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Poems that send darts🎯to touch our hearts❤️
In the quiet corridors of a humble heart,
Where true faith whispers, a silent art.
Not in loud proclamations does it reside,
But in gentle acts, its presence implied.
"If you think you're religious, you're probably not,"
For true Christianity is in the deeds quietly wrought.
In the shadow of service, in love's tender embrace,
Following the path Jesus did trace.
Serving others, without seeking the light,
In the calm of the day, in the still of the night.
It's in the hands that feed, in the eyes that listen,
In the steps that follow, a mission christened.
For in the fabric of the humble, the divine is sewn,
Not in grandeur, but in kindness shown.
The essence of faith, in actions soft-spoken,
In every promise kept, every bond unbroken.
True Christianity, a quiet, humble service,
A journey inward, a purposeful purchase.
In the footsteps of Jesus, a path to emulate,
A call to love, to serve, to navigate.
So let our actions speak, in whispers true,
A testament of faith, in all we do.
For in the heart of service, quietly, profoundly,
The spirit of true Christianity is found, resoundingly.
February 19, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In the warmth of homes, where love and chaos blend,
No perfect family stands, but on each other, we depend.
With laughter and tears, our broken pieces we mend,
In our imperfect bonds, a message of love we send.
Amongst us walk, no perfect people, but seekers all the same,
Bearing burdens, hiding pains, playing life's relentless game.
Yet in our shared journey, there's no room for shame,
For we are loved by a Perfect God, who calls us each by name.
But we have a Perfect God, in His grace, we find our peace,
In His unwavering love, our searching souls release.
Amen, we whisper, in a prayer that does not cease,
For in His perfection, our imperfections find their ease.
So let us walk together, in our imperfect state,
Guided by His perfect light, through every twist of fate.
In every church, every home, let His love permeate,
For with our Perfect God, a perfect love we create.
February 19, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In skies above, on Memorial Day's light,
I served the aisles, a flight attendant's plight.
The first row held a passenger, a sight so rare,
Beside him, a dog with a valorous air.
Corporal Kiddy, her name, a Marine so bold,
Twelve years of service, her story untold.
With fur not adorned in medals or lace,
But with honor and courage, she held her place.
Retirement beckoned, her duty now done,
A life of battles, now set to the sun.
I seized the moment, a tribute to cast,
For her years of service, vast.
The cabin listened, as I spoke of her deed,
An announcement for a hero, indeed.
Applause thundered, a sound so profound,
For Corporal Kiddy, respect was bound.
At the sound, she leaped, a lap to find,
Accepting homage from those so kind.
Not just a dog, but a Marine so grand,
On her final flight, to retirement land.
A tale of loyalty, courage, and might,
Of Corporal Kiddy, on that Memorial flight.
A flight attendant's story, of a day so bright,
When honor and applause took to the night.
February 18, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
I don't know what you are doing. I understand what you have done.
You have forgiven me of my sins through the sacrifice of your Son
There is no way to thank you for
Your Gift and the blessings that continue to flow
I can only tell of Your Love wherever I go
February 18, 2024
MarkWaldrop
Is my memory failing as I age
Is my mind trapped in a cage
It has been brought to my attention that Memory is dependent on retention
I have lost my keys as most of us have
My mind wandered when placed there
Keeping my mind in the now not hampered by the future or past
Will sharpen my memory and recollection that will surely last
I have often forgotten a name when being introduced
The reason being I was not paying attention to the truth
My memory fades and many mistakes are made
When I find myself in a rush my thoughts are delayed
To sharpen my memory I need to
Pay close attention
Slowing down and clearing the mind will bring less tension
February 18, 2023
MarkWaldrop
In sacred flames, unbound by earthly laws,
Where God's own fire illuminates the cause,
A testament of faith, so pure, so grand,
In holy fire, on sacred, hallowed land.
Upon the ground where Moses stood in awe,
A bush alight, yet unscathed, without flaw.
A symbol, deep, of God's enduring grace,
Where flames enlighten, yet they leave no trace.
And Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, too,
In furnace fierce, a fiery trial they knew.
Yet not alone, amidst the blaze they stood,
For with them was the Son of God, so good.
Their faith, a shield, against the consuming fire,
In God’s own presence, lifted ever higher.
