That Can of Soup
By Larry Linville
Remember that little can of soup
a small part of your grocery list?
You could have just thrown it away
and it would never have been missed.
Then the church announced a food drive
for a food pantry down the street
and you took that little can of soup
to share for someone else to eat.
It was only one small can of soup
in that great big stack of food.
It seemed so insignificant
but you hoped it would do good.
I went to that food pantry, friend,
because my shelves were bare
and I picked up that can of soup
so proudly sitting there.
When all my food had been used up
and my hunger pangs grew strong
I ate that little can of soup
and sang a little thankful song.
That little can of soup you gave
might not have been much for you
but it was a big help to me
it helped to get me through.
© 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, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Robo Call
Robo Call
By Larry Linville
I just had my first robo call.
It nearly drove me up the wall.
Lies came flying from my phone.
And even though I was alone
I yelled as loud as I could cry
“That is a great big stupid lie.”
He hit me with another lie
And I say, “Hey, Wait, stop it guy!”
I was quick to identify
that this was not a real guy.
But what could I say or do
before this robo call was through.
I started pounding on the keys
I think it was on the “threes”.
All too soon the call was complete
and I was jumping on my feet
I guess the calls will come each day
and there is nothing I can say.
I wish there’s something I could do
and someone that I could sue.
I hope they call while I am gone
to put a yard sign in my lawn
instead of just sittin’ and grievin’
I’ll use that yard sign to get even.
By Larry Linville
I just had my first robo call.
It nearly drove me up the wall.
Lies came flying from my phone.
And even though I was alone
I yelled as loud as I could cry
“That is a great big stupid lie.”
He hit me with another lie
And I say, “Hey, Wait, stop it guy!”
I was quick to identify
that this was not a real guy.
But what could I say or do
before this robo call was through.
I started pounding on the keys
I think it was on the “threes”.
All too soon the call was complete
and I was jumping on my feet
I guess the calls will come each day
and there is nothing I can say.
I wish there’s something I could do
and someone that I could sue.
I hope they call while I am gone
to put a yard sign in my lawn
instead of just sittin’ and grievin’
I’ll use that yard sign to get even.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
McDonald Coffee Group
McDonald Coffee Group
By Larry Linville
They gather daily with their cup
to tell each other what is up.
They have the same place to sit
and if you’re there, they’ll pitch a fit.
And each chair has the same face
always sitting in the same place.
The golden arches are outside.
They’ll be there until all have died.
Coffee sometimes tastes real good
but often not the way it should.
They never gossip – you know that’s true
but if you’re missing they talk of you.
They discuss all the local news
with their variety of views.
Politics is discussed in full
so things never get very dull
‘cause the facts don’t get in the way
of the opinions that they say.
Look for these groups across the nation
the next time that you a vacation.
Sometimes they make a lot of noise
and they always act like grown up boys.
People notice they are around
and often greet them with a frown.
It’s not Cheers but much the same
‘cause everyone knows your name.
It’s like a club without the fees
where they are free to shoot the breeze.
But it’s not a church that they would make
because they are all wide awake.
By Larry Linville
They gather daily with their cup
to tell each other what is up.
They have the same place to sit
and if you’re there, they’ll pitch a fit.
And each chair has the same face
always sitting in the same place.
The golden arches are outside.
They’ll be there until all have died.
Coffee sometimes tastes real good
but often not the way it should.
They never gossip – you know that’s true
but if you’re missing they talk of you.
They discuss all the local news
with their variety of views.
Politics is discussed in full
so things never get very dull
‘cause the facts don’t get in the way
of the opinions that they say.
Look for these groups across the nation
the next time that you a vacation.
Sometimes they make a lot of noise
and they always act like grown up boys.
People notice they are around
and often greet them with a frown.
It’s not Cheers but much the same
‘cause everyone knows your name.
It’s like a club without the fees
where they are free to shoot the breeze.
