Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Saturday, November 18, 2023

If I Should Die Tonight

 note: Following today's post, I will take my usual holiday break. I'll be back in January with a brand new series. Today's post is a snatch of poetry. Between blog series, I like to throw some in. This particular piece was written when I was sixteen. I'm a different man now than I was then in many ways but I still have this same desire - I want my life to count for Christ. 


If I Should Die Tonight

 

If I should die tonight

I wish in someone’s heart

Would be a bit of sadness

Because we had to part

 

If I should die tonight

I wish in someone’s eye

A tear or two would form and drop

Because I was not nigh

 

If I should die tonight

I wonder, would they care?

The ones my life has touched

Would they notice I’m not there?

 

If I should die tonight

Would someone cry for me?

Would I be missed on this old earth

Would some weep bitterly?

 

If I should die tonight

Would my presence be sore missed?

Have I influenced enough of them

Am I on someone’s list?

 

If I should die tonight

Would someone say, “Oh no,

A force for right is gone from sight”

Would someone care below?

 

Oh, God, please help me live

While under this sun’s light

That some would care that I had gone

If I should die tonight

Saturday, March 18, 2023

What Are a Mom and Dad?

 note: From time to time, generally between series, I like to share some poetry. I wrote today's selection at the request of my high school senior class and read it at commencement.


What Are a Mom and Dad?

 

What are a mom and dad?

Are they just instruments

To clothe my back, and feed my face

And fulfill all my wants?

 

Are they just here because

I happened to be born

On accident to them

One cold and drear May morn?

 

Are they just here because

A whim God had one day

To give them Bill or Jen

Or Tom to show the way?

 

No, parents are on purpose;

God knew just what He did

When He sent me to stay

With you while I’m a kid.

 

He knew that I would need

A dad to point the way,

To warn of dangers out in front

And sin that doesn’t pay.

 

He knew I’d need a mom

To love and cherish me;

To pick me up when down

And bandage my skinned knee.

 

He knew I’d need a hero

When tiny steps were mine.

Every act was right;

In you no wrong I’d find.

 

You’d fix my broken bike,

Repair the slipping chain,

Or put the window back

I’d broken, whole again.

 

He knew I’d need some firmness.

He knew I’d need some grace.

He knew I’d need some courage

Life’s struggles here to face.

 

He knew I’d need some wisdom

To make a choice or two;

He knew some understanding

I’d need to get from you.

 

He knew I’d need someone

To stand beside my bed

And put a cold washcloth

Upon my aching head.

 

He knew I’d need a soothing voice

When cloudy is the day.

He knew I’d need a loving touch

For thorns along the way.

 

He knew I’d need a hand

To hold on tight to mine

While reading from some book

A bed-time story rhyme.

 

He knew I’d need someone

To come and pray with me

When I was scared to sleep

Because just dark I’d see.

 

He knew I’d need a shoulder

To lean and cry upon

When no one seemed to care,

And life just wasn’t fun.

 

He knew I’d need some help

In learning how to write

My ABC’s and D’s

When school first came in sight.

 

He knew I’d need a hand

To wipe away the tears

That come from time to time

While walking down the years.

 

He knew that some assistance

In learning how to drive

A car would be quite helpful

In keeping me alive.

 

He knew I’d need a person

To buy my first Bible;

He knew I’d need good hands

To mold me while pliable.

 

He knew I’d need protection

From bad and scary things.

He knew I’d need some help

In choosing wedding rings.

 

He knew I’d need someone

To say, “How nice!”, and “Fine!”

When crayons worked on paper.

(It’s nice. Who needs the lines?)

 

He knew I’d need finances

A wad to sponge upon,

And though that wad was small

Yet still I had my fun.

 

He knew I’d need a mom

To teach me how to fix

A rent, a rip, or tear,

Stitch by crooked stitch.

 

He knew I’d need a hand

To teach me how to throw

A softball o’er the plate

Or one made out of snow.

 

He knew I’d need some people

To always love me e’en

If I began to act

Like every other teen.

 

He knew I’d need a mom

To finally put an end

To blissful morning sleep

When I hit snooze again.

 

He knew I’d need some parents

To teach me things ‘bout life,

Like how to live and love and learn

And still stay man and wife.

 

He knew I’d need a dad

To look at me, and go,

“This will not be a habit!”

While shelling out the dough

For speeding tickets gotten.

“A habit, Dad? Oh, no!”

 

He knew I’d need some help

In learning how to scrub

The floor, and clean the sink,

And wash and rinse the tub.

 

He knew a set of parents

Would necessary be

For my advent on Earth

And also spiritually.

 

He knew I’d need a mom

To chaperone the class,

And when you asked me why,

“Of course, the teacher asked!”

 

He knew I’d need a daddy

To ask, “Where’d grandma go?”

Or take me in a boat,

And teach me how to row.

 

Or take a fishing pole

In search of waiting fish;

Together, blow out candles

And make a birthday wish.

