Why?
By Larry Linville
Why's my seat always behind someone tall
so I cannot see the performance at all?
And why do I always sit on the aisle
where people step on me and never smile?
Why does the person I'm sitting beside
have a behind that's so very wide?
And when I can see everything clear
why does someone talk so I can't hear?
© Copyright 2008 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, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
New Visitor To Church
I was just recognized in the Spiritual Newsletter at Writing. com. It was for the following poem that I wrote last August. I have forgotten about it and it was good to read it again. I print it again for you.
I am also celebrating the 40th anniversary of my Elder Ordination. I was ordained at Fayette 49 years ago today.
New Visitor To Church
She walked alone into a church one day.
Those who saw her looked the other way.
They tried to catch a sneaky peek
but nobody went to her to speak
and extend warm hospitality
so she could feel their vitality.
“Do you know that woman? one lady said.
The other shrugged her shoulders and her head.
“Her clothing is simple and out of style,”
said one to another with a smug smile.
“Did you notice her finger has no ring?”
“Perhaps she is always having a fling.”
She might be divorced – or doesn’t like men.
We sure don’t need someone like that again!
“The last one was evil -- don’t you recall?”
“If we have her with us, we may all fall.”
“She could be a widow -- it won’t be long then
‘til she starts making a play for our men.”
She sat alone as the service went on.
There was no doubt that the lines had been drawn.
The glib sermon made each one feel bolder.
The mass she was served was just cold shoulder.
The bread and the wine were not withheld
but they gave her much space as if she smelled.
As she left the service and reached the door
they had to confront – they couldn’t ignore.
They said nothing to her just as they planned
but they were startled when they shook her hand
a big nail print which could not be ignored.
Could they have been visited by the LORD?
“As you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto 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.
I am also celebrating the 40th anniversary of my Elder Ordination. I was ordained at Fayette 49 years ago today.
New Visitor To Church
She walked alone into a church one day.
Those who saw her looked the other way.
They tried to catch a sneaky peek
but nobody went to her to speak
and extend warm hospitality
so she could feel their vitality.
“Do you know that woman? one lady said.
The other shrugged her shoulders and her head.
“Her clothing is simple and out of style,”
said one to another with a smug smile.
“Did you notice her finger has no ring?”
“Perhaps she is always having a fling.”
She might be divorced – or doesn’t like men.
We sure don’t need someone like that again!
“The last one was evil -- don’t you recall?”
“If we have her with us, we may all fall.”
“She could be a widow -- it won’t be long then
‘til she starts making a play for our men.”
She sat alone as the service went on.
There was no doubt that the lines had been drawn.
The glib sermon made each one feel bolder.
The mass she was served was just cold shoulder.
The bread and the wine were not withheld
but they gave her much space as if she smelled.
As she left the service and reached the door
they had to confront – they couldn’t ignore.
They said nothing to her just as they planned
but they were startled when they shook her hand
a big nail print which could not be ignored.
Could they have been visited by the LORD?
“As you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto 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.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Making Friends
Making Friends
By Larry Linville
See that fellow over there
sitting in that yellow chair?
I don’t think I like that guy
but I don't think I know why.
Is it 'cause he talks a lot
or thinks he is really hot?
Perhaps it's that crazy smirk
or maybe some other quirk.
I just wish he'd go away
but instead he seems to stay.
Just a minute! I'll be back.
Gosh that fellow over there
isn't really all that square!
We talked and he's really cool
I guess I was just a fool.
I think there's a lesson here
our talk seemed to make it clear.
It's with people we don't know
that our friendship doesn't grow.
When we get to know them well
our friendship begins to swell.
© Copyright 2008 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
See that fellow over there
sitting in that yellow chair?
I don’t think I like that guy
but I don't think I know why.
Is it 'cause he talks a lot
or thinks he is really hot?
Perhaps it's that crazy smirk
or maybe some other quirk.
I just wish he'd go away
but instead he seems to stay.
Just a minute! I'll be back.
Gosh that fellow over there
isn't really all that square!
We talked and he's really cool
I guess I was just a fool.
I think there's a lesson here
our talk seemed to make it clear.
It's with people we don't know
that our friendship doesn't grow.
When we get to know them well
our friendship begins to swell.
© Copyright 2008 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, May 24, 2008
Memorial Day Years Ago
Memorial Day Years Ago
Larry Linville
Up early when I'd rather sleep in
decorating graves about to begin.
Cut the glads and the peonies blue
put them in water when we are through.
The visit of graves where loved one are laid
placing the flowers and short prayers prayed.
We see family and long time friends
then get the Kodak and focus the lens.
