Don's Poetry

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Fri, 23 Aug 2013 16:59:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I posted the first poem in my chapbook, "Living In My Last Resort." As I plan to post all of the poems in it I decided I should backup and give you an insight into what generated my decision to write a series of poems about my realization that I am walking in the twilight hours of my life and present a realistic perspective of my life end view of aging. The following is from the beginning of my chapbook. I hope you will find this and my series of poems insightful, comforting and give you a little giggle here and there.

INTRODUCTION

LIVING IN MY LAST RESORT

Recently two of my doctors independently advised me, “Don, you are at the point where I will only do surgery on you as a last resort.”

        As I have pondered the implications of what they told me, it has become clear to me that I am “living in my last resort.” Reflecting upon this, I decided to write a series of poems depicting the nature of my resort, what kind of facilities are in the complex and how each one affects my daily life and that of my wife, Sharon.

   I hope you will meander with me through my last resort and experience some of the feelings engendered in the various structures, through interaction with staff, change in attire, and by services provided.

        Randomly interspersed with the poems will be photos of some of the buildings that make up my last resort. I am grateful to the multitude of staff at my last resort who have provided for my needs with tender loving care.

        Keep in mind, that most of us, in varying degrees, will experience life in our “last resort.”

       Over the last several years, Psalm 90:9b-10 has inspired me along my hope filled journey. It reads as follows:

“We have finished our years like a sigh. As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years, or if due to strength, eighty years, yet their pride is but labor and sorrow; for soon it is gone and we fly away.” (NASV)

Don E. Cunningham, ©11-10-2010

LIVING IN MY LAST RESORT

I'm at the point in my life where I have difficulty figuring out simple things like, why I wear my suspenders; to keep my pants up or to make my shoulders stoop-over? Either way they accomplish both.

On my last visit to my dermatologist I told him I had some kind of rash on my head. He examined it and then used a highfalutin medical term, which I didn’t understand. When I asked him what it meant he told me it was what you might call geriatric acne. The dawn burst like the sun rising from the East - I was at the adolescent stage in my second childhood! The next day, to celebrate, I went to the barber and got a flattop haircut; a reminder of my hairstyle in my last year of high school. I was back in the groove!

I wore it that way for a couple of months and decided to let it grow back in. I had only one flattop during my teen years. When I mentioned it to my wife, Sharon, she suggested that I might want to keep the flattop. After all, it would be easier for me to take care of. It is probably a good idea. If I do though, maybe I’ll replace the little soft bristle scrub brush for an honest –to –goodness fancy designed hair brush. However, at my age and living in my last resort, it’s hard to know if it would be worth the investment.

After mistaking my hearing aid for a cashew nut and biting into it, I bought a new behind the ear set. It makes it less likely I’ll eat them. They are so small I hope I don’t accidentally identify them as a crawling bug and stomp on them. Now where was it I put my glasses? Oh, here they are behind my computer monitor. Probably, should put a neck string on them.

Sometimes we arrive at a meeting and I realize I forgot to put my hearing aids in. Sharon recently put a sign on the inside of our front door. It is about the size of a school zone sign and has three little words, “Keys” “Meds” “Hearing Aids”. As time progresses she’ll probable link additional words to it like: “Cane” “Walker” and “Wheel Chair.” Will it ever end?

To make matters worse, next to the door, are two other signs. “Been There, Done That, Can’t Remember” and “Young at heart, older in other places.” Apparently, those kinds of signs begin to appear when you are living in your last resort!

When reference to the heart is made, I become somewhat concerned. The scripture warns us against hardening of our hearts. My Cardiologist did some tests and explained to me that some of the tissue on the right side of my heart has hardened. It looks like I’m in real trouble with the Lord if He includes the physical as well as the spiritual meaning of the heart. On the other hand He also says He will write his Word on our heart. If that is the case mine will be a little easier to write on.

