erect,
More self-respect,
Less talk of war machines.

The time to fight
To keep it bright
Is not along the way,
Nor ‘cross the foam,
But here at home
Within ourselves today.

‘Tis we must love
That flag above
With all our might and main;
For from our hands,
Not distant lands,
Shall come dishonor’s stain.

If that flag be
Dishonored, we
Have done it, not the foe;
If it shall fall
We first of all
Shall be to strike a blow.

(Graphic courtesy of Home Sweet Home Graphics)

A few poems for Father’s Day

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FATHER

Out in the morning Father goes,
Whether it pours with rain or snows,
Whether the wild wind beats and blows:–
By the fire sit Mother and I
Doing our lessons quietly.
Back in the twilight Father comes,
When I’ve finished with books and sums.
Not all the noise of all the drums
Is a jollier noise, I know,
Than Father when he says, “Hallo!”

~Author Unknown~

Be kind to thy father, for when thou wert young,
Who loved thee so fondly as he?
He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue,
And joined in thy innocent glee.
~ Margaret Courtney

Two Prayers

Last night my little boy confessed to me
Some childish wrong;
And kneeling at my knee
He prayed with tears–
Dear God, make me a man
Like Daddy–wise and strong;
I know you can.
Then while he slept
I knelt beside his bed,
Confessed my sins,
And prayed with low-bowed head.
O God, make me a child
Like my child here–
Pure, guileless,
Trusting Thee with faith sincere.

~ Andrew Gillies

(The beautiful graphics are courtesy of Snapshots of Joy.) 

Ode to a summer cold…

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To the tune of “Do Your Ears Hang Low?”

Oh, my nose, it runs
At most inconvenient times
Leaving overflowing trash cans
Filled with tissues full of slime.
It’s become a drip-o-matic.
My condition still is static!
Oh, my nose, it runs.

Oh, my head is filled
With such pressures in my sinus
And such fogginess of brain.
And my energy is minus.
Who’d have thought a simple head cold
Could cause scheduling to implode?
I’m ready for a nap.

An original composition.

My Advocate

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My Advocate

I sinned. And straightway, post-haste, Satan flew
Before the presence of the most high God,
And made a railing accusation there.
He said, “This soul, this thing of clay and sod,
Has sinned. ‘Tis true that he has named Thy name,
But I demand his death, for Thou hast said,
‘The soul that sinneth, it shall die.’
Shall not Thy sentence be fulfilled?
Is justice dead?
Send now this wretched sinner to his doom.
What other thing can righteous ruler do?”
And thus he did accuse me day and night,
And every word he spoke, O God, was true!

Then quickly One rose up from God’s right hand,
Before Whose glory angels veiled their eyes.
He spoke, “Each jot and tittle of the law
Must be fulfilled; the guilty sinner dies!
But wait — suppose his guilt were all transferred
To Me, and that I paid his penalty!
Behold My hands, My side, My feet! One day
I was made sin for him, and died that he
Might be presented, faultless, at Thy throne!”
And Satan flew away. Full well he knew
That he could not prevail against such love,
For every word my dear Lord spoke was true!

— Martha Snell Nicholson

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(Photo courtesy of everystockphoto)

(You can read more of Mrs. Nicholson’s poetry here.) 

A few poems for Mother’s Day

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I have several poems in my files about mothers. With Mother’s Day coming up I thought I’d post a few of them here.

This first one was written by Amy Carmichael. I had mentioned Amy Carmichael a few months ago, who, though she had
no children of her own, had a mother’s heart for the ones in the orphanages God used her to start to rescue children from being sold into a life of evil in India. This poem has been a blessing to me in thinking of and praying for my own children.

Father, hear us, we are praying,
Hear the words our hearts are saying,
We are praying for our children.

Keep them from the powers of evil,
From the secret, hidden peril,
Father, hear us for our children.

From the whirlpool that would suck them,
From the treacherous quicksand, pluck them,
Father, hear us for our children.

From the worldling’s hollow gladness,
From the sting of faithless sadness,
Father. Father, keep our children

Through life’s troubled waters steer them,
Through life’s bitter battle cheer them,
Father, Father, be thou near them.

Read the language of our longing,
Read the wordless pleading thronging,
Holy Father, for our children.

And wherever they may bide,
Lead them home at eventide.

This one was an encouragement to me that I could pray along the way when it seemed there wasn’t much time to get alone and pray when children were small.

The while she darns her children’s socks
She prays for little stumbling feet.
Each folded pair within its box
Fits faith’s bright sandals, sure and fleet.

While washing out, with mother pains,
Small dusty suits and socks and slips,
She prays that God may cleanse the stains
From little hearts and hands and lips.

And when she breaks the fragrant bread
Or pours each portion in its cup,
For grace to keep their spirits fed,
Her mother-heart is lifted up!

Oh, busy ones, whose souls grow faint
Whose tasks seem longer than the day,
It doesn’t take a cloistered saint
To find a little time to pray!

–Author unknown

The following captures something I prayed for often — patience, kindness, gentleness.

Father in Heaven, make me wise,
So that my gaze may never meet
A question in my children’s eyes;
God keep me always kind and sweet.