But it’s not a church that they would make
because they are all wide awake.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Prodigal Father
The Prodigal Father
By Larry Linville
He asked if I would pray with his friend
who wanted to get his drinking to end.
I’d seen him all around the little town
as a town drunk whose life was always down.
The three of us talked and then we prayed.
I don’t know how long we really stayed.
Then a difficult question he posed
to see if the church’s doors were closed.
“If I go to church will they accept me?”
I searched for an answer to help him see.
“Some don’t even accept me,” I said
“but most of them will.” And he shook his head.
Although he feared the greatest rejection
God warmed the hearts and blocked their objection
and reached out through them with complete grace
as members shared their immediate space.
He attended there for many a week
to change his life he struggled to seek.
And one day with joy shining in his eyes
he asked if I thought he could be baptized.
He flew into his new life on a run
and re-connected with his estranged son.
This new relationship grew each day
and they both worked to put the past away.
It’s good their love grew very strong
but it wouldn’t get to last for long.
Cancer raised it’s cruel ugly head.
In a few months the father was dead.
He died very early one sad day
as the son and I held his hands to pray.
His life may have too soon come to an end
but his once distant son was now his friend.
© 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 asked if I would pray with his friend
who wanted to get his drinking to end.
I’d seen him all around the little town
as a town drunk whose life was always down.
The three of us talked and then we prayed.
I don’t know how long we really stayed.
Then a difficult question he posed
to see if the church’s doors were closed.
“If I go to church will they accept me?”
I searched for an answer to help him see.
“Some don’t even accept me,” I said
“but most of them will.” And he shook his head.
Although he feared the greatest rejection
God warmed the hearts and blocked their objection
and reached out through them with complete grace
as members shared their immediate space.
He attended there for many a week
to change his life he struggled to seek.
And one day with joy shining in his eyes
he asked if I thought he could be baptized.
He flew into his new life on a run
and re-connected with his estranged son.
This new relationship grew each day
and they both worked to put the past away.
It’s good their love grew very strong
but it wouldn’t get to last for long.
Cancer raised it’s cruel ugly head.
In a few months the father was dead.
He died very early one sad day
as the son and I held his hands to pray.
His life may have too soon come to an end
but his once distant son was now his friend.
© 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, October 16, 2008
Conversions
Conversions
By Larry Linville
The same folks came each week
and sat in the back two rows.
No one was ever invited
no Toms, no Harrys or Joes.
The same old hymns were sung
and a dollar put in the plate.
After prayers they ran to their cars
because they could hardly wait.
They were loving people
and very loyal and true.
But they didn’t share the faith
and their church never grew.
At the annual meeting
all the reports were made.
One question was about their growth.
Pastor’s report was not delayed.
How many conversion last year?
How many souls were “won”?
“the furnace is now propane gas,
so I guess conversions were one!”
© 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 same folks came each week
and sat in the back two rows.
No one was ever invited
no Toms, no Harrys or Joes.
The same old hymns were sung
and a dollar put in the plate.
After prayers they ran to their cars
because they could hardly wait.
They were loving people
and very loyal and true.
But they didn’t share the faith
and their church never grew.
At the annual meeting
all the reports were made.
One question was about their growth.
Pastor’s report was not delayed.
How many conversion last year?
How many souls were “won”?
“the furnace is now propane gas,
so I guess conversions were one!”
© 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.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
You Prayed
You Prayed
By Larry Linville
My burden was heavy.
Grew heavier each day.
I was feeling alone
but then you knelt to pray.
I knew not you had done it
when I had no where to turn.
I was feeling helpless,
my heart about to burn.
God knew you were praying
although I never did.
But my bucket of pain
had just released its lid.
My burden was lifted
and still it is today
because you took the time
to take a knee and pray.
© 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
My burden was heavy.
Grew heavier each day.
I was feeling alone
but then you knelt to pray.
I knew not you had done it
when I had no where to turn.
I was feeling helpless,
my heart about to burn.
