Prison Visit

Prison Visit

A man from church no longer free,

In prison now I went to see,

I do not even know the crime,

For which he goes to spend his time.

I only know he and his wife,

Are trying to forge a better life,

In Christ they hold to bear the scars,

Yet torn apart by prison bars.

I missed the man and so one day,

I called before he went away,

Now bound in fate where life befalls,

We meet behind the prison walls.

A lonely walk up to the gate,

To meet the many guards who wait-

Within the fenced topped razor wire,

I’m frisked and checked for right attire.

I finally see him face-to-face,

A handshake and a firm embrace,

The hours fly by; we sit and chat-

Of people, places; this and that.

The time now comes that I must go,

He says one thing he’d like to know,

He hopes I’ll visit soon again,

Perhaps next week; farewell ‘til then.

Quite soon I’m in the car to ride,

With gorgeous view the countryside,

And, think of him with thoughts that he,

One day unbound and finally free!

Peter Lowell Paulson

August 20, 2016

Midsummer Song

Midsummer Song

I heard midsummer’s song near fade,

As asters in garden played,

Red clover and the dahlia, too,

So take my hand I’ll walk with you.

The yellow yarrow yawns nearby,

As purple coneflower says, “Goodbye”,

Our scarlet amaranth in view,

As hand in hand I walk with you.

Along the garden path we wend,

The grandest day with my best friend,

We’ll share each bright and brilliant hue,

As hand in hand I’ll walk with you!

Peter Lowell Paulson

August 6, 2016

Splash and Splish

Splash and Splish

Tiny toes that splish and splash,

Captured wind within the dash-

of little girls and little boys,

Bubbles blown on breeze of joys.

Tousled hair and tired eyes,

End of day; the book read prize,

Close your eyes and make a wish,

And, dream about each splash and splish!

Peter Lowell Paulson

July 30, 2016

A Sick Day

A Sick Day

As I awake to contemplate my viral’d blurry head

My nurses are two curled cats in covers on my bed,

Now I am launched; the cats behind as if they’re chasing mice,

My one pursuit to pour some tea into a glass of ice.

I must escape all turning in, and air conditioned room,

The common cold’s no fair excuse for self-inducing gloom,

I walk out to the garden for its life effusing air,

On cue bright bands of lilies raise triumphant trumpet flare.

The marigold with yellow face all crowd the outer clime,

As rod like purple Lythrum wave in metronomic time,

And, orchestrated budded bush devoid of any flower,

Await conducted nature’s nod to bloom in its fine hour.

A choir of birds sang songs of Spring as up and down they swirled,

As I was lifted spirited by viewing God’s grand world!

Peter Lowell Paulson

June 12, 2016

Reid (My Three-year Old Grandson)

Reid (My Three-year Old Grandson)

A swell of emotion,

A heartfelt rending,

Near wrenching,

Caught up in the sleeplessness of “goodbye”,

No death, just parting from a three-year old,

But, not “just parting” either,

Sweet memories swept and sweeping still,

The constant crawling up upon my lap,

With arms caressing my neck,

And, his little head pressed against my shoulder,

As if it was a pillow,

Then as sudden,

A stiff armed push against my chest,

To get a good look at me,

Eye to eye,

And, grin,

Then laugh,

And, jabber for a while,

Only to drop once more,

His head upon my shoulder pillow,

And, tighten those little arms around my neck,

As if afraid,

I might slip away.

Now, will it last…it won’t,

But, memories move me,

These memories will be,

Kept forever!

Peter Lowell Paulson

June 6, 2016

(Poem written after a four-day Grandpa and Grandma “babysitting” this weekend)

Humility

Humility

Humility, a fickle thing,

If I but say I’m offering-

Humility, it’s what I’ve got,

A humble person I am not.

Humility’s not steeped in shame,

Or all beliefs as being the same,

There is that aspect of respect,

To care for other’s intellect.

The powerful must stifle greed,

Yet still be strong when they must lead,

It’s never meek or weak to try,

To carry humble banner high.

Humility, when we pursue,

Far less in words, it’s what we do,

Humility, the virtue of,

Is wrapped within a word called “Love”!

Peter Lowell Paulson

May 29, 2016

A Brilliant Light

A Brilliant Light

 

I ne’er despair whate’er my lot,

For God has found the very spot-
On which I stand, and when I fall,
The highs the lows; He sees it all.

When life is grand or when it’s grim,

Yes, for it all my thanks to Him-
Who made me what I am today,
No shame at all to kneel and pray.

The more I seek the more I find,

It’s when I turn my back I’m blind-
I’ve found in life my greatest sin,
Is when my will has turned within?

Compounded by that question mark,

The bluest blues; the darkest dark,
Yet, brilliant light shines through each loss,
The One who saves survived the cross!

Peter Lowell Paulson

April 2, 2016