Standing In Line
By Larry Linville
Lines are everywhere.
Lines are here and lines are there.
The new iPhone draws a crowd
“I have to have one” they all vowed.
Stand here for the Harry Potter book.
And here to give a movie a good look.
At Walmart you have to choose
if the express lane you’ll abuse.
Or will you use self service,
which always makes me nervous.
At the restaurant there is no line,
but you have to sit until you dine.
Lines in the restroom are what is sad,
if you’re in a hurry it’s just too bad.
In concert lines you really choke
inhaling that funny smelling smoke.
At a baseball and football game
you stand in line, just the same.
There’s one place with no line to search
and that the entry to a church.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
Abandonment
Abandonment
By Larry Linville
I took a drive through the old part of the city
where the run down houses were not very pretty.
Abandonment is present where beauty once shone.
It turned once grassy lawns to litter and stone.
These bad conditions did not happen over night.
One by one each added to the growing blight.
There are many reasons for this sad condition.
Neglect heads the list that killed this proud tradition.
Buildings are not the only victims of this scene.
Abandonment of people is even more obscene.
Damage to the buildings is obvious to see.
But people’s poor condition is the vital key.
There are many churches who have abandoned folks.
They are like a pretty wheel with some missing spokes.
Once peoples lives soared with hopes and faith so high.
Abandoned by the members, their faith had to die.
A church may have stained glass windows shining so bright,
But the life of many members may be an ugly sight.
Abandonment has built a dangerous façade.
And the final blow comes as they abandon God.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
By Larry Linville
I took a drive through the old part of the city
where the run down houses were not very pretty.
Abandonment is present where beauty once shone.
It turned once grassy lawns to litter and stone.
These bad conditions did not happen over night.
One by one each added to the growing blight.
There are many reasons for this sad condition.
Neglect heads the list that killed this proud tradition.
Buildings are not the only victims of this scene.
Abandonment of people is even more obscene.
Damage to the buildings is obvious to see.
But people’s poor condition is the vital key.
There are many churches who have abandoned folks.
They are like a pretty wheel with some missing spokes.
Once peoples lives soared with hopes and faith so high.
Abandoned by the members, their faith had to die.
A church may have stained glass windows shining so bright,
But the life of many members may be an ugly sight.
Abandonment has built a dangerous façade.
And the final blow comes as they abandon God.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Not a Poem
When I started this blog I was hoping to have a new poem each day. That was very unrealistic, although I've come close. Poetry is so new to me. I now find myself spending more time on the poems and trying to reach into more depth. I have one about ready and a few more in the hopper.
Stay tuned. I'll keep working at it.
Stay tuned. I'll keep working at it.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Rock Concerts And Jesus
Rock Concerts and Jesus
Larry Linville
The concert season is in full swing.
The big name idols are there to sing.
The tickets cost more than I can afford.
That’s one more thing to be ignored.
People come from points far away
to watch these people sing and play.
They’ll use plastic to cover the price
and go into debt and not think twice.
If Jesus appeared in a coliseum
I wonder how many would go to see him?
Would the same people crowd in there?
Or would they think that he’s too square.
This question we really shouldn’t pursue.
The real decision is - what would you do?
Would you stay at home because of the cost,
or go in search of those who are “lost.”
His method is not to stand and perform.
He wants to help us as we reform.
He wants us to remove all our tethers,
and bring his kind of love to others.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com,
its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Larry Linville
The concert season is in full swing.
The big name idols are there to sing.
The tickets cost more than I can afford.
That’s one more thing to be ignored.
People come from points far away
to watch these people sing and play.
They’ll use plastic to cover the price
and go into debt and not think twice.
If Jesus appeared in a coliseum
I wonder how many would go to see him?
Would the same people crowd in there?
Or would they think that he’s too square.
This question we really shouldn’t pursue.
The real decision is - what would you do?
Would you stay at home because of the cost,
or go in search of those who are “lost.”
His method is not to stand and perform.
He wants to help us as we reform.
He wants us to remove all our tethers,
and bring his kind of love to others.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com,
its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Dog Wanting My Food
Dog Wanting My Food
Larry Linville
My dog sits and looks up at me as I eat my little meal
His eyes with expectation stare in the hope of a good deal.
He thinks that I will miss my mouth and my food will hit the floor.
Attempting to keep on eating – his hungry stare I ignore.
He licks his lips so often and he prepares for quick attack.
