RIMBA OF ST. GEORGE’S CONVENT
So glad for his friendship was I of him,
No steadier friend in brightness and gloom.
Memory of his visage, grows not dim,
And of the houndlike ways I admired in Rim,
For love in his heart, abounding, the room.
Coming ‘round early with a wag and a lick,
Glad in the morning to see me was he.
We were friends close kept, like candle and wick.
When viands were offered, his interest was quick.
Even from his sleep, he would get up to greet me.
At the end of his life, Rimba grew sick,
After fourteen years, his time was now spent.
I asked the Lord in earnest, his end to make quick,
His suffering to limit, his problem to lick.
Next morning at six, anon, to heaven he went.
“Hanoinni Rimster” my greeting to him went,
For I loved Rimba much, he was a Lion of a Friend.
What a great gift was Rimba, from God he was sent,
To comfort me with his houndship, his All he lent.
Send another now Lord, please, another now send.
So glad for his friendship was I of him,
No steadier friend in brightness and gloom.
Memory of his visage, grows not dim,
And of the houndlike ways I admired in Rim,
For love in his heart, abounding, the room.
Coming ‘round early with a wag and a lick,
Glad in the morning to see me was he.
We were friends close kept, like candle and wick.
When viands were offered, his interest was quick.
Even from his sleep, he would get up to greet me.
At the end of his life, Rimba grew sick,
After fourteen years, his time was now spent.
I asked the Lord in earnest, his end to make quick,
His suffering to limit, his problem to lick.
Next morning at six, anon, to heaven he went.
“Hanoinni Rimster” my greeting to him went,
For I loved Rimba much, he was a Lion of a Friend.
What a great gift was Rimba, from God he was sent,
To comfort me with his houndship, his All he lent.
Send another now Lord, please, another now send.
MY DOG RIMBA
My loving dog all brown and white
Runs through the woods with glee.
When I come home from work at night
He jumps all over me.
His little manners seem to show
Of love his heart’s not dull.
God loaned us dogs so we could know
Love loyal poured out full.
When Rimba’s whiskers had worn grey,
His gait was O’ so slow.
His job was done and down he lay,
Death bid, and he did go.
My loving dog all brown and white
Runs through the woods with glee.
When I come home from work at night
He jumps all over me.
His little manners seem to show
Of love his heart’s not dull.
God loaned us dogs so we could know
Love loyal poured out full.
When Rimba’s whiskers had worn grey,
His gait was O’ so slow.
His job was done and down he lay,
Death bid, and he did go.
THE MOCKINGBIRD
The mockingbird came piping all his notes
With cheerful trills did he greet my steps
The odd thing was, it was 2:30 in the morning
And the mockingbird should be sleeping then
But on, on, on he piped loudly near my window casement.
I had just come home from work and had
Turned on the TV to relax a little
And on, on and on he piped as loud as
His little self would permit until
I couldn’t stand it any longer.
The noise had become overbearing
And interfered with the show I was watching.
So I filled up a pot from the stove
With water which was neither hot nor cold
And went to the window. I opened the
Screen and swung the pot out of the window. The poor fellow
Stopped trilling and waited to see
What I would do. I pitched the
Water at the spruce he was sitting in.
Ten seconds later away he flew
And was silent for the rest of the night.
That was early Saturday morn. The following
Monday I worked late again
And when I got home there he
Was as loud as ever in the
Middle of the night.
I went in, turned the lights on,
Had a bit to eat, and turned on
The teli. His singing overrode
The movie I was watching
With feelings of “What can I do?”
I rushed to the stove, filled
The pot with water and strove
Fully armed to the window.
I pulled up the screen and
Held the pot outside the window.
\He stopped singing and waited.
I thought a moment, maybe he
Is trying to let me know in
His language that I’ve been
Keeping his family up.
So I withdrew the pot and water.
Then I closed the screen,
Turned off the light and teli
And went to bed. I heard not
One peep from him since.
Now when I come home late
At night I remember what
Will happen if I stay up.
So I just come in and
Go right to bed.
