Reflections on my Call
By larry r Linville

I didn’t know at the age of twelve
when I answered God’s call to preach
that the commitment I had made
would be difficult for me to reach.

I had a laity concept
of what a preacher’s job is about
when sometimes the sheer magnitude
can smother a person with doubt.

I couldn’t imagine the great bliss
that comes when you help another
or how much pain there can be
when you work with a sick brother.

I never guessed the long hours required
for what I thought an easy career
and yet when I felt exhaustion
my heart could overflow with cheer.

I could never guess how many folks
would share a special place with me
in the deepest of priceless bonds
more special than anyone could see.

There are no words that I can find
in my best poetic creation
to express the inexpressible
of my God-given vocation.

Help from the Hills
By larry r Linville

(Psalm 121:1. “I will lift up my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from?)

Lift up your eyes and look for help.
God’s help is surely there.
The secret of your happiness
depends on where you stare.

It’s hard to feel encouragement
when you are looking down.
When your focus in on the ground
your face will wear a frown.

So look to the hills – God made them
to give you added power.
When others seem to be failing
You’ll have your finest hour.

It’s also good to show a friend
where they can find the hills
and help them lift their eyes above
to fill their lives with thrills.

And don’t let others bring you down
while looking at your feet
just change your vision higher up
so you’ll avoid retreat.

Ash Wednesday -- 2012

What Are You Giving Up?
By larry r Linville

“What are you giving up?”
A dear friend asked of me.
“Giving up?” I questioned
“Yes, for Lent, don’t you see?”

I’ve seen folks give up things
They don’t like any way
Like spinach or turnips
Or a naughty word they say.

Much better if they agreed
To give up evil actions
Like gossip and hot anger
Would bring more satisfactions.

How about adding things
During the days of Lent
Like sharing love with others
Love which is heaven-sent.

Add the study of God’s Word
And increase our life of prayer
Living the kind of life
Just like Jesus Christ is there.

I was asked to write a welcoming poem for Black History gathering on Sunday afternoon.


Welcome to Black History Celebration
By larry r Linville

Welcome to our celebration
In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord
Who fought hard against prejudice
A recorded in His Word.

Jesus loves the little children
including all of us today
Red and yellow, black and white
As we work and as we play.

Let’s give thanks for Dr. King,
Rosa Parks and others of fame
And for all those other heroes
Whom many do not know their name.

May this time of celebration
Draw us closer to each other
And may it help us see our God
In each sister and each brother.

Please send us from this gathering
To be a sermon with our life
And make a powerful witness
To confront our world filled with strife.

Back to the Past
By larry r Linville

Sometimes an image from the past
Emerges inside my brain
just like I was there again
With feelings I can’t explain.

It may be a pleasant odor
That prompts me to remember
The perfume my wife was wearing
When in college I first met her.

Or the Chordettes “Mr. Sandman”
Transports me back so far
When going to a youth meeting
With our sponsors in a car.

A hymn sung in a church service
That in my old home church I heard
Can place me in a special pew
As the preacher shared God’s Word.

I wonder what will happen now
As I’m passing through today
Which someday many years from now
Might cause great movies to play

Goat Latin
By larry r Linville

A university study
About the bleating of goats
Found they have various accents
Which may have to do with their throats.

I learned of this on the radio
They told of the studies they did
Please don’t think I’m pulling your leg
On this topic I would not kid.

Each herd has its own frequency
And they follow voices the same
When the goats hear that special pitch
There’s no need to recall the name.

So Billy and Nanny and kids
All speak the same language it’s true
And if you were also a goat
They possibly may talk to you.

Poems For Money
By larry r Linville

If I wrote my poems for money
I’d be skinny as a rail
My clothes would fit me poorly
And my skin would be quite pale.

I’d have to walk everywhere
Since my car would have no gas
And I couldn’t mow my lawn
Which would grow one foot tall grass.

I might stand on a street corner
With a sign written very good
That I’d show to every driver
With a message,”I’ll rhyme for food.”

But I don’t write poems for money
It’s more like playing with a toy
I share them with other people
With the hope it will bring them joy.

Lift Your Arms If You’re Sure
By larry r Linville

I’m secure in my maleness
As secure as I can be
My wife’s sweet deodorant
Is good enough for me.

I often cannot find my Brut
Or other manly smelling stuff
When you get to my advanced age
There’s no need to prove you’re rough.

I saw that plastic dispenser
When I awoke from my nap
So I picked it up in great haste
And slowly removed the cap.

I turned the wheel at the bottom
And it advance some soft clear gel
While I rubbed in on my arm pits
I noticed a different smell.

I looked at the container
On which was printed Icy Hot
And knew in a split second
Her pain killer I had got.

My body smelled like Ben Gay
An ointment smell was so plain
It gave me a strange aroma
But my arm pits had no pain.

Next time I’ll look more closely
Before my deodorant I don
Because once it’s been applied
It can never be withdrawn.

Distracted By His Cell
By larry r Linville

He swerved into my lane
I slowed and gave him space
I might have said some bad words
About not being in a race.

As I moved up beside him
I saw him on his phone
The car seat behind him
Told me he was not alone.

That increased my anger
More than a notch or two
He put his life in danger
But his small child’s life too.

I glared at him intensely
though he didn’t look my way
If I could get his attention
I’d have a lot to say.

I don’t think he was texting
But his eyes weren’t on the road
The responsibility for that child
Should have been a heavy load.

When I turned off at the ramp
I saw he was still there
And the only thing I could do
Was to say an extra prayer.