DON IN FRONT OF HIS BIRTHPLACE AND CHILDHOOD HOME - 2008.

589 Sixth Avenue, N. Troy, NY (Lansingburgh)

Where the journey began!

Don E. Cunningham Copyright 8-23-13

HONORING OUR FIREMEN AND POLICE ON INDEPENDENCE DAY

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Thu, 04 Jul 2013 20:54:00 +0000

Dear Friends,

Today, as we celebrate our hard won Independence day, I am thinking not only of our veterans and those currently serving overseas to protect our freedom, but of those who risk their lives in our neighborhoods every day to protect us and our way of life. This past week we have seen that courage and devotion dramatically demonstrated with the death of 19 Granite Mountain Hot Shot firemen. These young men gave their last "full measure of devotion" fighting a forest fire in nearby Yarnell. We cannot comprehend what their families and firemen comrades are enduring as they grieve their untimely deaths. We grieve with them.

In 2006 I wrote the following poem to honor our local firemen and police officers who were visiting our facility to familiarize us with their services. I had served as a Volunteer In Protection with our local sheriff's department, assigned to the Victim Witness Program. I have the greatest respect for these "Servants in Black and Navy Blue." I hope you will join me in saluting and praying for them and their families as they daily serve and protect. As I thought about our brave hot shot servants and their families, on July 5, 2005, I wrote and inserted three additional verses about them into my poem.

SERVANTS IN BLACK AND NAVY BLUE

Servants in black and navy blue,

We owe a special debt to you.

You protect our homes, lives and streets,

Needs of the fearful often meet.

Your sirens wail, you’re on the way,

Sworn to protect us every day.

What’re the problems you are there.

You show us that you really care.

Patrol our streets and keep them safe.

Take care of little forlorn waif.

Battling crime, a toll it takes,

Many of you it really breaks.

In combat gear you give us hope,

Will wipe out crime and stamp out dope.

When we’re stressed out, you remain calm.

With smiling face give peaceful balm.

In yellow garb you do arrive,

Keep our feeble frames alive.

You check our pulse and thump our chest,

You care for us the very best.

EMTs in ambulance rush,

To stop our bleeding all a-gush.

With your strong arms our stretchers bear,

We’re thankful friends that you are there.

In ambulance we speed away,

You help us live another day

Rush to the emergency room,

Help us avoid impending doom.

So much heartache is seen by you,

Servants in black and navy blue.

Lifeless bodies on highways strewn,

Fire burned buildings sit in ruin.

Hot shots drop behind fire lines,

Fearlessly fight flames in the pines

Courageous men who give their all,

They're facing death - all standing tall.

Their families face the agony,

Beloved ones they may never see,

Hot Shots face fire's burning rage,

Entrapped within its blazing cage.

Amidst the flames their souls take flight,

They are precious in our Lord's sight.

Their bodies found right where they laid,

Our memories of them will not fade.

Lord we thank you for patriots brave,

For what they do and lives they gave.

We thank you Lord for all who serve,

Who from their duties never swerve.

Broken hearts barely stand the pain,

By our sides you bravely remain,

Hope you give - we cannot measure,

In our hearts it stays a treasure.

So many things you do for us,

Done quietly, without a fuss.

You do your job as it was planned,

Complete your duties on demand.

Your work is hard and pay is low,

And yet you serve with hearts aglow.

Ever striving to reach your goals.

Bear the stress of tormented souls

So we are here to sing your praise,

And gladly now our voices raise.

Servants in black and navy blue.

We are very grateful to you.