His mind sees a large vision of me dropping my little snack.
Carefully he watches each movement of fork to my face
I think he’s so sure of himself that he begins to say the grace.
I am not a sloppy eater although stains adorn my shirt
The spots come from all the food I eat including my dessert
The floor is not a landing space for any crumbs that I may drop
So you can rest assured you’ll never need to get the mop.
Now I’m down to the final bite – I take it off of my plate.
Oops – that darn dog was right all along – he’s thinking he’s really great!
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Larry Linville
My dog sits and looks up at me as I eat my little meal
His eyes with expectation stare in the hope of a good deal.
He thinks that I will miss my mouth and my food will hit the floor.
Attempting to keep on eating – his hungry stare I ignore.
He licks his lips so often and he prepares for quick attack.
His mind sees a large vision of me dropping my little snack.
Carefully he watches each movement of fork to my face
I think he’s so sure of himself that he begins to say the grace.
I am not a sloppy eater although stains adorn my shirt
The spots come from all the food I eat including my dessert
The floor is not a landing space for any crumbs that I may drop
So you can rest assured you’ll never need to get the mop.
Now I’m down to the final bite – I take it off of my plate.
Oops – that darn dog was right all along – he’s thinking he’s really great!
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
The Unfinished Book
On Sunday, I will preach my last sermon in a church to which I have been appointed. I wrote this poem as I anticipate how I will feel on Sunday
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com,
its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
The Unfinished Book
By Larry Linville
I close another chapter today.
The story has been written.
I take out a new sheet and my pen.
This author isn’t quitin’.
Each chapter has contained something new.
Some took many years to write.
One may be a long slow moving day,
another a quick spent night.
Each page is such a deep part of me.
It’s sad to see them conclude.
But all of these extra parts provide
a special spiritual food.
I don’t know what will fill the next page.
It will open with a new joy.
With God to open the door each day
I’ll find new words to employ
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com,
its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Baby Wrens Leave The Nest
Baby Wrens Leave the Nest
by Larry Linville
The wren house is so vacant today
Two baby wrens went out to play.
They aimed for the sky but went to the ground.
Failure compelled their little hearts to pound.
They both looked around with a birdie smirk
And wondered, “Is this the way these wings work?”
They tried hard to overcome the suspense
and fluttered awkwardly up to the fence.
Doubtful if they could pass this rugged test,
they took a look back to their comfy nest.
Unsure if they knew how to make that flight
They tried to examine their shaky plight.
They fluttered here and they fluttered there
With parents watching from far, with care.
I’m told that the chirping sounds they made
Was a parents way of giving aid.
“You can do it, we know you can,
to see you fly has been our plan.”
Babies replied “We hear what you say!”
They lifted their wings and flew away.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
by Larry Linville
The wren house is so vacant today
Two baby wrens went out to play.
They aimed for the sky but went to the ground.
Failure compelled their little hearts to pound.
They both looked around with a birdie smirk
And wondered, “Is this the way these wings work?”
They tried hard to overcome the suspense
and fluttered awkwardly up to the fence.
Doubtful if they could pass this rugged test,
they took a look back to their comfy nest.
Unsure if they knew how to make that flight
They tried to examine their shaky plight.
They fluttered here and they fluttered there
With parents watching from far, with care.
I’m told that the chirping sounds they made
Was a parents way of giving aid.
“You can do it, we know you can,
to see you fly has been our plan.”
Babies replied “We hear what you say!”
They lifted their wings and flew away.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Small Boy At A Funeral
I attended a funeral yesterday to give support for a young couple who are friends of the deceased. As I waited, my eyes and heart was captured by a 4 year old boy at the casket.
I scribbled notes on the back of the memorial and then came home and developed the following poem.
Small Boy At A Funeral
By Larry Linville
I sat in a funeral home today
with an open casket of somber gray.
A four year old boy walked up to look in
with the casket the same height as his chin
His curiosity seemed to prevail
as he stared at the body in detail.
What were his thoughts as he stood and stared?
I’d like to have asked but I never dared.
How could his young mind ever understand
something that mystifies the wisest man?
You can’t explain it to him, nor can I.
Can you tell a child what it means to die?
His bright eyes were wide open as he turned.
To know all his thoughts my mind never learned.
Then I was told the deceased was his dad
My heart became heavy – this was so sad.
It seemed there were no right words I could say
I opened my heart and began to pray.