We pause at the graves marked with a cross
and learn our freedom was paid by their loss.
American flags of red, white and blue
remind us they were loyal and true.
The picnic basket was opened and shared
with a group of folks for whom we cared.
The graves were pretty on this special day
even though we did not have time to play.
© Copyright 2008 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
Up early when I'd rather sleep in
decorating graves about to begin.
Cut the glads and the peonies blue
put them in water when we are through.
The visit of graves where loved one are laid
placing the flowers and short prayers prayed.
We see family and long time friends
then get the Kodak and focus the lens.
We pause at the graves marked with a cross
and learn our freedom was paid by their loss.
American flags of red, white and blue
remind us they were loyal and true.
The picnic basket was opened and shared
with a group of folks for whom we cared.
The graves were pretty on this special day
even though we did not have time to play.
© Copyright 2008 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, May 20, 2008
Pentecost
Pentecost
Larry Linville
The winds blew loudly all around.
Tongues of flame danced without a sound.
The gibberish speaking in many a tongue
was like new songs first being sung.
Was it an eagle, no it was a dove
that slowly entered from above.
Nothing like this had happened before,
a church service that wouldn't bore.
Peter stood up and saw the crowd
and gave a message clear and loud.
"We aren't drunk like it might seem.
We have power from the Spirit's stream."
People there from all around
began to smile where they all had frowned.
The church that on that day had its birth
started spreading 'round the earth.
Pentecost is not just one day a year.
It lives in all who have ears to hear
the Spirit which had seemed to hide
will always in our hearts abide.
© Copyright 2008 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 winds blew loudly all around.
Tongues of flame danced without a sound.
The gibberish speaking in many a tongue
was like new songs first being sung.
Was it an eagle, no it was a dove
that slowly entered from above.
Nothing like this had happened before,
a church service that wouldn't bore.
Peter stood up and saw the crowd
and gave a message clear and loud.
"We aren't drunk like it might seem.
We have power from the Spirit's stream."
People there from all around
began to smile where they all had frowned.
The church that on that day had its birth
started spreading 'round the earth.
Pentecost is not just one day a year.
It lives in all who have ears to hear
the Spirit which had seemed to hide
will always in our hearts abide.
© Copyright 2008 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, May 18, 2008
The Good Shepherd
The Shepherd's Voice
By Larry Linville
The sheep knows the shepherd's voice.
It makes their trembling hearts rejoice.
They follow him every day
and know he won't lead them astray.
No matter how the time will pass
they know he'll lead them to fresh grass.
When everything in dryness seems
he always finds the coolest streams.
When danger lurks on every side
they know in safety they will abide.
A stranger's voice is not the same.
He doesn't even know their name.
When dangers come with all the strife
he runs away to save his life.
When in hunger they start to cry
he doesn't care if they live or die.
If they get lost or stray away
he's just there to collect his pay.
The stranger always fails the test
but the Good Shepherd gives his best.
© Copyright 2008 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 sheep knows the shepherd's voice.
It makes their trembling hearts rejoice.
They follow him every day
and know he won't lead them astray.
No matter how the time will pass
they know he'll lead them to fresh grass.
When everything in dryness seems
he always finds the coolest streams.
When danger lurks on every side
they know in safety they will abide.
A stranger's voice is not the same.
He doesn't even know their name.
When dangers come with all the strife
he runs away to save his life.
When in hunger they start to cry
he doesn't care if they live or die.
If they get lost or stray away
he's just there to collect his pay.
The stranger always fails the test
but the Good Shepherd gives his best.
© Copyright 2008 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, May 12, 2008
Old Country Preacher
Old Country Preacher
By Larry Linville
He was just an old country preacher.
Many never even hear his name
while others sought tall steeple churches
he had no desire for such great fame.
He went about his regular work
in his very own humble way
serving the needs his little flock
twenty-four hours every day.
His sermons aren't printed in a book
but he worked hard on them just the same.
It was the way he served his people
that helped him achieve his great name.
When he finished his life on this earth
and collected his eternal reward.
His body was fittingly buried
in a small country church graveyard.
© Copyright 2008 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
He was just an old country preacher.
Many never even hear his name
while others sought tall steeple churches
he had no desire for such great fame.
He went about his regular work
in his very own humble way
serving the needs his little flock
twenty-four hours every day.
His sermons aren't printed in a book
but he worked hard on them just the same.
It was the way he served his people
that helped him achieve his great name.
When he finished his life on this earth
and collected his eternal reward.
His body was fittingly buried
in a small country church graveyard.
© Copyright 2008 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, May 9, 2008
My Long Time Friend
My Long Time Friend
By Larry Linville
I see her often - my long time friend.