On holy ground, their trust was their attire,
Unburnt, untouched, by earthly flame or pyre.
This divine fire, it does not destroy,
But strengthens faith, in every girl and boy.
A beacon, bright, through history's vast expanse,
Inviting all, to take that faithful stance.
So let us walk, in steps of those before,
On holy ground, where sacred fires soar.
With God as guide, through trials, we’ll endure,
In His embrace, our faith remains secure.
February 18, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
What is my reason for arising at the break of dawn
Will I be mad at the world or Happy singing a song
I have the power to determine my mood
To choose happiness or continue the fude
Happiness is Blessed with a Peaceful state of mind
Due to the calmness of my soul residing inside
Jesus brings Peace and Happiness within
The solution to the state I seek is inviting Jesus in
February 17, 2024
MarkWaldrop
In the realm of waves, both near and far,
It's not the Rig, but the Antenna, star,
A truth profound, in radio's art,
In crafting signals, that's where you start.
With solder, wire, and hands so skilled,
It's not what's bought, but what's self-built,
The heart of communication, clear and true,
Lies in the Antenna, reaching skies so blue.
For every ham, enthusiast, and sage,
Who turns the dial, or sets the stage,
Knows well the secret, old yet bold,
It's not the machine, but the reach, gold.
In the dance of frequencies, high and low,
It's the Antenna's song, that steals the show,
A crafted beam, a loop, a whip,
Guiding the waves on their journey, a trip.
So heed this wisdom, clear and bright,
In your pursuit of the signal's flight,
It's not the Rig, with knobs and lights,
But the Antenna, in heights, ignites.
In this endeavor, patience is a friend,
For every build, every tweak, lends,
To the magic of the airwaves, wide and vast,
It's the Antenna's tale, that forever will last.
February 17, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
Grandma whispered wisdom, soft and true,
Underneath a sky so vast and blue.
"Brush your teeth every day," she'd say,
A simple act to keep the shadows at bay.
"And hitch your wagon to a star,
Let it guide you, near and far.
For dreams are lights in the night's embrace,
Leading us to our rightful place."
In her eyes, a twinkling spark,
A guiding light in the dark.
Her words, a beacon ever bright,
Guiding me through the toughest night.
So I brush my teeth, and then I dream,
Beneath the star's gentle gleam.
Grandma's advice, a cherished gift,
My heart and soul, it does uplift.
For in her wisdom, I find my way,
Through every night and every day.
Her love, a star I hitched my ride,
With grandma's wisdom as my guide.
February 16, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
Advice give to me by Grandma Waldrop upon departing for College
In the jungles deep and wide,
Where mysteries and dangers hide,
A tiny soul was found inside
A foxhole, where she did abide.
Smoky, of the Yorkshire breed,
Tiny, but mighty in deed.
In World War II, a friend in need,
A soldier's companion, lead by creed.
For $6.44, a bond was sold,
Between a Corporal brave and bold,
And Smoky, whose story would unfold,
In battles fierce and nights so cold.
She lived a life of soldier's fare,
Shared meals, and slept in Wynne's care.
No official badge did she wear,
Yet her courage was beyond compare.
Twelve missions high, in backpack stowed,
Above the clouds, her spirit glowed.
150 air raids, the danger sowed,
Yet by her side, safety flowed.
She warned of shells, a guardian light,
In darkest hours, a beacon bright.
Her heart, her spirit, fierce in fight,
Guiding through the perilous night.
A performer too, with tricks to show,
Entertaining troops, a morale bow.
In hospitals, her presence would glow,
Healing hearts, with her spirited flow.
Back to the U.S., hidden away,
In an oxygen mask, she made her stay.
Her legacy, in hearts, would sway,
Entertaining, healing, every day.
For ten more years, she gave her love,
To veterans, with a grace from above.
Her life, a testament, to the power of
The smallest being, with the heart of a dove.
Smoky, the first Therapy Dog, named,
In history, her legacy framed.
A tiny warrior, fiercely acclaimed,
Her spirit, forever untamed.
So remember the dog who braved the fight,
With soldiers, through the darkest night.
Her courage, love, and shining light,
A beacon of hope, forever bright.
February 16, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