I pray that he’ll be surrounded with love
from family and friends and our God above
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
I scribbled notes on the back of the memorial and then came home and developed the following poem.
Small Boy At A Funeral
By Larry Linville
I sat in a funeral home today
with an open casket of somber gray.
A four year old boy walked up to look in
with the casket the same height as his chin
His curiosity seemed to prevail
as he stared at the body in detail.
What were his thoughts as he stood and stared?
I’d like to have asked but I never dared.
How could his young mind ever understand
something that mystifies the wisest man?
You can’t explain it to him, nor can I.
Can you tell a child what it means to die?
His bright eyes were wide open as he turned.
To know all his thoughts my mind never learned.
Then I was told the deceased was his dad
My heart became heavy – this was so sad.
It seemed there were no right words I could say
I opened my heart and began to pray.
I pray that he’ll be surrounded with love
from family and friends and our God above
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Monday, June 18, 2007
A Long Boring Talk
A Long Boring Talk
By Larry Linville
I’m trying
oh how I’m trying
to listen to an uninspiring speech.
Say something
tell me something
more than a barrage of words.
Don’t preach
we aren’t in a church.
Talk to me
please don’t shout
in your high pitched monotone.
Show feeling
in a variety of voice tones
share with me
give me your story
I want to see who you are
where you’ve been
what you’ve done
where you’re going
and
how I can follow.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
By Larry Linville
I’m trying
oh how I’m trying
to listen to an uninspiring speech.
Say something
tell me something
more than a barrage of words.
Don’t preach
we aren’t in a church.
Talk to me
please don’t shout
in your high pitched monotone.
Show feeling
in a variety of voice tones
share with me
give me your story
I want to see who you are
where you’ve been
what you’ve done
where you’re going
and
how I can follow.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
No Poem Today
I have a poem, but it's not ready to share.
I attended a convention and the first speaker was terrible!
In order to pass the time, I wrote a poem while he was talking.
I think it's pretty good but I'm running it by the Writer's group for review first.
Only the best for my blog readers.
45 years ago today Thelma and I were married at Kreske Chapel.
It was on the National College campus, where we met.
That is now the Saint Paul School of Theology campus.
Since Thelma has to work and I SHOULD BE at that convention,
we went out to our regular saturday breakfast place,
The Corner Cafe.
We allowed ourselves to split a cinnamon roll.
Now I want you to know these rolls are huge.
So now Thelma is at work and I'm finishing up preparations for Sunday's service.
I'm preaching that sermon which goes with my poem of a couple of says ago,
"Crooked Politics Go Back a Long Way."
So, I just wanted to drop by in case you checked the blog out today.
I feel that if I don't write something (preferably poetry) regularly,
you won't drop by very often.
Have a good day.
Don't forget to give thanks for your Father.
You, who are fathers, be sure to live a life so you children can honestly be thankful for you.
I attended a convention and the first speaker was terrible!
In order to pass the time, I wrote a poem while he was talking.
I think it's pretty good but I'm running it by the Writer's group for review first.
Only the best for my blog readers.
45 years ago today Thelma and I were married at Kreske Chapel.
It was on the National College campus, where we met.
That is now the Saint Paul School of Theology campus.
Since Thelma has to work and I SHOULD BE at that convention,
we went out to our regular saturday breakfast place,
The Corner Cafe.
We allowed ourselves to split a cinnamon roll.
Now I want you to know these rolls are huge.
So now Thelma is at work and I'm finishing up preparations for Sunday's service.
I'm preaching that sermon which goes with my poem of a couple of says ago,
"Crooked Politics Go Back a Long Way."
So, I just wanted to drop by in case you checked the blog out today.
I feel that if I don't write something (preferably poetry) regularly,
you won't drop by very often.
Have a good day.
Don't forget to give thanks for your Father.
You, who are fathers, be sure to live a life so you children can honestly be thankful for you.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Men Asking For Directions
Men Asking For Directions
By Larry Linville
Moses led the people forty long years
and his stubbornness brought them rejections.
They couldn’t enter the promised land
because real men don’t ask for directions.
Directions are found on all that we buy
for assembling with proper connections.
Men only read after messing it up
because real men don’t ask for directions.
When continually getting lost as I drive
with my wife shouting out her objections.
I tell her I’ll find my way very soon
because real men don’t ask for directions.
Life is not easy and all men get lost
as they turn at the wrong intersections.
