GOIN' HOME

Nicholas L. Reed

Description

Life in the Country Through the Lens of Faith. This collection of poetry is chock-full of country wisdom and down-home philosophy that will tickle your funny bone and tug at your heartstrings. Rooted in a deep love for family, respect for nature, and unwavering faith, these observations from over six decades of country life and farming will remind you, again and again, that through every season of life God is leading the way.

Sujets

• Inspirational
• Themes
• Subjects
• Religious
• Poetry

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 14 novembre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781478794066
• Langue: English

Extrait

GOIN’ HOME
Reflections on faith, farm and family
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2018 Nicholas L. Reed
v2.0

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.
http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-4787-9406-6

Cover Photo © 2018 Nicholas L. Reed. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Contents
R. I. P. ROB THORN
A Card From the Wall
A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE
A FARMER’S MUSINIGS
A NOTE TO WELL WISHERS ON MY BIRTHDAY
A SIMPLE SONG
A VISIT TO THE OLD HOMESTEAD
AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH
CONTEMPLATING MISERY
DANDELIONS
DELAYED INGENUITY
ELIXIR
EVANGEL
GONE HOME
GOODBYE VINNY
HE SPEAKS
HEAVEN
HINDSIGHT
HOMECOMING
HUMILITY
HUMMINGBIRD
IN MEMORIAM
GIVE ME JOY
JUST SMILE
LIGHTING BUGS
LILACS
LOST AND FOUND
LIFE EXPLAINED
METAMORPHOSIS
NEMESIS
A MEETUP WITH OLD MAN WINTER
ODE TO A BLACK LAB
Once In A While
REMEMBERING
RESURRECTION
SAGE ADVICE
SILVER DOLLAR CHRISTMAS
STILL PUZZLED AT 68
STOWAWAY
SUCCESS DEFINED
SWING SONGS
SYMPATHY CARD
THE MOST IMPORTANT THING
TERMS OF SERVICE
THE AUTUMN OF MY YEARS
THE COUNTRY THEOLOGIAN
THE PLAIN TRUTH
THE GRAND OLD SHINGLE OAK
THE THOUGHTFUL GIFT
THE YOUTHFUL HUNTER
THEM THISTLES
TOMATOES
WELCOME COMPANY
WHEN SHE SINGS
WHEN THE GRANDKIDS COME TO VISIT
CONFESSION
R. I. P. ROB THORN
Sixty-seven of these special days
Has God granted me by His grace,
But I know of a soul by no choice of his own
Who will much sooner than I see His face.


He is the friend I’ve never met
Though close to him now I may be,
Who at forty-two years, the “prime” of his life,
Will from the trials here on earth be set free.

Those who know him would say with a singular voice,
Though at times perhaps wondering why,
That he showed by example how life should be lived
And is teaching them now how to die.

There’s not much I ask for my birthday this year-
Just a promise that you won’t forget,
And take time today, to pause and to pray
For the friend I’ve never met.
A Card From the Wall
(While renovating my boyhood home the owners found my boy scout card from 1956 and mailed it to me)




Just a card from the wall
Causes mem’ries to fall
Like snowflakes caressing the brain.
I’m thinking again
Of things way back then
Of myriad joys mixed with pain.

O how sweet it would be
My old friends to see
And once again play kick the can.
But realities beckon
And that’s a good thing I reckon
For I know that’s not part of The Plan.

So here let me state
No furrow runs straight
If behind you look as you plow.
With my race not yet won
There’s still much to be done
And I can’t go back home again now.
A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE
I arrived late to church this Sunday just past,
No time left to whisper the news.
When I entered the sanctuary, I stood there aghast -
There were new people at my place in my pew!

With impeccable poise there I hid my frustration
At the usurpation of my long-held position.
I’ve been sitting in that spot since before confirmation,
Why weren’t they informed of our seating tradition?

No seats were there left on that side of the aisle,
So, I crossed over, found a place and sat down.
After the service commenced and I’d been there awhile,
I realized there were benefits in moving around.

Seated there one knows exactly when the sermon runs too long,
The place has a very fine view of the clock,
And I could see, when we stood for my least favorite of songs,
The preacher’s robe too short and a hole in his sock.

Next Sunday will find me up front and to the side,
The music director all the better to see,
To discover what transpires behind the piano where she hides
After POUNDING OUT the Doxology.

When exiting the narthex, I gained the Pastor’s ear
And explained my new seating objectives.
He replied that indeed he’d been praying for years
That I’d view worship from a different perspective.
A FARMER’S MUSINIGS
This seed I hold here in my hand
Will surely sprout in clay or sand.
What secret dwells within the thing
Causing life from seeming death to spring?

These seeds shall soon be planted then -
From life - to death - to life again.
The same for weed or flower or tree.
The same, I trust, for you and me.

From seed to fruit by simple chance,
By some mere quirk of happenstance?
That’s not, I think, its cause to grow;
‘Tis the hand of God has made it so.
A NOTE TO WELL WISHERS ON MY BIRTHDAY
The signs are clear, it’s safe to say
I’m growing older day by day.
The hair is white, I squint my eyes,
My pants are now a different size.

I marvel how fast fly the years
Then find upon my cheek two tears,
But these eyes don’t leak because I’m old,
They’re counting friends like you as gold.

For your wishes take my deepest thanks,
I’ll put them in the friendship bank
And draw them out when debts come due
In grateful praise for friends like you.
A SIMPLE SONG
If there’s a story you deem as worthy to tell
Or a thought you fondly wish to convey,
Take here a few pointers which may serve you well
And add meaning to the words that you say.

Don’t think of climbing on your soapbox then,
Standing tall there to pontificate,
For you’ll soon wonder about the reason when
You have failed to communicate.

There’s no need stretching points from dusk ‘till the dawn
Finds the morning sun greeting the dew,
If you do you’ll find listeners nearly all gone
And likely thinking much less of you.

Make your story find value in the ears of a friend -
Your thoughts brightening their day for a while,
Then they’ll listen with interest to the briefer end,
Rewarding well - chosen words with a smile.

Before you start talking or spinning a yarn,
Believe the shorter weave as usually better.
No need to travel “around Robin Hood’s barn”
Or write out a fourteen - page letter.

Just keep it plain for the common folk,