PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … July 19th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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YOU, DO, DO, BAY BLUE

Docile, for a while, see me smile, have no guile,

What a pile, I am vile, start the trial,

Change my style, the second mile, scan the aisle, for my file

Total denial, a revival,

Hit the street, who do you meet, don’t retreat, wash some feet

Face defeat, then delete, from the elite,

Just can’t beat, it’s so neat

Kind of dead, feels like lead, time for bed, where I’m led, underfed, tools in shed,

A sparrow clan, words, man, the lily can.

 

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Published in: on July 19, 2017 at 12:57 pm  Leave a Comment  
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … March 29th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3261)

Hank’s Thanks

Don’t you be a’thinkin’

That I been a’drinkin’

And don’t be fussin’

About my cussin’.

I sure ain’t right

But I done quit the wrong

I saw me a light

The feeling mighty strong.

I now be an Everlaster

A good friend of the Master

Who loved me many days

As I toiled in wicked ways

Far from the strait and narrow

Like a lonesome weary sparrow

No nest for my home

Doomed to ever roam

When I felt death so near

Nose-to-nose with all my fear

I cried for help, like a child

The answer came, tender and mild

Stop runnin’, my son, from my face

Aren’t you tired of this silly race?

Yes, I was exhausted, you see

My hands shaking, I fell to my knees

“God”…is all I said

He did the rest and raised me from the dead

I don’t know nothin’ except this somethin’

One dark, frightening, chilly, lonely, desperate and hopeless night

I saw the light.

In memoriam to Hank Williams

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … October 26th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3106)

pohymn-foxes-have-holes

Foxes Have Holes

Tweedle-dee

He ain’t dumb

Perched by the road

Considered a bum

‘Tis not funny

He needs money

I, in turn

Express concern

He does not require

My hearth or home fire

Simple he is, you see

Frantic to remain free

He trails into the night

With only the stars for light

And nibbles a tiny snack

Lying flat on his back

Staring at the changing moon

Humming an unknown tune

Some say he is a drinker

But perhaps a different thinker

An inner city blight

Or tired of the fight

Possessed by mental disease

Or doing as he may please

We are so very sure

Our path is just and pure

We cling to tried tradition

And rebuke his odd rendition

Unsure of what he may feel

We are certain he will steal

Making the beggar beg some more

Having the means but slamming the door

We decide for him what is best

A family, friends, a feathered nest

He’s a sparrow, needing to fly

Weary of the struggle, the perpetual lie

All he needs is a little cash

A tiny piece of my stash

So will I offer condemnation?

Or allow my heart consideration

Foxes have holes, said the carpenter’s son

But I sleep alone … when the day is done

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Jesonian: Reverend Meningsbee (Part 14) His Eye Is On the Sparrow… July 31st, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3019)

Reverend Meningsbee

It was a merciful Monday.

The phone didn’t ring, no one visited and Meningsbee had a chance to sit alone in the parsonage and muse the happenings in his life.

He kept thinking about that scripture: “God sees the sparrow and we are worth many sparrows.”

He roamed the house talking to himself, allowing the ideas stuck in his head to gain air instead of suffocating in his brain or struggling for dominance.

He sorted through things. He opened the door for some healing.

After the cleansing Monday, he was ready for a terrific Tuesday.

Phone calls came from congregation members, saying how much the service had meant to them and how freeing it was to realize that it’s all right to have doubts–as long as you don’t lie about them or assume they are true.

But then came worrisome Wednesday. It began with a knock on the door. Patrick Swanson was there, accusing Meningsbee of sharing their private conversation about the finances of the church with his new congregation out at the Holiday Inn Express.

Meningsbee was so glad that he had remained faithful to his mute position. He could honestly say that he had said nothing to anyone.

Patrick did not believe him. He explained that he had a mess on his hands, because somehow or another, the church folk had discovered his feelings about the old church and were not very appreciative of his plans.

Meningsbee listened quietly but didn’t respond. It wasn’t his business.

At length, Patrick gave up and turned to walk away, only pausing to say, “Word has it that you don’t even believe in God. Is that right?”

It seemed that this dear brother wanted a fight. But thanks to merciful Monday and terrific Tuesday, Meningsbee was more prepared for worrisome Wednesday.

He replied, “My dear friend, my beliefs are a matter of public record.”

With this, Meningsbee quietly shut the door and resumed his life.

The rest of the week was blessed with happenings and intervals of joyous nothingness. That is, until Sunday morning arrived.

Meningsbee was excited–because last Sunday, he had handed out little notes to twenty-two members of the congregation. When they peered at him, wondering what it was all about, he had replied, “Read the note. It’ll tell you what to do.”

So he quickly dressed, ate a light breakfast and headed out the door, pausing as he gazed at the porch swing.