Hugs, In Christ’s and My Love,

Don E. Cunningham

©August 1, 2006 Updated 7-5-13

LIVING IN MY LAST RESORT - GOLD IS GONE

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sat, 29 Jun 2013 22:11:00 +0000

Dear Friends,

     It is hard to believe that it has been three and one half years since I have placed any of my poems on my blogsite. Since my last posting we moved to a rental apartment and then back to Windsong. Ill health followed us whereever we went.
     The other day a new fellow writer came to our writers' group. After listening to some of my writing, she asked for my blog address so she could read some of my poems. Believe it or not it has been so long that I had to look it up! Her request spurred me on to begin posting again.
     I have decided to occasionally post some poems from my latest chapbook "Living In My Last Resort." After a doctor at Mayo read my chart he told me, "Mr. Cunningham, if it weren't for the fine care you receive and the advancement in medical science you would have been dead years ago." Between a wonderful caring wife and my excellent doctors I believe that to be true.
     When I thought about it I decided to write a series of poems, which I incorporated into the above titled chap book. Here is the one I have chosen to share.

GOLD IS GONE

When gold is gone in Golden Years,

And life-end plans destroyed.

We must move on with altered goals,

Lest all of life be void.

With broken hearts we look around,

‘Til a new dwelling find.

The move is tough as we downgrade,

And leave old friends behind.

Misguided by those whom we trust,

Tossed money down the drain.

While tears may flow and friends be gone,

Our funds cannot regain.

This last resort – a large complex,

Made up of many parts.

Spread out in many areas,

Burden upon our hearts.

The compound is interesting,

With many services.

Apartments, hospitals and Transport,

The place is hard to miss.

I spend much time within my den,

I’m quite a bit worn out.

Sitting at my old computer,

Don’t have much time to pout.

My traveling is done by car,

And sometimes ambulance.

Trips to the doctors’ offices,

Helps me my health enhance.

Now when I hear the sirens wail,

And see the red lights flash.

I know they are coming for me,

They’ll take me in a dash.

Emergency rooms and hospitals,

Are part of my routine.

They poke and jab and run their tests,

A diagnosis glean.

Up to the plush resort I’m sent,

With special treatment plan,

Care providers all pamper me,

Do everything they can.

My last resort sets many moods,

From sorrow to great joy.

With loving wife and caring staff,

Grateful thanks I employ.

I ponder now my last resort,

My voice I gladly raise.

I feel my Savior’s tender care,

Give accolades of praise.

Don E. Cunningham ©11-9-2010 263

WINDSONG VILLAS OUR ABIDING LAST RESORT

CHRISTMAS TIDINGS 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 18:45:00 +0000

This year I found myself struggling for a couple of weeks with what kind of Christmas Poem Letter to write. Most years I have written poems centering upon what we have done over the past year. This year I didn’t feel comfortable with writing about aches, pains and medical challenges. Then one day last week I finally wrapped my mind around what to write. The following poem is the outcome of my thoughts:

Sharon and I pray you Happy Holidays and a very blessed and grace filled year. We bring you tiding of

great JOY!

MERRY CHRISTMAS, WITH HUGS, IN CHRIST'S AND OUR LOVE

Don and Sharon Cunningham

A LIVING MIRACLE

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 20:41:00 +0000

Over the last couple of months I have had numerous tests, ultra-sound, echoes and cat scans to check blood circulation to legs, feet, stomach and head. I also had left carotid surgery. Following these tests I learned that following my carotid surgery scar tissue formed resulting in 45% blockage in the left carotid. The doctor told me that this rarely happens and only does so with diabetic patients. Due to my diabetes they will not do further surgery unless it becomes absolutely necessary. Now, the big finding!

My cardiologist took out his pen and drew a sketch of the arteries going to the stomach. He indicated that the smaller artery was 76% blocked. Then he showed us the miracle. The larger artery had done a natural bypass around the blocked artery and reconnected below the blocked part of the other artery. This meant adequate blood flow to the stomach and made surgery unnecessary. The doctor suggested I write a poem about the miracle of the body. The poem and a copy of the sketch follow:

A LIVING MIRACLE

They say I evolved up from the slime,

But my creation was sublime.

Known by God before I was born,

A person of beauty, not scorn.

Two were wed, they became just one,

I was conceived as their third son.

