She

To her husband,

she gives unfailing love.

To her offspring,

she gives unstinting aid.

To her whole clan,

she gives stability.

To her labor,

she gives full attention.

To the whole world,

she gives her own children.

She gives.

It’s what she does.

Copyright ©2019, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

My Child

My child,

you fell and bruised your arm.

You’re feeling such alarm.

You don’t know what to do,

but I believe in you.

Your body, time will heal,

and your daddy’s here to help.

My child,

rejection ruined your day.

It hurts, what people say.

You don’t know what to do,

but I believe in you.

Your wounded soul can heal,

and your father wants to help.

My child,

undone by ugly sin,

you’re feeling sick within.

You don’t know what to do,

but I believe in you.

Your spirit can be healed,

if you let the Father help.

Copyright ©2019, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

Fame and Fortune

I don't know why I'm not famous,
    in view of some others who are.
I don't know why I'm not wealthy,
    when rich folks can be so bizarre.

Sure, I've done nothing worth noting
    or being reported as news.
My only claim to success is
   I've walked in my very own shoes.

Never have I been unfaithful
    to her who became my dear wife.
I've never stolen from others,
    nor cheated to better my life.

Luck of the draw makes the difference
    in who gets the wealth and the fame.
I've learned that I can be happy,
    without much of public acclaim.

I have no opulent lifestyle,
    but what I have need of I've got.
I don't know why I'm not famous,
    but truly I'm glad I am not.

Copyright ©2019, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.