God knew you were praying
although I never did.
But my bucket of pain
had just released its lid.
My burden was lifted
and still it is today
because you took the time
to take a knee and pray.
© 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, October 12, 2008
Small Church Finds The Answer
Small Church Finds The Answer
By Larry Linville
The small town church was feelin’ low.
Their struggling preacher had to go.
Soon another preacher came
but the church sank deeper in shame.
The new preacher tried hard to lead
but the church continued to bleed.
Nothing seemed to make things new.
No new visions – not even a few.
Right after church one Lord’s day
all board members were asked to stay.
They sat on the front two pews
to share with hope each other’s views.
One by one suggestions came
but it was not more than just a game.
Then a woman rose to her feet
with words that weren’t very discreet.
“If we want the church to change,” she said,
“We should pray.” And to the altar she led.
The church was very shocked for a while
then one by one they came down the aisle.
Every board member that gathered there
knelt at the altar rail in prayer.
No one told them when they were through
but each left with a mission to do.
Would you believe things changed that day
because one old lady knelt to pray?
And people didn’t think it was odd
to turn their problems over to God.
© 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 small town church was feelin’ low.
Their struggling preacher had to go.
Soon another preacher came
but the church sank deeper in shame.
The new preacher tried hard to lead
but the church continued to bleed.
Nothing seemed to make things new.
No new visions – not even a few.
Right after church one Lord’s day
all board members were asked to stay.
They sat on the front two pews
to share with hope each other’s views.
One by one suggestions came
but it was not more than just a game.
Then a woman rose to her feet
with words that weren’t very discreet.
“If we want the church to change,” she said,
“We should pray.” And to the altar she led.
The church was very shocked for a while
then one by one they came down the aisle.
Every board member that gathered there
knelt at the altar rail in prayer.
No one told them when they were through
but each left with a mission to do.
Would you believe things changed that day
because one old lady knelt to pray?
And people didn’t think it was odd
to turn their problems over to God.
© 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.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
DON'T GIVE UP
My greatest fear about this blog is when I go a number of days without a new poem. I guess that might be an irrational objective. You've seen me say several times that I fear if my faithful readers keep checking in an there is no updated material -- they may quit checking in.
With that said, I apologize because the schedule I've been running has slowed down my creativity. The week of bronchitis really took the wind out of my sails. I've had a lot of extra demands on my time.
The poems will flow again. I'm positive about that. Don't give up.
With that said, I apologize because the schedule I've been running has slowed down my creativity. The week of bronchitis really took the wind out of my sails. I've had a lot of extra demands on my time.
The poems will flow again. I'm positive about that. Don't give up.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
It's Not Writers' Cramp
It’s Not Writers’ Cramp
By Larry Linville
Why is it called writers’ cramp?
I don’t have deep sudden pain
or muscles that contract
and I do things I disdain.
Spasms aren’t part of my life.
Horses called “Charley” don’t grab.
I don’t wake up in the night
with pain that makes me feel drab.
I have ideas that don’t move
as I sit and play with my pen
if I’m at the kitchen table
or at my desk in the den.
My thoughts just seem to collect
and lay there suspended in space.
Nothing seems to make them move
no matter how fast I may race.
I don’t think “cramp” is the right word
for this lack of creation.
A more appropriate phrase
is Author’s Constipation!
By Larry Linville
Why is it called writers’ cramp?
I don’t have deep sudden pain
or muscles that contract
and I do things I disdain.
Spasms aren’t part of my life.
Horses called “Charley” don’t grab.
I don’t wake up in the night
with pain that makes me feel drab.
I have ideas that don’t move
as I sit and play with my pen
if I’m at the kitchen table
or at my desk in the den.
My thoughts just seem to collect
and lay there suspended in space.
Nothing seems to make them move
no matter how fast I may race.
I don’t think “cramp” is the right word
for this lack of creation.
A more appropriate phrase
is Author’s Constipation!
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