Poetry to Bless

Poetry is a relatively new interest I've discovered.  Even though I wrote more than my share of ditties when making cards growing up, poetry isn't something that ever appealled to me as a young girl.   As an adult, however, I am enjoying a wide variety of verse on a fairly regular basis.  Isn't it amazing how God puts so many seeds of interest in us?  Some of these seeds sprout and grow right from the very beginning while others slowly take root, quietly spring up, and take a lifetime to develop.  Isn't God good?  He is revealing new things that He has put in me every day.  What a wondrous gift it is to belong to Him and to be in His loving care. 

Please enjoy the following poems by Edgar A. Guest with me.  The first poem encourages us to enjoy Life fully, right now.  Poem number two is "just for fun".  It tells of "cannin' time".  Oh, how it made me want to get out the canner and jars, already.  As I read the lines of this poem, I was reminded that maintaining our garden is worth all of the time and sweat.  Winter's cold winds will be tempered with the warmth of food lovingly prepared during late summer's "cannin' time".  Edgar Guest perfectly describes the sights, sounds, and smells I remember in the kitchen of my childhood.  Even though helping my mother can wasn't something I regularly participated in, the smells and sounds still fill my memory.   Let's share a prayer for those dear poets who inspire, encourage, and entertain us with their writings.  I can't begin to tell how many times I have been guided and comforted by the lines of a poem; more often than any sermon I know.  And I've been blessed to hear many marvelous, annointed messages.  There's just something powerful about poetry.  It's like sitting by a bubbling brook and listening to the water flowing by.  As the words of my favorite poems flow through my mind, my body begins to relax just as it does when listening to the waters in a stream or brook.  God bless the godly poet.

Thank You, Lord for men and women who take up their pen and verses write~Their words inspire us and give us insight~into treasures of life~what is holy and right~We are blessed by their sharing, their penning, their telling~As we read, we are touched by the scenes that they share~We are moved by the truths and the depth of Your care~Thank You Lord for the poet, may they know more of You~as You lead them and guide them while they tell us of You.

Blessed Mama

Life

                                                        Life is a gift to be used every day,

Not to be smothered and hidden away;

Isn’t a thing to be stored in the chest

Where you gather your keepsakes and treasure your best;

Isn’t a joy to be sipped now and then

And promptly put back in a dark place again.

Life is a gift that the humblest may boast of

And one that the humblest may well make the most of.

Get out and live it each hour of the day,

Wear it and use it as much as you may;

Don’t keep it in niches and corners and grooves,

You’ll find that in service its beauty improves.

~Edgar Guest

 

CANNING TIME

~Edgar A. Guest

There’s a wondrous smell of spices,

In the kitchen, most bewitchin’;

There are fruits cut into slices

That just set the palate itchin’

There’s the sound of spoon on platter

And the rattle and the clatter;

And a bunch of kids are hastin’

To the splendid joy of tastin’:

It’s the fragrant time of year

When fruit-cannin’ days are here.

There’s a good wife gayly smilin’

And perspirin’ some, and tirin’;

And while jar on jar she’s pilin’

And the necks o’ them she’s wirin’

I’m a-sittin’ here an’ dreamin’
Of the kettles that are steamin’,

And the cares that have been troublin’

All have vanished in the bubblin’.

I am happy that I’m here

At the cannin’ time of year.

Lord, I’m sorry for the feller

That is missin’ all the hissin’

Of the juices, red and yeller,

And can never sit and listen

To the rattle and the clatter

Of the sound of spoon on platter.

I am sorry for the single,

For they miss the thrill and tingle

Of the splendid time of year

When the cannin’ days are here.