Just an Extra

I'm just an extra in somebody else’s play
Being an extra I have few words to say

Being an extra is an honor I must say
To be asked to be in anyone's play

I follow the directions the director gives me
Always being ready when he calls on me

Maybe I will get a chance one day
To be famous in a well-known play

February 3, 2024
MarkWaldrop

Let love Be Our War

In unity's embrace, we boldly stand,
A creed that shapes both heart and land.
Divided, we falter, together, we soar,
A timeless truth from ancient lore.

Not for self, but for all, we give,
In service's call, we truly live.
"What can I do?" not "What I receive,"
A mantra for all who believe.

As Jesus for us, His life did pay,
A debt of love we can never repay.
Yet in His steps, we can proceed,
To serve, to love, to plant the seed.

Love, the adhesive for every split seam,
Holding together life's complex dream.
Without its bond, we drift apart,
But with it, we mend every heart.

The change we seek in the world around,
Within our own hearts, must be found.
Starting with me, a ripple in the pond,
Echoing out to the bonds beyond.

Not by the saber is true war won,
But by love's power, shining as the sun.
Where love abounds, conflict ceases to be,
In its warm embrace, we are truly free.

So let us walk in love's unending light,
Turning every wrong to right.
In every action, let love be our war,
For where there is love, there is no war.

February 3, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop

Happy Groundhog’s Day

Happy Groundhog's Day, twenty-twenty-four!  
With eager eyes, we all did explore,  
Punxsutawney Phil, the seer of time,  
Gave us a forecast, oh so prime.

He did NOT see his shadow, so it seems,  
Spring is closer, in our dreams.  
Gone soon, the winter's icy tether,  
All thanks to a rodent's weather.

Yes, science abounds in meteorology's task,  
Yet, for Phil's prediction, we eagerly ask.  
Funny, isn't it, how traditions entwine,  
With forecasts and futures, all align.

So celebrate the coming of spring's sweet call,  
Phil's decree, a shadow's fall.  
Happy Groundhog's Day, let's all cheer,  
For spring's warmth is nearly here!

February 2, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop

Heading Out

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

A Young Boy’s Dream

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

Painting by Judith Palmer Moran
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

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

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