My Bible gives the instructions I need
because real men do ask for directions.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
By Larry Linville
Moses led the people forty long years
and his stubbornness brought them rejections.
They couldn’t enter the promised land
because real men don’t ask for directions.
Directions are found on all that we buy
for assembling with proper connections.
Men only read after messing it up
because real men don’t ask for directions.
When continually getting lost as I drive
with my wife shouting out her objections.
I tell her I’ll find my way very soon
because real men don’t ask for directions.
Life is not easy and all men get lost
as they turn at the wrong intersections.
My Bible gives the instructions I need
because real men do ask for directions.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Crooked Politics
Crooked Politics
By Larry Linville
(based on 1 Kings 21:1-21)
King Ahab wanted a vineyard and was willing to pay
It was in Naboth’s family forever and a day
Naboth said, “I just can’t do that, Sire,
You don’t have enough cash to acquire.”
Ahab pouted and moped all around the house
Jezy asked, “In Baal’s name, are you a man or a mouse?”
She called a meeting for Naboth to attend
With two of her helpers, she plotted his end.
They trumped up false charges for these guys to bring
They said he cursed God as well as the king.
The plan was completed as they stoned him right there
And the king took his vineyard as his answer to prayer.
When we look at what’s done in our world today
We can see people that still try to betray.
If you worry when you see this kind of crime
Remember crooked politics go back a long time.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
By Larry Linville
(based on 1 Kings 21:1-21)
King Ahab wanted a vineyard and was willing to pay
It was in Naboth’s family forever and a day
Naboth said, “I just can’t do that, Sire,
You don’t have enough cash to acquire.”
Ahab pouted and moped all around the house
Jezy asked, “In Baal’s name, are you a man or a mouse?”
She called a meeting for Naboth to attend
With two of her helpers, she plotted his end.
They trumped up false charges for these guys to bring
They said he cursed God as well as the king.
The plan was completed as they stoned him right there
And the king took his vineyard as his answer to prayer.
When we look at what’s done in our world today
We can see people that still try to betray.
If you worry when you see this kind of crime
Remember crooked politics go back a long time.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Monday, June 11, 2007
My Body
My Body
By Larry Linville
I’ve known my body a long, long time
and I’ve safely lived much past my prime.
When I think that I have mastered it
something I need decides to quit.
I’ve learned to feel each ache and pain
and I know over-eating makes me gain.
But I haven’t learned things I could use
to make it easy for me to lose.
I know there are classes I could take,
but I go and then can’t stay awake.
I can surely find something in a book
if I only knew where to look.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work
By Larry Linville
I’ve known my body a long, long time
and I’ve safely lived much past my prime.
When I think that I have mastered it
something I need decides to quit.
I’ve learned to feel each ache and pain
and I know over-eating makes me gain.
But I haven’t learned things I could use
to make it easy for me to lose.
I know there are classes I could take,
but I go and then can’t stay awake.
I can surely find something in a book
if I only knew where to look.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Don't Lower God
You may want to read the 8th Psalm before or after reading this poem.
Don’t Lower God.
By Larry Linville
Hey, David, I’m so glad you aren’t around.
They’re doing some things that would make you frown.
Your Psalms are uplifting -- give God much praise.
They want to make him their ol’ buddy these days.
You knew that God can’t be captured in words from off the street
no matter how many righteous phrases we repeat.
You knew that poetry best expresses the obscure
while the words of science just cannot endure.
You said God was Majestic – much higher that we.
And there’s no way to write on paper what we see.
Today we want to lower the level to words of prose
And remove the majestic language that you chose.
Some want to bring the Bible into a science class.
Without it, they believe our children just can’t pass.
They call this intrusion “intelligent design”
believing it will open the door to the Divine.
Their efforts are sincere, their motives are pure
and very well intentioned to be sure.
The effort brings God down to science and prose
and removes the great glory which from the Psalms flows.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Don’t Lower God.
By Larry Linville
Hey, David, I’m so glad you aren’t around.
They’re doing some things that would make you frown.
Your Psalms are uplifting -- give God much praise.
They want to make him their ol’ buddy these days.
You knew that God can’t be captured in words from off the street
no matter how many righteous phrases we repeat.
You knew that poetry best expresses the obscure
while the words of science just cannot endure.
You said God was Majestic – much higher that we.
And there’s no way to write on paper what we see.