The mockingbird came piping all his notes
With cheerful trills did he greet my steps
The odd thing was, it was 2:30 in the morning
And the mockingbird should be sleeping then
But on, on, on he piped loudly near my window casement.
I had just come home from work and had
Turned on the TV to relax a little
And on, on and on he piped as loud as
His little self would permit until
I couldn’t stand it any longer.
The noise had become overbearing
And interfered with the show I was watching.
So I filled up a pot from the stove
With water which was neither hot nor cold
And went to the window. I opened the
Screen and swung the pot out of the window. The poor fellow
Stopped trilling and waited to see
What I would do. I pitched the
Water at the spruce he was sitting in.
Ten seconds later away he flew
And was silent for the rest of the night.
That was early Saturday morn. The following
Monday I worked late again
And when I got home there he
Was as loud as ever in the
Middle of the night.
I went in, turned the lights on,
Had a bit to eat, and turned on
The teli. His singing overrode
The movie I was watching
With feelings of “What can I do?”
I rushed to the stove, filled
The pot with water and strove
Fully armed to the window.
I pulled up the screen and
Held the pot outside the window.
\He stopped singing and waited.
I thought a moment, maybe he
Is trying to let me know in
His language that I’ve been
Keeping his family up.
So I withdrew the pot and water.
Then I closed the screen,
Turned off the light and teli
And went to bed. I heard not
One peep from him since.
Now when I come home late
At night I remember what
Will happen if I stay up.
So I just come in and
Go right to bed.
MY FRIEND
My loving friend and I would talk
With cup of tea in hand.
And now and then we two did walk
Around the pleasant land.
We heated water on the stove
And sometimes milk as well,
And talked of books, but not of love,
The future – who could tell?
Of all the friends I’ve ever had,
You’ve meant the most to me.
The clear blue skies, they make me glad,
They always speak of thee.
And now the years are all but spent
And what is left to say.
Is time together really meant
To pass the time of day?
Time together is but to build
A future strong and deep.
The heart is soil to be tilled,
Sow love and love you’ll reap.
Oh my Father, how great Thou art,
Thy work is love, we see.
We pray Thee do, write us a part,
On stage to play for Thee.
My loving friend and I would talk
With cup of tea in hand.
And now and then we two did walk
Around the pleasant land.
We heated water on the stove
And sometimes milk as well,
And talked of books, but not of love,
The future – who could tell?
Of all the friends I’ve ever had,
You’ve meant the most to me.
The clear blue skies, they make me glad,
They always speak of thee.
And now the years are all but spent
And what is left to say.
Is time together really meant
To pass the time of day?
Time together is but to build
A future strong and deep.
The heart is soil to be tilled,
Sow love and love you’ll reap.
Oh my Father, how great Thou art,
Thy work is love, we see.
We pray Thee do, write us a part,
On stage to play for Thee.
A TENANT'S LAMENT
Whenever I come home from work at night,
No porch lamp burning, to brighten my way.
If I’m not careful, my feet might stray,
As I slog along slowly through the miry clay.
And see my house without an outside light.
I dwell in a place that creaks and moans
When the wind ups with bluster and shriek,
Its future is desolate, marred, and bleak.
Of its past in silence, the house will not speak,
Except for the sadness, each chamber intones.
Wasted, weather weary, unwanted and worn,
The inside dead-quiet, the outside unheard,
Except the great rumbling train, not a word.
No cheerfulness imbued, my heart to upgird.
From life’s mainstream of use, disuse it has borne.
I dwell in a place that’s lonely and sad,
No laughter, nor love, nor happy feet,
And nary a visitor on its footpath to greet.
The steampipe whistles and hisses with heat.
It’s tattered and torn and no longer in fad.
One can see by the roof and its general shape,
That the house is long suffering for want of care.
The entire habitation in utter disrepair,
We are forgotten, unremembered, all chambers declare.
Out at the road, the still windows gape.
I dwell in a place that’s tired and old,
It’s been on the market, more than a year.
Repairs too numerous for a buyer I fear.
It’s worn out, broken down, out of gear,
And the price is too high, it shan’t be sold.
