PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … October 11th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3456)

What That Dude Sees in Me

I am not what you think I am

Always good or mostly bad

I am more than I appear to be

Sometimes happy, often sad

I am a believing soul

Filled with guilty doubt

I am usually half, rarely whole

Plagued by this childish pout

I know more than I recall

Fat I am, insisting I’m tall

My knack for offering sexual pleasure

Is rather limited, not beyond measure

I’m cranky when sweet is required

Full of fuss, rarely desired

I believe in myself to a fault

While questioning you and your result

I’m never nasty, but tart and sour

Squabbling over minutes, I then lose my hour

I am my father’s son and my mother’s little boy

I’m reminded things are good

But refuse to walk in joy

Yet yesterday a whisper caught my ear

I mustered the function to stop and hear

You were in need, I understood

Reaching out, did what I could

You called me an angel–I had to smile

Recounting my temper and fits of guile

Even though I’m riddled with delusion

I was truly uplifted by your conclusion

So a prayer I offered to the open sky

A humble plea, a dreamer’s cry

Lord, guide this chump to be

What that dude sees in meDonate ButtonThe producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this inspirational opportunity

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … May 10th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3302)

Mother

There truly is no other

Quite like your earthly mother

She struggles with her life

Lover, healer, giver, wife

Pushing past the pain

The temptation to go insane

She refuses to abandon and roam

But clings to heart and home

Yet there is a human sacrifice

Spilling sugar and sprinkling spice

Life is never what it may seem

Crushed feelings dishonor the dream

But she makes a casserole from the pieces

Her sense of purpose never ceases

She believes in you–no question or doubt

But takes the time to challenge the pout

Year after year a repeating sequel

Working harder but never an equal

For sometimes she feels very sad

When good mingles too much with the bad

But then in a gasp of humanity

She triumphs without vanity

She loves you–yes, you silly one

She tries to make a rainy day fun

So once a year you honor this dear

And ponder amazing things

In awe of the spread of her wings

Donate Button

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this inspirational opportunity

 


 

Peter Thomas … April 21, 2013

(1,858)

I speak boldly in the shadows and whisper in the light

I proclaim the goodness of God, yet pout when it rains

I am a fisher of men, trapped in my own net

I pray for miracles while growing weary in well-doing

I am a voice crying in the wilderness, complaining of a sore throat

I hurl rocks at the castle and quickly run away before the giant eats me

I love my neighbor in theory as I challenge him on the facts

I am outraged by the atheist while frequently ignoring God

I believe in the whole Bible and dust it off each month

I am the beckoned explainer who arrives confused

I am the singer of the hymn and the doubter of Him

I am an insecure expression of belief

I am a concession of faith

I am Peter, the preacher

And Thomas, the tongue-tied

I am both, as ordained to be

For too much faith makes me obnoxious

And an abundance of doubt renders me powerless

I am as God would have me

Sentenced to be an exclamation point

Sitting next to a question mark

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

Three Ninnies… April 13, 2013

(1,850)

lily

Worry, scurry and flurry

Always in a hurry

Running to and fro

Grumbling as they go

Afraid to take it slow

Wanting you to know

There is pain in their gain

Fretting in the brain

Insisting life is rough

The path to success quite tough

Demanding we all admire

Is what they do require

Life on earth is hard, they say

Even anxious as they pray

Worry, scurry and flurry

Your future is truly blurry

When always on the run

Refusing to have much fun

Consider the lily, how they sprout

They do not toil, they do not pout

So stop the worry

Rest the scurry

And let the flurry cease

For God loves you, my nervous ninnies

And wants to grant you peace.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

%d bloggers like this: