About Mark Waldrop

I hope you enjoy reading these poems as much as I enjoyed writing them. Thank you for visiting the site. Poems that send darts🎯to touch our hearts❤️

Ballad of Annie Oakley

In the heart of Ohio, 'neath the wide Buckeye sky,
Was born Annie Oakley, in eighteen-sixty, nigh.
In a log cabin dwelling, near North Star's gentle light,
Phoebe Ann Moses, a star in the night.

Her childhood was marked by scarcity and loss,
Her father, a farmer, died from frost's cruel cross.
In a terrible storm, he met his untimely fate,
Leaving young Phoebe to wrestle with a heavy weight.

A sister too, in time, would pass away,
Adding to the hardships of Annie's early day.
But from these trials, a sharpshooter arose,
With a rifle in hand, she faced life's imposing foes.

At the tender age of eight, or so the tale is told,
Annie learned to hunt, brave and bold.
She'd shoot with a grace, so natural and free,
Supporting her kin with game from field and tree.

Quail, rabbit, squirrel, her aim always true,
In Cincinnati, at fifteen, her renown only grew.
A shooting match won, against sharpshooter Butler,
Her future husband, none could out-flutter.

Annie's skill was such, surplus meat she'd provide,
To markets and hotels, her fame did glide.
Her mother, resourceful, sold the game with pride,
Ensuring their survival, with Annie by their side.

Then came the year, eighteen eighty-five,
Buffalo Bill's show, where legends come alive.
Annie Oakley, the star, in a spectacle so grand,
Joined the Rough Riders, a rifle in hand.

Sitting Bull, the great chief, with respect so rare,
Named her Watanya Cicilla, in the open air.
"Little Sure Shot," a title of honor and might,
In Buffalo Bill's Wild West, she was a brilliant sight.

Outshooting Cody, winning hearts far and wide,
Annie's fame soared, on a celestial tide.
Admired by all, from McCoys to Hatfields,
In an era of feuds, her legend never yields.

But time marches on, as all stories tell,
In nineteen twenty-six, Little Sure Shot fell.
November's chill wind whispered a mournful sigh,
For Annie Oakley, under the Buckeye sky.

Her legacy lives on, in tales and in song,
A woman of courage, undaunted and strong.
In the heart of Ohio, 'neath the wide Buckeye sky,
Lives the spirit of Oakley, forever to fly.

January 29, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop

The Old Drive-In

The Old Dive-In brings back fond memories of yesterday 
Sitting in a warm car a great place to make hay. 

Concessions just a short step away
Hot popcorn cheeseburgers little to pay

A night out of the house spelled freedom for us
The big named stars on the big screen were a must

The fond memories of yesteryear bring joy, sometimes a tear
Thank God our memories last throughout the years

January 28, 2024
MarkWaldrop

Time is Love

Painting Gunars Cakste
We are all allotted a certain amount of time
Knowing the exact number would be a crime

Being young, my hourglass has what God will allow
Grandpa's hourglass is close to being  empty now

God has a plan for each of our lives
Living in His Will brings less strife

Thank you, God, for Your Plan that I might see
And giving me Grandpa, who always loves me

January 27, 2024
MarkWaldrop

The Master speaks

In tempests wild, when life's storms surge,
Rest in the arms of the wind's great urge.
The Master speaks amidst the gale,
His voice a harbor, strong and hale.

"Peace be still," He whispers soft,
In His embrace, aloft we're loft.
Through raging winds and pouring rain,
His presence soothes, eases the pain.

Hold fast to promises, forever true,
He'll never leave, always with you.
In darkest nights, in fiercest squall,
He stands steadfast, through it all.

His promise rings, a beacon bright,
In stormy seas, He is our light.
Never forsaken, never alone,
In His love, our fears are overthrown.

January 27, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop

Lost In Time

I faintly remember the distant past.
Smells of the dusty road, the creek, and newly mown grass.

Smells didn't matter much when I was a kid
Too engaged with other things, Heaven forbid 

We were poor as church mice. We had no shoes. 
We were happy as could be just singing the blues. 

In the one-room school, we sang in harmony. 
Miss Marie, the School Marm taught us our A B C’s

After school, boys swam in the creek.
I learned many lessons most I can't repeat.

The good old days were better then.
It seems I have trouble remembering them.

January 25, 2024
MarkWaldrop

Respect

There seems to be no respect today
Respect was in order yesterday 

Where did it go, and why did it leave 
Young people are not taught I believe

Respect for our Almighty God is where it has to start
Creating respect for family and friends from the heart

The only answer is spreading The Good News of Jesus
Only with God's Touch will Respect be returned to us. 

January 24, 2024
MarkWaldrop

Beyond The Stars

4K: Meteor shower in a night.
Why wish upon a distant star,
Twinkling faintly from afar?
When you can pray to the One who made,
Each galaxy, in darkness and light arrayed.

The stars, mere echoes of His might,
Shining beacons in the night.
Yet greater still, the Creator's hand,
That shaped the sea, the sky, the land.

In prayer, a connection divine,
Beyond the stars, where wonders align.
To Him who hears each silent plea,
In the vast cosmos, His love, the key.

Why gaze upon a star's faint glow,
When to the Maker, your hopes can flow?
In His presence, fears unbind,
Peace and comfort, there you find.

He who sculpted the stars so bright,
Guides your path in the darkest night.
In prayer, find strength, find light,
In the Creator's power, infinite and right.

So look beyond the starlit sky,
To the One who reigns on high.
In every prayer, His grace imparts,
Beyond the stars, within your hearts.

January 24, 2024
Created by 
MarkWaldrop

Our Own Walk With God

In the quiet of the soul, whispered wisdom, softly spoke,
His words, like gentle waves, upon our spirits broke.
"It's expected," he declared, "to lead to Christ's embrace,
Yet first, we must within ourselves, find clarity and grace.

Look within your own closet, sort through shadows and through light,
Mend the frayed and broken threads, in your heart's silent night.
Your journey with the Lord, a path of personal quest,
Focus on your growth, in His love, be truly blessed.

Do not seek to change the minds, of others in their walk,
Each soul's journey is their own, through actions and through talk.
Be His servant, humble, kind, in actions and in life,
Concern yourself with your own path, amidst this worldly strife.

For in the quest of saving souls, our own must not be lost,
Tend to your garden, let it bloom, regardless of the cost.
It's a lifelong endeavor, requiring all you own,
To cultivate a heart where seeds of faith are sown.

Remember, it's your story, written in His love,
That shines a light for others, to the heavens above.
So take the time, reflect, and in your soul, deeply dive,
For in tending to yourself, His spirit will thrive."

Thus he spoke a reminder, profound and clear,
Our own walk with God, is what we should hold dear.
For in our personal journey, with love and truth, we're rife,
Guiding others to His grace, by the example of our life.

January 22, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop