In the silent hours of contemplation’s realm, Where thoughts like mighty ships take the helm, There lies a truth, both stark and bare, “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail,” they declare.
Upon the canvas of the night, stars in alignment, Whispering secrets of success and confinement. For those who in foresight’s garden gently tread, Harvest dreams alive, not shadows of dread.
A lesson taught by time, ancient and wise, That only the prepared meet the sunrise. While others sleep in the bed of procrastination, They wake to the storm of missed realization.
It’s the weaver’s loom, the builder’s square, The navigator’s map, through fog and air. A principle, simple, yet profound, In every endeavor, let preparation abound.
So gather your tools, your plans, your might, Under the moon’s soft glow or the sun’s bright light. For the path to victory, narrow and steep, Is found by those who sow, while others sleep.
In this world of chance, of chaos, of storm, Let preparation be your standard, your norm. For in its embrace, you’ll find the grail, And remember, “Failing to prepare, is preparing to fail.”
In the morning light, ’neath mountains tall, A word once foreign echoed a call.“Hillbilly,” they said, with a sneer, a jeer, A label that brought neither joy nor cheer.
My brother returned with stories anew, Claiming that title for us, the mountain crew.“Dumb, stupid, ignorant,” definitions came, But we knew our worth, our spirit untamed.
An insult to those who rose before dawn, Treading paths untrod, faces weary and wan. To the miners and loggers, their strength never fades; to the women, their resilience never sways.
Carrying water, scrubbing clothes clean, Hoeing fields, unseen, yet serene. After childbirth, returning to toil, Their spirit, their love for the soil.
A mockery made by visitors, blind To the hard work and ingenuity they’d find. Laughing at poverty, speech, and ways, Ignoring the brilliance that deserved praise.
Yet, we’ve evolved, caught up in the race, Losing bits of ourselves, our unique grace. But hear this call: to be true, to dare, Embrace your roots, let down your hair.
Paint, write, revive old mountain speech, Cook soup beans and cornbread, a lesson to teach. Fish for catfish, seek hickory nuts in glades, Be your true self, let not the old ways fade.
So today, embrace your past with pride, And tomorrow, let that truth inside. For in being ourselves, we honor those before And bless our souls forevermore.
In the quiet chambers of my troubled heart,
I lay my disgust, from me, apart.
In the hands of the Divine, I place my trust,
For in this world, discern, I must.
Judgment is not mine to cast or wield,
For the heart’s true nature is often sealed.
From the outside looking in, my vision blurred,
Only God discerns, without a word.
He sees beyond the facade, the masquerade,
To the essence of souls, in light and shade.
With mercy and grace, He understands,
The hidden pains, the silent demands.
In this realization, I find my peace,
Letting go of judgments, allowing release.
For in His trust, my burdens lay light,
Guided by faith, out of the night.
To see as God sees, a gift divine,
To love without judgment, a sign.
That in the hearts of all, there’s more than we know,
And in God’s trust, compassion can grow.
March 31, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In the garden of scriptures, we wander, eyes alight,
Gravitating to blooms that please our sight,
Roses of comfort, lilies of peace, in radiant array,
Yet passing the thorns and nettles along the way.
We choose the path of least resistance, it’s true,
Drawn to what sparkles under the morning dew,
Ignoring the growth that comes from rain,
And the wisdom found in embracing pain.
But let your heart, your soul, lead the way,
Through both the night and the brightness of day,
For in every line of sacred text, there’s a lesson to find,
A balance of heart and challenge, intertwined.
Embrace the scriptures in their wholeness, let them guide,
Let them be the lamp by which your steps abide,
For in the challenge, there’s a beauty unseen,
A strength to be gained, a depth serene.
So, as you walk through life’s ever-changing tide,
Let your heart and soul, in faith, confide,
For every scripture, every line,
Holds a truth, both human and divine.
March 31, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
In the heart of the land, under wide, open skies,
Lies a world far removed from the city’s cries.
Where the clip-clop of buggies, in the morning’s embrace,
Speaks of a life held at a different pace.
It’s not just the bonnets, nor the horse-drawn cart,
But a tapestry of values, woven heart to heart.
Simplicity’s virtue, in each task and chore,
Finds beauty in less, not in wanting more.
Community’s bond, like the quilts they create,
Stitched together with love, eschewing hate.
Each thread a promise, a support, a friend,
In a fabric of faith that does not end.
Their faith, not just words spoken in a church,
But lived in deeds, a constant search.
For a life of meaning, away from the world’s noise,
Finding peace in prayer, and communal joys.
It’s a rich mosaic, of tradition and belief,
Of autumn harvests, and the relief
Of summer’s end, when work is shared,
In barn raisings, where no burden is spared.
In the silence of dawn, or the glow of a lamp,
Lives a testament to a life, serene and damp.
With the soil, the seed, the handmade and homegrown,
A culture deep and diverse, proudly, quietly sown.
So look beyond the bonnets and buggies, see the essence,
Of a life embraced with deliberate presence.
For in the Amish way, there’s wisdom to find,
In living a life, simple and kind.
March 31, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
The Book of the World with many pages to turn
There are many chapters from which much to learn
Chapters of joy, chapters of sadness
a theme throughout of human kindness
God planning His Book whence Creation had begun
Continually being written by the old and young
My few lines will reveal the soul for everyone to see
Will I be content or anxious what others read of me
When the final chapter is scribed
God will seal it with access denied
No entries added, no lines deleted
Time itself will be eternally completed
March 30, 2024
MarkWaldrop
In a garden grown with care and pride, Lies a sundial, elegance personified. But shrouded beneath the shadow’s glide, Its purpose lost, its essence denied.
“Hide not your talents,” a wise voice said, “For they were made to shine, to lead, to spread. Just like a sundial under the sun’s gaze, Revealing the hours, the minutes, the days.”
In the light, it dances, a story untold, Marking time’s passage, bold and bold. But in the shade, its purpose folds, A silent witness as life unfolds.
So let your talents, your gifts, your light Shine forth, break free, take flight. For what’s a sundial in the shade?But potential unmet, a parade unstaged.
Embrace your strengths; let them be seen In the sunlight, where they’re meant to gleam. For every talent, every dream, every theme Is a piece of the world’s grand scheme.
And remember, as you journey through, What’s hidden in shadows is still a part of you. So let it out, let it grow, let it brew, For the world’s much brighter with the talents of you.
March 30, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop
"Hide not your talents; they for use were made; what's a sundial in the shade?"
Ben Franklin