Today we want to lower the level to words of prose
And remove the majestic language that you chose.
Some want to bring the Bible into a science class.
Without it, they believe our children just can’t pass.
They call this intrusion “intelligent design”
believing it will open the door to the Divine.
Their efforts are sincere, their motives are pure
and very well intentioned to be sure.
The effort brings God down to science and prose
and removes the great glory which from the Psalms flows.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Elijah and the Widow
This poem will be used with my sermon on June 10, 2007
Elijah and the Widow
By Larry Linville
(based on I Kings 17:8-16)
Her life was nearly over as she gathered firewood.
With her last grain and oil she’d make them something good.
In her poverty and hunger she would lie down to rest
go to sleep and not wake up – she knew that was the best.
Elijah came along to this woman who was bereft.
“First feed me,” he said to her, “then you can eat what’s left.
He made a crazy promise which surely led to doubt.
“After you have fed me,” your food will not run out.
Can you believe the faith it took for her to feed him first?
She had given him some water to take away his thirst.
She fed him first and then herself and her little boy.
This selfless act was an opening to the greatest joy.
The grain was not empty and the oil did not fail.
She had all she needed as she walked along life’s trail.
Had she ignored the command Elijah made that day
There’d be no good news to share in any way.
Perhaps our joy is running low as we struggle with our lack.
Would we only learn what we give God -- is truly given back.
To put God first in all we do is the message of this tale.
Serve God through serving others – and you’ll have a loaded pail.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Elijah and the Widow
By Larry Linville
(based on I Kings 17:8-16)
Her life was nearly over as she gathered firewood.
With her last grain and oil she’d make them something good.
In her poverty and hunger she would lie down to rest
go to sleep and not wake up – she knew that was the best.
Elijah came along to this woman who was bereft.
“First feed me,” he said to her, “then you can eat what’s left.
He made a crazy promise which surely led to doubt.
“After you have fed me,” your food will not run out.
Can you believe the faith it took for her to feed him first?
She had given him some water to take away his thirst.
She fed him first and then herself and her little boy.
This selfless act was an opening to the greatest joy.
The grain was not empty and the oil did not fail.
She had all she needed as she walked along life’s trail.
Had she ignored the command Elijah made that day
There’d be no good news to share in any way.
Perhaps our joy is running low as we struggle with our lack.
Would we only learn what we give God -- is truly given back.
To put God first in all we do is the message of this tale.
Serve God through serving others – and you’ll have a loaded pail.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
The Coffee House Dogs
The Coffee House Dogs
By Larry Linville
I went to a coffee house they call the Friendly Bean
And saw some strange things I have never seen.
They had more kinds of coffee than I knew we had
I tried a new one and it wasn’t half bad.
Outside the building was a man in bright trousers
Drawing a picture of two cute little schnauzers.
As he worked, he had coffee and also some food
the dogs were probably thinking, “how rude!”
I tried to put myself in those little dog’s place
And I’m sure I wouldn’t want to show my face.
But there they were – for all to see,
Thinking of every place they would rather be.
I’ll bet they’d like to turn the tables around
And sit on the chair with the artist on the ground.
Coffee and brownie eating, would be their greatest wish
while that full-grown man wore a silly leash.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
By Larry Linville
I went to a coffee house they call the Friendly Bean
And saw some strange things I have never seen.
They had more kinds of coffee than I knew we had
I tried a new one and it wasn’t half bad.
Outside the building was a man in bright trousers
Drawing a picture of two cute little schnauzers.
As he worked, he had coffee and also some food
the dogs were probably thinking, “how rude!”
I tried to put myself in those little dog’s place
And I’m sure I wouldn’t want to show my face.
But there they were – for all to see,
Thinking of every place they would rather be.
I’ll bet they’d like to turn the tables around
And sit on the chair with the artist on the ground.
Coffee and brownie eating, would be their greatest wish
while that full-grown man wore a silly leash.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
West Side Story Is In My Head
West Side Story Is In My Head
by Larry Linville
My days in college brought a curve in life’s road.
This small farm boy met the big wild world.
Weeds and grass and cornfields
were replaced by concrete and steel
Horse shows were traded for operas and ballets.
The small high school became a college – a small college
In the lounge of that new school
Where the students came and went
Like the tide at the great oceans.
Teenagers were adjusting to their future life.
Each tried to impress newfound friends.
In the corner of that great formal lounge
Sat a fine mahogany stereo.
