Quick Question


, ,

The thing that I would like to know
Is, “WHERE are the feral cats?”
Our mice are running rampant, so
Their hate songs I would love to hear:
I’d listen with envigored cheer—
Great work abounds for them right here;
Lord, please send us feral cats!
Our allergies will not allow
Adopting any cats in house,
But we need sharpened-claw-help now
Evicting the pesky mouse.
So, once again I’d like to ask,
Lord, WHERE are the feral cats?

by GwennonR
March 11, 2017

Maybe Later


, , ,

I will not kiss you on the lips:
Your lips have gone where I won’t go.
Your smile is very sweet and kind,
But germs I’m likely there to find
Since you’ve been cleaning your behind—
I’d love to kiss. BUT I’M NOT BLIND.
You need to find a cleaner thing
To which your tongue and lips may cling.
For kisses, you must bide your time:
I don’t kiss lips encased in grime.
Perhaps I might a kiss bequeath
If you would let me brush your teeth,
Soap down your tongue, and wash your face.
But kissing now? ‘Twould be disgrace!
For now, Dear Dog, you ought to know
I will not kiss you on the lips.

by GwennonR
March 10, 2017

for “Roosevelt”
the occasionally kissed German shepherd

Turn Around

My heart can do no more than sigh:
My problems stack up to the sky.
They fill my mind with fearful dread
So I can scarcely leave my bed.
But maybe I have failed to see
The blessings God has given me.
No stinky skunks perfume the air.
My mirror shows I still have hair.
The bugs and snakes remain outside.
No grizzly bears have come inside.
The trash I set outside is gone.
My faucets still turn water on.
The fridge contains some tasty food
To build good health – and boost my mood.
No airplanes fell to crush my home.
My dog makes sure I’m not alone.
I’m hearing music that I love
With scores of love notes from above.
I guess I should not be distraught:
I’m doing better than I thought.

by GwennonR
March 8, 2017

Not Here!


, ,

Not here, not here, My Precious Love.
My Precious Love has gone from here.
Not here, not here, My Precious Love.
I miss you so, My Dear.

I never got to see your face,
But loved you more than you can know.
I know that time cannot erase
The pain of parting so.

Now Jesus holds My Precious Love,
The Precious Love I longed to keep.
And He will keep you safe and well
As in my tears I steep.

I miss you so, My Precious Love:
My Precious Love who could not stay.
I’ll always love My Precious Love,
My Love who flew away.

My Baby Dear, so far from here,
So far from us whose hearts you hold,
Our precious sweet lost Baby Dear,
Your mem’ry won’t grow old.
Your mem’ry won’t grow old.

by GwennonR
February 14, 2017

For Tanya and Baby

The melody for this mourning song is a slight departure (really, mostly a rhythmic variation) from the tune for “In Christ Alone”. I pray my friend and her family can customize it and find comfort in Jesus as they meditate on this new treasure they have in heaven. Please feel free to pray for my friends. Thank you.

My Other Allegory

This is an amazing poem I hope you will all enjoy.

Mitch Teemley


It’s no vast wonder we should think

in metaphors

when life is just a parallel

to something more

Which lacking a more perfect word

we christen Life

and strain our undeveloped wings

in fervent strife

But ‘til the day that Life arrives

alive, complete

You’ll be my other allegory

all replete

with hopes that are enwrapped in mine

and thinking of

your face I’ll know that I have glimpsed

that thing called Love

⇔ ⇔

For Trudy

View original post

All Day Long!


, , ,

Ev’ry doggie needs a huggie!
Ev’ry doggie needs a kiss!
Ev’ry doggie needs to know
He is a treasure bringing bliss.
Ev’ry pet dog is a lovey,
Loving ev’ryone he knows.
Ev’ry pet dog brings great joy and gladness
Ev’rywhere he goes.
If you’re blessed to have a doggie,
Love him well right here and now,
And remember well this maxim:
Ev’ry doggie needs a huggie!

by GwennonR
February 7, 2017

for “Roosevelt”

“Doggie” spelled thus purposely.

I may use this in a collection of poems titled “SILLY DOG POEMS; and poems for a few serious dogs”.

If I told you my doggie-love was memorizing this poem, would you believe me?