Whenever I come home from work at night,
No porch lamp burning, to brighten my way.
If I’m not careful, my feet might stray,
As I slog along slowly through the miry clay.
And see my house without an outside light.
I dwell in a place that creaks and moans
When the wind ups with bluster and shriek,
Its future is desolate, marred, and bleak.
Of its past in silence, the house will not speak,
Except for the sadness, each chamber intones.
Wasted, weather weary, unwanted and worn,
The inside dead-quiet, the outside unheard,
Except the great rumbling train, not a word.
No cheerfulness imbued, my heart to upgird.
From life’s mainstream of use, disuse it has borne.
I dwell in a place that’s lonely and sad,
No laughter, nor love, nor happy feet,
And nary a visitor on its footpath to greet.
The steampipe whistles and hisses with heat.
It’s tattered and torn and no longer in fad.
One can see by the roof and its general shape,
That the house is long suffering for want of care.
The entire habitation in utter disrepair,
We are forgotten, unremembered, all chambers declare.
Out at the road, the still windows gape.
I dwell in a place that’s tired and old,
It’s been on the market, more than a year.
Repairs too numerous for a buyer I fear.
It’s worn out, broken down, out of gear,
And the price is too high, it shan’t be sold.
MY HOME TREE
Of all the trees I’ve ever known,
The one remembered best,
‘Twas an old Oak that stood alone,
Over our walk of gray and red stone,
It towered high ‘bove all the rest.
Trunked with limb and branched with leaf,
All green above, and brown below
With bark. Rooted in strength, beneath,
Into the ground, deep underneath.
The grass above all fresh amow.
Breeze stirring leaves, faint the sound,
Whispering wind swept leaf and limb,
Dendrological chords they found,
While I stood under on the ground,
Intoned the tree and wind a hymn.
But now I’m troubled, for no more
Will I have the tree before me.
My wish, our friendship to restore,
The Oak and I were friends before,
The Oak of old, was my home tree.
Of all the trees I’ve ever known,
The one remembered best,
‘Twas an old Oak that stood alone,
Over our walk of gray and red stone,
It towered high ‘bove all the rest.
Trunked with limb and branched with leaf,
All green above, and brown below
With bark. Rooted in strength, beneath,
Into the ground, deep underneath.
The grass above all fresh amow.
Breeze stirring leaves, faint the sound,
Whispering wind swept leaf and limb,
Dendrological chords they found,
While I stood under on the ground,
Intoned the tree and wind a hymn.
But now I’m troubled, for no more
Will I have the tree before me.
My wish, our friendship to restore,
The Oak and I were friends before,
The Oak of old, was my home tree.
WHEN I WAS YOUNG
When I was young and much like you,
I had no time for the lessons of life.
I hemmed and hawed, and I bucked and ewed.
And thought I was the only oyster in the stew,
And I played as a child with drums and with fife.
My boys and girls, stand straight and tall,
And do all that you are told to.
Be prepared and stay on the ball,
Your parents love you more than all.
Good conscience you ought to keep in view.
Then happiness let your pursuit be,
Through virtue, you will reach your goal.
Learn to listen and then you will see,
Things will work out most happily.
Good sleep at night, you’ll have, we’re told.
Eat what your Mother tells you to,
Strong and tall then, you will grow.
Be truthful in All, in All that you do,
Of things to do, can you think of some though?
Be friendly and loving with the deeds that you sow.
When I was young and much like you,
I had no time for the lessons of life.
I hemmed and hawed, and I bucked and ewed.
And thought I was the only oyster in the stew,
And I played as a child with drums and with fife.
My boys and girls, stand straight and tall,
And do all that you are told to.
Be prepared and stay on the ball,
Your parents love you more than all.
Good conscience you ought to keep in view.
Then happiness let your pursuit be,
Through virtue, you will reach your goal.
Learn to listen and then you will see,
Things will work out most happily.
Good sleep at night, you’ll have, we’re told.
Eat what your Mother tells you to,
Strong and tall then, you will grow.
Be truthful in All, in All that you do,
Of things to do, can you think of some though?
Be friendly and loving with the deeds that you sow.