 

He knew I’d need a mom

To spot the unwashed dish,

And so build character

(Although against my wish.)

 

He knew I’d need someone

To spank the back of me

Or I’d still be the terror

I was when I was three.

 

He knew I’d need someone

To take me to the zoo

To see the lions and tigers

And even a kangaroo.

 

He knew I’d need some loving.

He knew I’d need some prayer.

He knew I’d need some discipline.

He placed it in your care.

 

He knew I’d need some guidance

If I’m to e’er become

What God made me to be,

Or e’en just of that, some.

 

And so He gave me you,

The best a kid could want.

For better parents never

Would I e’er have to hunt.

 

You see, dear Mom and Dad,

All these things I read

Are true about you two

As everybody’s said.

 

He knew I’d need the best

That any kid could get,

And so He gave me you;

I’m wholly in your debt.

 

Never kid could have

A better mom and dad.

You are the best there is;

Just awesome, totally rad.

 

-by Tom Brennan

May 31, 1991


Tom and Judy Brennan
August, 2022



Saturday, July 23, 2022

Needs

 Note: My first attempts at writing were poems, mostly in high school and college. From time to time, generally between series, I like to bring one to this blog. Today's poem was written on July 4, 1990 at Mt. Salem Revival Grounds in West Virginia. It was the summer before my senior year of high school. I was traveling with Evangelist Joe Boyd. We had just come back to home base after three weeks on the road holding revivals. Even now, over three decades later, I am unable to share the context behind this, but it is real and raw to me still. After an intense prayer session, I sat on a leafy hillside with a notebook, and this poem poured out of me. Curiously enough, eight years later to the day, I met my wife on the same spot that I wrote this.

Stay tuned. A new blog series launches next week.

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Needs

I need to walk and cry.
I need to sit and weep.
I need to pace and sigh.
I need to hurt a heap.

I need to ache inside.
I need to burdened be.
I need a tear to stride
Down my face slowly.

I need a load to carry.
I need a pain to bear.
I need a hope to bury.
I need a grief to share.

I need a broken heart
I can leave with You.
I need the bitter part
To keep me close to You.




Sunday, October 17, 2021

Mingled

 Note: Thirty-four years ago, I began writing poetry. From time to time, generally between blog series, I like to share one with you. Today's poem I wrote my sophomore year of college. I was struggling a bit, remembering a painful period in high school, and associating that with my current arc. It speaks of how I would cry as I walked my paper route of an afternoon after school. We so often minimize/ignore pain. I believe/d that is unhealthy. One of the ways I've dealt with pain in my life is to write. Such was the case with this one, a meditation on tears.

Stay tuned; a new blog series launches next week
.

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Mingled

How oft have I mingled my tears

With rain that came from the sky?

How oft through my highschool years

Did thunder drown out a cry?


The salt and the fresh on my cheek

As if they'd the perfect right

To merge into one angry streak

Stinging my face and the night?


How oft did a snowflake drift down

To melt at the touch of a tear?

On leaves all crumpled and brown

A darkening stain would appear.



How oft on a sweat-soaked face

Smudged with newspaper ink

Streaks from each eye would race

While eyelide rapidly blinked?


How oft would the bite of the wind

Whip a drop past my ear?

I'd glance, thinking to find

Rain, but be blurred with a tear.


Snowflakes, raindrops, and sweat,

Sunshine, night time, and dew,

Pine needles, gravel - I'll bet

Tears will still mingle with you.


-Tom Brennan

September 7, 1992


Saturday, May 22, 2021

Of Least Resistance

Note: Thirty-four years ago, I began writing poetry. From time to time, generally between blog series, I like to share one with you. Today's poem I wrote just prior to finishing high school. I was contemplating life, what kind of man I would become, and the part doing the difficult thing would play in that. Stay tuned; a new blog series launches next week.


Of  Least  Resistance

The other day, while on a stroll
I spied a rippling brook
Where tender little trout and perch
Await the fisher's hook

It coursed along, 'tween stones and things
Meandered here and there
Beneath a bridge, around a rock
Or made some tree roots bare

I turned upon a whim
Traversed its winding path
This laughing brook enchanted me
From scenes of former wrath

It gurgled merrily on
As if without a care
I followed it from stone to stone
We wandered here and there


Then 'midst the sunlight and the leaves
The pebbles and the trout
I realized what that guy had meant
When he was talking 'bout
The similarities between
Bad men and brooks, no doubt

He said one day, upon a chance
That which I'd pondered late
"The path of least resistance
Does not make rivers straight"

It makes them change their course
Avoid the rocks and trees
Wind in and out and back and forth
Like flights of bumblebees

And so it is with men
Who throughout days of life
Have chosen to avoid
The hardships and the strife

They wander here and there
Just like that little brook
The path of least resistance
Makes a man a crook

- by Tom Brennan
April 1, 1991