And patient, too, before their need;
Let each vexation know its place,
Let gentleness be all my creed,
Let laughter live upon my face!

A mother’s day is very long,
There are so many things to do!
But never let me lose my song
Before the hardest day is through.

– Margaret E. Sangster

This one reminds me of my blessings.

Dear Lord, it’s such a hectic day
With little time to stop and pray,
For life’s been anything but calm
Since You called on me to be a mom.

Running errands, matching socks,
Building dreams with building blocks,
Cooking, cleaning, and finding shoes
And other stuff that children lose.

Fitting lids on bottles of bugs,
Wiping tears and giving hugs,
A stack of last weeks mail to read,
So, where’s the quiet time I need?

Yet when I steal a minute, Lord
Just at the sink or ironing board,
To ask the blessings of Your grace
I see then, in my small one’s face
That you have blessed me
All the while….
And I stop to kiss
That precious smile.

— Author unknown

I have many more but I don’t want to overwhelm anyone. 🙂  I may post a few more later, or I may save some for next year. Hope you enjoyed them. 🙂

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Mother Sewing by Mary Cassatt

Courtesy of AllPosters.com 

An April Day

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Spring

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.

—Robert Frost

The past few April days have felt more like the middle of March…or even February!

The yard sale went well, though not quite as well as I’d hoped. I made about $100, Jesse made $20-something. I had come all set up for sitting in the sun, wearing a lightweight dress and having brought sunscreen — but we were freezing! We boxed up what we didn’t sell and are thinking about having another yard sale later on after we have a chance to sort through the attic. Or we might just give it all to Salvation Army — by the time you itemize it and get a receipt so you can claim it on your taxes, I think you probably come out about the same.

I thought families with boys would snap up some of the toys Jesse was selling, but I kept hearing parents say things like, “You have enough toys!” I understand that feeling, too! It’s funny what we get sentimental about — Jesse had about four “army sets” as we called them. One of them looked like a big tank from the outside but folded out into a flat playset for army men and Hot Wheels type tanks, etc., with little hills, turrets, roads, etc. He spent so many hours playing with those spread out all over the living room floor. I thought about saving them for grandkids some day — they are just neat play sets that I don’t think anyone makes any more, plus one day they might think it is neat to play with something that was their dad’s. But I was torn, so I didn’t say anything. Only one sold at first, so I thought we might get to keep the rest. But the last three sold in the last 15 minutes. 😦  Oh, well — I try to remind myself they are just things and hang on to the memories. One friend said it signified “the end of an era,” and I guess that’s part of it — knowing that my youngest is growing out of favorite toys.

I wrestle some times with saving for posterity vs. keeping sentimental things.  We really don’t have much in the way of mementos from either side of our family, and I’d like to keep some special things for posterity. But I try not to keep anything that I don’t really think anyone will be interested in or that might break down over time — I figure it would be better for someone to go ahead and enjoy that now, so I give it away. And I remember my kids weren’t much interested in boxes of faded old toys at grandparents’ houses, so I only keep things in great condition that might be timeless in its appeal.

The fellowship also went well. There were a few less than usual, but it was “cozy.” I think our new youth pastor is doing a great job with the kids. His new wife was away for the weekend, and I had been looking forward to having her over, so I was a little disappointed there, but my friend Carol came over for a little while — she teaches first grade and usually just hangs out in her classroom while her kids are at fellowships since she lives too far to make it worth going home and coming back in that time period, so I told her she was welcome to come if she wanted to. So it was good to “visit” a little. 🙂 Before she became a teacher here we used to volunteer once a week at the school, and I really enjoyed working with her and getting to know her — I’ve missed our visits!

I told myself with all the busy-ness of the last week that I was giving myself today “off,” so I am sitting back enjoying my nice clean house and catching up on e-mail and blog-reading. While I was in the shower I was looking at the freshly-painted ceiling and thinking, “We ought to have people over more often!” Not for a while, though — we both need to recuperate! I wish Jim could have taken off today — I don’t know when he’s going to have time to do taxes.

I usually keep up pretty well with the regular weekly housework — meals, dishes, laundry, bathrooms, floors, etc. — and an almost-weekly “extra” job thanks to tackle-it-Tuesday. But somehow I need to incorporate some of the “extra” jobs into a regular routine so we’re not having to catch up on everything before company comes. Yet I don’t like a real rigid system, like every first week of the month this and this are done, etc.

After I got out of the shower this morning, I started having pretty bad muscles spasms in my back. I don’t know if I wrenched something this morning or if this is the result of working the last few days. After an Absorbine Jr. patch, ibuprofen, and a heating pad I am able to move a little better (did you know that when you blow your nose you use muscles in your back? I never knew that until blowing my nose sent a spasm across my already-spasming back!) I guess it is a good thing I hadn’t planned anything for today!

Easter poem

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Tomb, thou shalt not hold Him longer;
Death is strong, but Life is stronger;
Stronger than the dark, the light;
Stronger than the wrong, the right;
Faith and Hope triumphant say
Christ will rise on Easter Day.

 

– Phillips Brooks, An Easter Carol

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