Although there were many albums
One was playing most any time.
It’s music rings in my ears just like it was today.
“Maria, Maria, I just met a girl named Maria.”
“There’s a place for us…”
West Side Story was planted in my head.
Anytime I hear one of those songs
Or see the movie or the play
My mind takes me back to that lounge
In that small college
And it’s yesterday
All over again.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
by Larry Linville
My days in college brought a curve in life’s road.
This small farm boy met the big wild world.
Weeds and grass and cornfields
were replaced by concrete and steel
Horse shows were traded for operas and ballets.
The small high school became a college – a small college
In the lounge of that new school
Where the students came and went
Like the tide at the great oceans.
Teenagers were adjusting to their future life.
Each tried to impress newfound friends.
In the corner of that great formal lounge
Sat a fine mahogany stereo.
Although there were many albums
One was playing most any time.
It’s music rings in my ears just like it was today.
“Maria, Maria, I just met a girl named Maria.”
“There’s a place for us…”
West Side Story was planted in my head.
Anytime I hear one of those songs
Or see the movie or the play
My mind takes me back to that lounge
In that small college
And it’s yesterday
All over again.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
A Poem from a friend
I have met a person in Writing.com. That is the place I send my poems for review before I place them here. It also gets them copywritten.
Now this is important --- I asked her permission to place her poem here because it is copywritten. She was very gracious to give me permission.
I want you to have a chance to read it. I see so much "christian" writings that are so shallow. They fail to help us see the full impact of Jesus. Jesus is not just here to make me feel good, but to help me treat others like he did. Anyway, I want you to read this.
Uncompassionate People
by Michelle Susann
For God so loved the world,
that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in him
should become pretentious,
narrow-minded, judgmental,
and uncompassionate people
with a superannuated theology
Ready to change all frequent visitors
And converts in a single bound
Getting them to stop smoking,
Drinking, doing drugs,
Wearing revealing clothing,
Piercing their faces,
and other unmentionable places,
changing their purple hair
Back to brown
They say they love Him
More and more, but
They’re acting like His enemy
fighting all that God’s working for
they’ve sold their souls for vanity
They’re not the Christians
They should be
Going against what is commanded
By the name of our Lord Jesus Christ
They divide into cliques
neglecting the new and lonely faces
Never once offering them a seat in
Bible study or a day out for lunch
And drive off in their Touaregs
Ignoring the less fortunate
As they pour another quart
Into the Sunbird - then give it a push
Love is patient, love is kind
Love is not envious or
Boastful or arrogant or rude
It does not insist on its own way
It is not irritable or resentful
It doesn’t rejoice in wrongdoing
It rejoices in the truth
It bears all things
Believes all things
Hopes all things
Endures all things
Love never ends
And all Christians should follow Him
Even if it means having to deal with
Sitting next to some scruffy kid
with straggly hair and stinky feet
You are the only Christ that he will see
And he might benefit from your company
© Copyright 2007 Michelle Susann (UN: mschelle at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Michelle Susann has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work
Thank you -- Michelle
Now this is important --- I asked her permission to place her poem here because it is copywritten. She was very gracious to give me permission.
I want you to have a chance to read it. I see so much "christian" writings that are so shallow. They fail to help us see the full impact of Jesus. Jesus is not just here to make me feel good, but to help me treat others like he did. Anyway, I want you to read this.
Uncompassionate People
by Michelle Susann
For God so loved the world,
that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in him
should become pretentious,
narrow-minded, judgmental,
and uncompassionate people
with a superannuated theology
Ready to change all frequent visitors
And converts in a single bound
Getting them to stop smoking,
Drinking, doing drugs,
Wearing revealing clothing,
Piercing their faces,
and other unmentionable places,
changing their purple hair
Back to brown
They say they love Him
More and more, but
They’re acting like His enemy
fighting all that God’s working for
they’ve sold their souls for vanity
They’re not the Christians
They should be
Going against what is commanded
By the name of our Lord Jesus Christ
They divide into cliques
neglecting the new and lonely faces
Never once offering them a seat in
Bible study or a day out for lunch
And drive off in their Touaregs
Ignoring the less fortunate
As they pour another quart
Into the Sunbird - then give it a push
Love is patient, love is kind
Love is not envious or
Boastful or arrogant or rude
It does not insist on its own way
It is not irritable or resentful
It doesn’t rejoice in wrongdoing
It rejoices in the truth
It bears all things
Believes all things
Hopes all things
Endures all things
Love never ends
And all Christians should follow Him
Even if it means having to deal with
Sitting next to some scruffy kid
with straggly hair and stinky feet
You are the only Christ that he will see
And he might benefit from your company
© Copyright 2007 Michelle Susann (UN: mschelle at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Michelle Susann has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work
Thank you -- Michelle
Monday, June 4, 2007
A Cute Little Blonde
A Cute Little Blonde
By Larry Linville
We went out for breakfast this morning
and saw a little blonde with curly hair.