, , , , ,

Be bigger in my eyes, Lord God:
Be bigger than my pains.
Be bigger than the sorrows
That have choked me with their chains.
Be bigger than my failures.
Be bigger than my wins.
Be bigger than the pleasures
I may find within my sins.
Be grander than my future.
Be better than my past.
Be bigger than the joys here
That we know can never last.
Be bigger than my nightmares.
Be bigger than my schemes.
Be bigger than the payoffs
In my fondest, best-loved dreams.
Be bigger than I’ve seen You:
More loving than I know.
Delight much more in my heart
Than the world I traipse below.
So let me see You bigger.
Thus let Your praises start.
And fill me with Your thoughts
Until they can’t stay in my heart.

by GwennonR
February 8, 2017



, , , , ,

I found my middle harp IN TUNE!
IN TUNE, although it weren’t before.
It captured me, requiring tunes
That could not be ignored.
My hands were captured by the strings
Surrounding all the notes I loved,
Compelled to pluck these lovely things,
Whose loveliness I proved.
Old melodies were there reborn:
Remade, relived, re-loved anew,
Erasing feelings low, forlorn,
As in new love I grew.
It must have been the good warm air
That warmed and then relaxed the strings,
That softened sharp notes into peace
And new enjoyment brings.
Whate’er the case, it was a gift
That blessed and beautified my harp,
That blessed my heart and made it shift
To take sweet joys to heart.
And Jesus is the giver here
Who loves to give a lovely gift,
Who loves to give His darlings cheer
And thus our spirits lift.
I thank Him for this gift today,
The gift I could not hope to find—
The gift whose presence made my day!
And praise this Friend so kind.

February 7, 2017

James 1:17 “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above ….”

For a contrast and an explanation of this poem,
please refer to my poem, “Harping”.



, ,

At the dental office, I found this partially started poem buried at the bottom of my purse and wondered if it somehow might be completed. God answered my unspoken prayer and gave me the last lines while I sat next to my daughter, who was having her teeth cleaned. Normally, I either read a magazine, or chat with the hygienist, sometimes both. But I think the hygienist we drew for this appointment may have been having a bad day, and neither my daughter nor I tried to start any conversations with her. Anyone who wants to pray for this hygienist is welcome to do so now. Maybe our prayers will bring God’s healing into her life.


Some days I wish that I could just erase
These problems that I never can outrun:
These things that would destroy, if not for grace.

I feel I have no courage now to face
The weary parts of life that are no fun.
Some days I wish that I could just erase—

Erase unwelcome trials that give me chase,
These things that leave me feeling so undone,
These things that would destroy, if not for grace.

While living in a broken, fallen place,
New pains and sorrows rise with each new sun.
Some days I wish that I could just erase

The pain and loss I wish not to embrace,
That catch me by surprise and my heart stun:
These things that would destroy, if not for grace.

Yet Jesus has a plan, and He can trace
Redemption through the things I find no fun.
Some days I wish, though, I could just erase
These things that would destroy, if not for grace.

by Gwennon
February 2, 2017

I Peter 5:7

The Only Explanation For The Overwhelming Debt Of The Unjust Servant


, , , ,

I had been pondering Jesus’ account of the unjust servant, who ended up owing his master more money than he could ever repay in several lifetimes. How was this even possible? Surely, masters were not in the habit of lending money to their inferiors. Especially large sums. Last week I spent part of a morning pondering this question, and at the gas station, the title and acrostic presented themselves, along with a couple of lines. More lines came as my errands progressed. Then, during dead time in a banking office, I retrieved my phone and began playing with the poem, adding a word here, and a line there, until, suddenly, surprisingly, the poem was done. This is always a happy surprise because about half of my acrostics never get beyond the initial idea or a few unconnected, unfinished lines. I hope you will enjoy this one.

The Only Explanation
For The Overwhelming Debt
Of the Unjust Servant

It’s the only thing that makes any sense:
Canny sovereigns do not lend money
At all to servants, however cunning,
Nor loans for which there is no recompense.
Common sense dictates this is just not done.
One road remains for such a debt to stand:
Methinks some treasure broke here by his hand.
Egregious, careless accident may run
Untold thousands in losses to his account:
Pitiable loss, turning gains to dust –
We do this every day to God’s good trust –
Impossible to repay this amount!
This broken trust demands a sacrifice:
How good that Jesus paid for us sin’s price!

by GwennonR
January 19, 2017