And there she was–the young girl he had met at the motel in South Dakota, cuddled up on the swing with her little daughter, sound asleep.

“Kitty?” he said quietly, hoping he had remembered her name correctly. She woke up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, eased her feet to the ground, and launched into her story.

She had lost her job and therefore could not afford the motel anymore. She got his address from the front desk clerk, and since he was the only person who had been nice to her, she grabbed her daughter, Hapsy, and hitch-hiked to Garsonville.

She didn’t know what to do, so she chased the last place that she felt love.

Likewise, Meningsbee didn’t know what to do.

He explained that he was on his way to church and invited her. She replied, “If they don’t mind my old, stinky jeans…”

Meningsbee laughed. “I think they’re just old.”

They headed off to his car. Meningsbee held the door and welcomed the two of them inside. He picked up a couple of treats at the Donut Barn on the way.

As they munched, he wondered to himself whether this was a gift from God … or a mis-delivered package.

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … January 27th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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PoHymn Isabella

Sixteen Plus One

Looking for just the right fella

Is my dear friend, Isabella

Constrained within the narrow alley

Betwixt the mountain and the valley

She refuses to merely resort

Desiring a better report

Keeping the wolf from the door

 

Considered sweet and light

Her brain can be a fright

Ablaze with choices to make

Trying to escape the fake

Lurking in the beanstalk climb

 

Then a nasty wisp of fate

At a mall with a greedy mate

Leaves her hands caught quite red

Her soul cold and feeling dead

Wishing to give it back

 

But God gave a voice

To the sparrow, a choice

Sing to find your mind

Laugh to release the kind

And soar above the damage.

 

So after memories sixteen

She faces another fresh scene

Is she child or woman born?

Closer to one, the other torn

She bleeds to know the ending.

 

But life is much less eager

The answers are quite meager

Just slow down, Burning Star

Tuck your dreams in a jar

Where you can view them before fading.

 

So happy journey, princess dear

Relax in the warmth of your good cheer

God has given you everything

He’s just waiting to hear you sing.

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant… September 9th, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2687)

PoHymn Sept 9

Yada, Yada, Yo

Behold the beautiful tree

Was it made for me?

The sky, ever so blue

That was just for you

The fish like to swim

To bring glory to the heavenly Him

And the stars twinkle above

As a tribute to His love

God must love us dear

So calm your aching fear

Yes, we are arrogant asses

Clumped in our selfish masses

Promoting a God to our demand

Enforcing His rules as holy command

To confirm our eternal worth

And espouse a spiritual birth

While ignoring the flourishing flower

We insist we’ve greater power

And shooting the sparrow from the sky

Forgetting the Father counts them on high

While spitting upon our Mother Maker

Failing to be a giver, only a taker

For if God created it all

And we created Eden’s fall

Are we not the planet’s pestilence?

As we persist in our obstinance?

Truly. humility is required of those who rule

Be it God … or any earthly fool.

 

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Earthy … April 22, 2013

(1,859)

mother earthAn interesting thought: what if it ends up that God welcomes people into heaven based upon how they honored the earth?

What if all the religious practice, doctrines, commandments, orders of service, liturgy and religious shenanigans were unimportant, and what really matters is what we’ve done with our home–earth?

There is basis for it, you know. The Bible says  “the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof.” Jesus said that the lily is more beautiful than the wealth of kings. He pointed out that not a single sparrow could fall to the earth without God’s full attention. Of course, we should never forget that even the Lord’s Prayer, which is a basic staple of religious function, states clearly that God’s will is to be done “on earth as it is in heaven.”

Yes, what if Father God is most concerned about how we treat Mother Earth?

We do know that He arrived to find earth without form and void. Can I be honest with you? Sometimes that’s the way it appears to me. It just seems that nothing is coming together correctly and often no one cares.

But rather than giving up on it, conceding defeat and accepting it as formless and empty, God moved across the face of the waters. Is that what He wants me to do? Does He want me to leave my perch of piety and interact with the earth with my presence? Am I sitting around waiting for Him to change the world while He is waiting for me to do the same?

And then, God said, “Let there be light.” Am I going to be evaluated on how much light I bring to the darkness? Am I going to be questioned about how I treated the earth, loved the people of the earth and even about how I took care of myself while on earth?  And do I have the patience to work with this habitat around me until something good happens? (Of course, I would still need to be able to discern good and bad.)

On this Earth Day, it is well worth considering that perhaps this entire adventure we call human life is about producing evidence that what we feel and believe actually can affect our environment.

I’m not so sure a prayer opens the gates of heaven. I’m not positive that just believing in God, without loving people and honoring Mother Earth, will make me a candidate for eternal bliss.

So while we believe in grace and we’re thankful for salvation, it certainly wouldn’t hurt us to take a moment to honor Earth by bringing the light of hope, the presence of our passion and the willingness to see good … to this ailing planet.

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