She looked so much like my granddaughter did
And all I could do was just stare.
I watched as she played with her father
She giggled and teased and she kissed.
I was filled with all those sweet memories
That after a decade – I missed.
I pulled out a picture of my granddaughter
And was headed across the way
I wanted to show him the future
And how his daughter would look some day.
As I approached the table to see them
I knew I would bring them great joy.
When I asked about their cute little girl
Abruptly they said, “he’s a boy!”
Oops.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
By Larry Linville
We went out for breakfast this morning
and saw a little blonde with curly hair.
She looked so much like my granddaughter did
And all I could do was just stare.
I watched as she played with her father
She giggled and teased and she kissed.
I was filled with all those sweet memories
That after a decade – I missed.
I pulled out a picture of my granddaughter
And was headed across the way
I wanted to show him the future
And how his daughter would look some day.
As I approached the table to see them
I knew I would bring them great joy.
When I asked about their cute little girl
Abruptly they said, “he’s a boy!”
Oops.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
My First Circus
My First Circus
By Larry Linville
Grandpa died when I was five and memories of him are few.
One memory etched in my mind has a very vivid view.
We went to see the circus when it came into our town.
I saw many animals but my favorite was the clown.
I’m sure we had some popcorn and some cotton candy too.
I can’t remember what we drank but anything would do.
Then he pointed way upon high a man walking on a wire.
It was likely only twenty feet but to me it looked much higher.
I can’t remember much else from my evening in that tent.
But it meant so much to me because with him I went.
He didn’t have a lot of funds – I’m fairly sure of this.
But on that one short evening – I felt that we were rich.
I wonder how much fun he had on that very special night.
I hope he went home thinking that he’d done something right.
I pray I’ve given my own grand kids things that they can see
In their special memories -- so they’ll always think of me.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
By Larry Linville
Grandpa died when I was five and memories of him are few.
One memory etched in my mind has a very vivid view.
We went to see the circus when it came into our town.
I saw many animals but my favorite was the clown.
I’m sure we had some popcorn and some cotton candy too.
I can’t remember what we drank but anything would do.
Then he pointed way upon high a man walking on a wire.
It was likely only twenty feet but to me it looked much higher.
I can’t remember much else from my evening in that tent.
But it meant so much to me because with him I went.
He didn’t have a lot of funds – I’m fairly sure of this.
But on that one short evening – I felt that we were rich.
I wonder how much fun he had on that very special night.
I hope he went home thinking that he’d done something right.
I pray I’ve given my own grand kids things that they can see
In their special memories -- so they’ll always think of me.
© Copyright 2007 Larry Linville (UN: larrylinville at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved. Larry Linville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Annual Conference
I'm leaving early this morning to attend Annual Conference. I attended my first Annual Conference in 1960. I missed last year for the first time. You don't HAVE to go after you've retired. Last year I had to choose between Conference and a family reunion of my wife's family.
I will not attend the whole thing. I'm retired! I look forward to seeing old friends -- and most of my friends are old. I will share a meal with the other retirees and renew our memories.
I will also watch as a young man is "commissioned." He was a youth at Cameron when I was pastor there. I have had the priviledge of being his mentor for the past few years. It's going to be a real thrill to watch on Saturday as he moves into the next step in his ministry.
Don't look for a new entry until Sunday. At that time, I'm sure I will have some new poetry to share with you.
I will not attend the whole thing. I'm retired! I look forward to seeing old friends -- and most of my friends are old. I will share a meal with the other retirees and renew our memories.
I will also watch as a young man is "commissioned." He was a youth at Cameron when I was pastor there. I have had the priviledge of being his mentor for the past few years. It's going to be a real thrill to watch on Saturday as he moves into the next step in his ministry.
Don't look for a new entry until Sunday. At that time, I'm sure I will have some new poetry to share with you.
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