One day a long time ago in Bible Lands
A cattle train headed out to their Homeland
Jacob, with his wives and children, mounted their Camels high
Heading out under the hot desert sky
Following God’s Devine plan, trekking many miles in the hot sand
Camels, cattle, goats, and sheep always looking for water and sleep
An impossible journey in every way
Only with God’s Hand as they pray
Reaching their destination and looking in the past
Thanking God for his protection that will forever last
February 2, 2024
MarkWaldrop
Genesis 31:17-18
In the spring of '71, a young boy's journey begun,
Kevin, just eleven, with dreams touching the sun.
WN2AEY, his call sign, a beacon of light,
Received on his twelfth birthday, much to his delight.
With a homebrew transmitter, fifty watts of pure zeal,
Cathode keyed, crystal controlled, a young ham's ideal.
A National NCX3, his first receiver to hold,
But soon traded for something more bold.
The Hammarlund HQ170A, vast as the sea,
A radio giant, for a young enthusiast, a key.
This machine, a marvel, in his hands it lay,
An ocean of frequencies, just a dial away.
In the fall of '72, at the tender age of thirteen,
He upgraded to general, a new call sign to glean.
WAZAEY, his new identity in the air,
A step further in his journey, handled with care.
Through the static and noise, his passion grew,
A world of connections, old and new.
From a young boy's dream in the spring of '71,
To a journey in waves, under the invisible sun.
January 31, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop KE4WA
Penned for Kevin Clark WA2AEY
Golden Gate Park a timeless place
To bask in God’s Peace and Grace
A tranquil stroll with dogs in hand
Calms the anxious soul of any man
Children playing and running all around
Recovers memories lost but now found
The smell of the blossoming flowers
Unrest in my mind Peace overpowers
All good things must come to an end.
I am confident this will happen again.
January 29, 2024
MarkWaldrop
Life on the farm is relaxing, I must say
Sending the cares of the city away
The smell of freshly new-mown hay
A hot cup of coffee to start the day
The midnight hours of birthing a calf
It brings happiness and far less strife
Life on the farm melts my many concerns away
Close to God’s creation is where I want to stay
January 29, 2024
MarkWaldrop
Penned for my friend
Dean Ewing
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 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
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 burdens of life brought me to my knees
Nowhere to turn but God, looking for peace
As I share with Him all my cares
My load is lifted through my tears
His Grace and Mercy are more than I can understand
I thank you, God, for your Everlasting Devin Plan
January 27, 2024
MarkWaldrop
By whom am I being led, and where am I going
I am traveling along willingly without knowing
I must pay more attention to my path today
Will I be happy and fulfilled at the end of the day
Always being alert to my coach and the race I'm in.
Will determine the prize that lies ahead in the end
January 27, 2024
MarkWaldrop
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