I know how she looks, each and every bend.
Sometimes she is bubbly and moving with haste
at other times she's dried up and only a waste.
She never speaks a single word,
at least nothing I've ever heard.
Her mouth is so very far away,
that I can't hear what she has to say.
She seldom gets out of her comfy bed
and when she does some people are dead.
She gives no money for me to thank
even though she's often in her bank.
When it comes to life she's a giver.
She's known as the Missouri River.
Whether she's flowing rapid or slow
she's a great lady - the might Mo.
© Copyright 2008 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 see her often - my long time friend.
I know how she looks, each and every bend.
Sometimes she is bubbly and moving with haste
at other times she's dried up and only a waste.
She never speaks a single word,
at least nothing I've ever heard.
Her mouth is so very far away,
that I can't hear what she has to say.
She seldom gets out of her comfy bed
and when she does some people are dead.
She gives no money for me to thank
even though she's often in her bank.
When it comes to life she's a giver.
She's known as the Missouri River.
Whether she's flowing rapid or slow
she's a great lady - the might Mo.
© Copyright 2008 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, May 6, 2008
My Mother-in-law
My Mother-in-law
By Larry Linville
She had three daughters but not a son
until I married her number one.
She welcomed me and treated me good
and always cooked my favorite food.
Green beans that tasted the best I've had
and all that went with them that made me glad.
She sat with a smile as big as her heart
when I agreed to sing "How Great Thou Art."
Her husband was a preacher, that is true,
and soon her daughter wed a preacher too.
I'm sure she bragged about me with no end
to family and each and every friend.
Alzheimers clouded her final days
and made her sit with a distant gaze.
Death came to her as a welcome friend
allowing her spirit to ascend.
© Copyright 2008 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
She had three daughters but not a son
until I married her number one.
She welcomed me and treated me good
and always cooked my favorite food.
Green beans that tasted the best I've had
and all that went with them that made me glad.
She sat with a smile as big as her heart
when I agreed to sing "How Great Thou Art."
Her husband was a preacher, that is true,
and soon her daughter wed a preacher too.
I'm sure she bragged about me with no end
to family and each and every friend.
Alzheimers clouded her final days
and made her sit with a distant gaze.
Death came to her as a welcome friend
allowing her spirit to ascend.
© Copyright 2008 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, May 3, 2008
My Mother
My Mother
By Larry Linville
Born in a family that moved around.
Her dad searched for the job he never found.
She married a farmer of meager means
and their diet was not much more than beans.
My mother.
She raised seven children with love and care
and there were times all she had was prayer.
She spread her love evenly to each child
when things were hectic she always smiled.
My mother.
She was a young widow at forty-four
but she trusted her faith all the more.
She tried to be both mother and dad
and cheered her children when she was so sad.
My mother.
At death she was poor like when she was born
and she found her private way to mourn.
Because she never had much on this earth
her life in heaven must be filled with mirth.
My mother.
When I think of her with fondness each May
I never miss the chance I have to pray
and thank my God for such a humble soul
and search for the words her love to extol.
My mother.
© Copyright 2008 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
Born in a family that moved around.
Her dad searched for the job he never found.
She married a farmer of meager means
and their diet was not much more than beans.
My mother.
She raised seven children with love and care
and there were times all she had was prayer.
She spread her love evenly to each child
when things were hectic she always smiled.
My mother.
She was a young widow at forty-four
but she trusted her faith all the more.
She tried to be both mother and dad
and cheered her children when she was so sad.
My mother.
At death she was poor like when she was born
and she found her private way to mourn.
Because she never had much on this earth
her life in heaven must be filled with mirth.
My mother.
When I think of her with fondness each May
I never miss the chance I have to pray
and thank my God for such a humble soul
and search for the words her love to extol.
My mother.
© Copyright 2008 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, May 1, 2008
How Smart Is He?
How Smart Is He?
By Larry Linville
He talks like he know all
He thinks he's a whiz
If he was half as smart as he thinks
He'd be twice as smart as he is.
He likes you to ask him questions
Give him a very big quiz
If he was half as smart as he thinks
He'd be twice as smart as he is.
He speaks at length about the arts
And talks about show biz
If he was half as smart as he thinks
He'd be twice as smart as he is.
© Copyright 2008 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
He talks like he know all
He thinks he's a whiz
If he was half as smart as he thinks
He'd be twice as smart as he is.
He likes you to ask him questions
Give him a very big quiz
If he was half as smart as he thinks
He'd be twice as smart as he is.
He speaks at length about the arts
And talks about show biz
If he was half as smart as he thinks
He'd be twice as smart as he is.
© Copyright 2008 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.
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