How Bright, How Bright can sunlight be?
That which, what warms the soul of me,
I stand alone on summer’s eve,
So undeserved, yet I receive!

Ope’ up, Ope’ up each window; door,
And, let the breeze of summer pour-
Upon your inner sanctum here,
Twill bring you joy; twill bring you cheer!

In three short months the fall wind brays,
Enjoy for now these summer days,
I thank the Lord for eyes to see,
How Bright, How Bright can sunlight be?

Peter Lowell Paulson
June 25, 2012

Always, Forever

My heart will subtly mummer still,
When you breathe softly in in my ear,
I lose control and all self-will,
Evolves to passion so sincere.


The chalk upon our canvas seen,
Quick drawn from moments in mid stride,
Are snapshots of a love serene,
But, not the passion deep inside.


And, still, and still our love burns wild,
Near wildfires on the prairies blaze
The grass consumed; no earth defiled,
Springs forth new love in wondrous phase.


At first the green; then flower shows,
And, soon soft summer meadows sigh,
Just as our love that ever grows,
Always, forever, you and I.


Peter Lowell Paulson
June 25, 2012

Your Beautiful Face

Oh, show us now your lovely face,
Now, this the one to us he’ll grace,
The same wee boy will ask for, “Trees!”
But, what he wants is, “Broccoli, Please!”

No scrape on toe, finger or leg,
But, for a Band-Aid he will beg,
Yes, one the colored, cartooned kind,
And place to wear it he will find.

He makes us laugh; he brings the smiles,
No matter what the daily trials,
How could we have a brighter day?
His baby brother’s on the way!

Peter Lowell Paulson
June 22, 2012

I Saw a Kite in Flight Today

I saw a kite in flight today,
Bright breeze; uplifted, and in play,
Drew breath of heav’n, as up it soared,
True happiness in life restored!

It is the simple thing we yearn,
True joy we as a child will learn,
The sour of life may quickly fade,
With lemons we make lemonade.

But now to make the acrid sweet,
Add honey from a bird’s trill tweet,
Outside with nature gaze and stare,
At every wonder; everywhere.

Just as today I saw a kite,
Blue skies beyond; its colors bright,
And, all small worries felt today,
Each seemed to simply melt away!

Peter Lowell Paulson
June 20, 2012

Penny the One-Fingered Pick Pocket

Penny the one-fingered pick pocket, he,
He’d say don’t feel sorry, not sorry for me,
If you have a donut and walk down my street,
Oh, it will be mine, yes; I’ll have a fine treat.

I'll nab one for breakfast; I'll nab one for lunch,
My favorite choc’late, and cinnamon crunch,
If they’re in a box, or a bakery sack,
I’ll slip in my finger; I’ll have a fine snack.

And, after a dinner of donuts with glaze,

It’s off to the candy store for one more craze,
He’ll say with a laugh, in his eye there’s a glint,
I finish my day with a Life Saver mint.

Peter Lowell Paulson
June 17, 2012

A Life So Kind

How could this wandr’ing wearied choice,
Leap up and steal my inner voice,
God, tear away all bonds of fear,
Please give me peace forever here.


I wish that "sin" or other word,
Would n’er  appear; had ne'er occurred,
So that my life could ever be,
Existing with serenity.


Jump up, jump up, and start to live,
One hour, one day that I can give,
Each step that’s taken up this hill,
Once summit-ed; a vibrant thrill.

So step with me, yes, hand in hand,
This time together, oh, so grand,
And, then some day we both will find,
That life and love have been so kind.

Peter Lowell Paulson
June 11, 2012

The Cup
(Dedicated to Bishop Gregory V. Palmer
Of the Illinois Great Rivers Conference)

The flames upon the cup I see,
Reminds us of Christ’s sovereignty,
And, for His love poured out for all,
Upon the cross we hear Him call.

For each and every one to serve,
Upon the straight path; never swerve,
To share His love to all in need,
With all our being, thought and deed.

Within the cup of simple wood,
The gift of life for which He stood,
And, died so all may truly live,
I pray to you my life to give.

Peter Lowell Paulson
December 9, 2010

Photo is of wooden cup purchased in Sierra Leone in November 2010 while visiting on request of Gregoy V. Palmer at the beginning of the "Imagine No Malaria" initiative.  Being one of two representatives from Illinois (along with two representatives from Texas), to examine the bed net distribution in 3 weeks to 300,000 recipients in the Bo District by 2,700 Sierra Leone villagers, in 3 weeks.  This was all accomplished without the use of ANY electronic media.  Town criers were sent out, after the chiefs decided that this mosquito net distribution would help the community.  The backdrop in the photo is the tunic presented to me by a woman only known as Mother Bea (Beatrice), at a service in a local Sierra Leone church.  These tunics were presented to each of the four voluteers from Illinois and Texas, as we were to go back to help raise 2.3 million dollars in Illinois toward an eventual raising of 75 million dollars to help eradicate malaria forever by the year 2015.

Thirty-Eight Fond Years of Bliss

Thirty-eight fond years of bliss,

Marriage vows; a lover’s kiss,

Pondered now these years in view,

My darling I’m in love with you!

Long ago the stars align,

I am yours and you are mine,

In each other’s arms we swoon,

As we gaze at a lovers’ moon.

How could love feel so brand new?

Hand in hand just me and you,

No greater love, than love like this,

Thirty-eight fond years of bliss!

Peter Lowell Paulson

June 9, 2012

What Glory in a Rainy day

What glory in a rainy day?
Such patt’ring sounds in fond array,
There is no greater joy I feel,
When heaven sends its rain in zeal!

I sit alone with blust’ry wind,
As daily worries do rescind-
Amidst the leaves on each tree top,
A wonder in each fair rain drop.

And, now beseeched by nature here,
Near summertime I do revere-
No man could make this world we find,
This only comes from God's own mind!

Peter Lowell Paulson
June 4, 2012

Bright light upon the fiery rose,

For I mere sit in calm repose,

To see each bloom upon each stem,

And, savor each the crème de crème.

So now each flow-er blooming here,

The Tiger Lily, orange so dear,

Verbena spikes with purple hue,

With cries of, “Here, come hither you!”

Yes, painted daisies dancing there,

Just one by one; they call and stare,

And, whisper, “Why, oh why must we,”

“Be second class to Rosie, thee!”

The Rose she blushed must brighter red,

“I’m from a bush, and where I’m bred,”

“But, I’m a flower; like you the same-“

“We’ll band together; light a flame!”

“In bouquets”, said the Daisy fair,

“We’ll draw attention everywhere”,

“And, in that simply blend will we”,

“Draw joy and complete harmony!”

Peter Lowell Paulson

June 1, 2012