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Withered Hands I Have Held

Withered hands I have held as they belonged to someone so very dear.
I held them as time went on for a good while and never thought anything negative.
But love was the main thought to say the least.
The withered hands belonged to my sainted mother.
In her youth, she had strong hands and welded a strong punch or stroke across me.
I needed the chastisement; so lovingly Mom gave it to me.
There was love that was given and I am a better man today because of her chastening.
I believe the day before Mom passed away I held her right hand and asked her if by squeezing mine if she knew who it was that was there.
Mom´s withered hand squeezed mine.
After the next day she was gone but I will always remember those withered hands that loved me.
(© Poeticbearlovestowrite 2014)





I should have loved you more.
Should have made you happy to keep you from walking out the door.

Now, my heart is laying on the floor.
I wish we could recapture the good times we had before.

So sorry I made you mad.
I miss the love we had.
Please come back never again will I be bad!

It was just one drunken night.
I slipped and fell.
My best friend ran back to tell.
It’s not all true!
He lied because he wanted you, too!

Honey, he set me up in a hotel with a mickey drink and a prostitute so I could not think.
This is what he wanted you to see,
so you would leave me!
That rotten bastard is the cause of the loss of love and trust.
He destroyed the best part of



Wait On God

My soul awaits calmly alone,
My salvation does come from Him;
Because I know He does condone,
Blessings fill my cup to the brim.

He is my rock and my Savior,
My stronghold and not forsaken;
He looks upon me with favor,
I cannot be gravely shaken.

How long will all of you attack?
And how long will you try to kill;
For it is wisdom that you lack,
As well as lacking any skill.

As though He was a leaning wall.
Or a sagging fence that you hold;
In danger of starting to fall.
Because of being very old.

So they plan on forcing Him out,
To dethrone they are glad to lie;
They bless with lips and tongue but doubt,
With a cursed heart that does ask why.

Wait calmly for the Lord alone,
As from Him comes all of my hope;
That is flowing down from His throne;
To reassure while I cope.

He is my Savior and my rock,
My stronghold a mighty fortress;
I hear His clear voice as I talk,
And forgives me as I confess.

My glory and my foundation,
He gives refuge and my strength;
Depends on God for salvation,
Persevering at any length.

I will trust Him all of the time,
So pour out your heart you people;
While it keeps me from the crime,
That would be against the Gospel.

Copyright © 2014 Richard Newton Sherrer




IT CAME AFTER 6 days of grueling work, 6 days of assiduous effort under the scorching ball of sun, 6 days of unrelenting tasks executed at electric pace, 6 days of insufficient meals blended with stingy amounts of obnoxious coffee, 6 days of absolution from amicable domains of family, 6 days of sedulous expeditions in packed to capacity commuter trains, 6 days of deprivation from a ravishing game of long tennis, 6 days of obliteration from revitalizing spray of the ocean, 6 days of conscious efforts to wear feckless and spurious smiles, 6 days of wandering in a claustrophobic ambience of lackluster paper, 6 days of monotonous salute to the disillusioning supremo, 6 days of dedicated projects; with eyes incorrigibly glued to the computer, 6 days of incessant perspiration dribbling down crisp shirt, 6 days of onerous struggle to compete with intellectuals, 6 days of nostalgia for peace; weighing heavily on mind, 6 days of obstreperous noise piercing through soft ear, 6 days of aching feet; with spasmodically restless back, 6 days of impatient sigh's and a perpetual longing for melodious sleep. The seventh day finally did arrive, I drew back multiple blinds in my apartment house , to let sizzling rays of dawn fumigate my persona, slept late in the morning; oblivious to hassles of mundane work, consumed barrels of enticing beer; nibbling fresh nut on the silver sands of the beach, languidly strolled a few miles with the pungent spray of the water, stimulating my dreary eyes; as i candidly prayed to the Creator, to bless me and my family with bountiful more Sunday's.


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