Burst forth in love out of the womb,

From the beginning meant to bloom.

Body operating most fine,

Just as planned by our Lord’s design.

As parts wear down they are refreshed,

Everything working – intermeshed.

The soul within my flesh abides,

Throughout my life it gently guides.

My brain is performing just fine,

All body tasks it doth define.

It sends signals to every part,

With extra circuit to the heart.

Coordinated functioning.

While every part does its own thing.

The heart pumps in smooth harmony,

Sending blood through each part of me.

When artery restricts blood flow,

Another around it will grow.

As circulating blood goes round,

It with nutrients doth abound,

Picks up the waste carries it out,

That is what it is all about.

The lungs breathe in and then breathe out,

Oxygen through the body route.

Carbon dioxide they exhale.

Day in, day out, they never fail.

Kidneys and liver filter too,

Keep fluids clean is what they do.

Bladder and rectum work real well,

The waste from body they expel.

The bones the body’s structure form,

The skeleton erect is norm.

They serve another grand purpose,

Create new blood to flow through us.

The flesh all wrapped in porous skin,

Retains the gooey substance in.

Keeps body cool, releases sweat,

Ninety eight point six always met.

My five senses come into play,

Help guide my life throughout the day.

To see, touch, taste, smell and to hear,

Enriches all that I hold dear.

Infinite parts I cannot see,

All do their work inside of me.

They fight disease and keep me well,

Most of the time make me feel swell.

For over eighty years it’s worked,

Never a single duty shirked.

And now I simply have to say,

I LIVE - a miracle each day!

When this body returns to clay,

It will arise another way.

Yes, raised immortal it shall be,

To live with God eternally.

Don E. Cunningham, P.O.P. ©9-27-09 549

Hugs, In Christ's and My Love

Don

Google

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 20:07:00 +0000

Google

CLOUDS OF LIFE

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 20:10:00 +0000

There comes times in our lives when clouds begin to form around us. Sometimes they bring showers of blessing. At other times they are dark storm clouds that reach into the depths of our souls. We look for the silver lining and hope that good will come out of our deep distress. The following poem attempts to bring us from the dark clouds of despair into the calm of our Lord’s presence in our lives. May you find the peace of God in the midst of your storm.

CLOUDS OF LIFE

Clouds of our lives float overhead,
Writing upon the sky.
Daily new messages they bring,
Apparent to the eye.

Sometimes a lone cloud lingers near,
A beauty to behold.
Then others gather by its side,
To show a message bold.

The mass grows heavy with the rain,
And lightning starts to flash.
The thunder claps with loud applause,
As raindrops to earth crash.

The storms of life encompass us,
Fear in hearts doth abound.
Cloud bursts are blasting at our souls,
Flood waters surge around.

No matter what the clouds may bring,
Fierce storms or gentle rain.
My soul in peace shall ere abide,
For Christ within doth reign.

When the clouds of life beset you,
In the darkness of the night.
May the Holy Spirit comfort,
And keep you from all fright.

Don E. Cunningham
Patriot Octogenarian Poet
©8/6/2009

MY SHROUD

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 17:51:00 +0000

The following poem is based upon a dream I had ten years ago. I was only home from the hospital a couple of days after having quadruple bypass surgery. I fell asleep in a recliner. I dreamed I went to a play at Prescott Fine Arts Association. During intermission I stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air. There was a misty rain. Suddenly, I found myself in an ambulance with siren wailing. An oxygen mask was over my nose and mouth. I was talking with the Lord, saying, “Lord I can’t go, Sharon needs me.” He responded, “Don’t worry I will take care of her.”
Then I felt myself being sucked up through the oxygen mask. I was swirling upward in a rainbow shroud of beautiful indescribably rich, soft colors. My voice changed. I found myself singing praises to my Lord. I awoke but the dream lingers in my heart.
Later, in Revelation 4:2 & 3, I read: “And immediately I was in the spirit: and, behold, a throne was set in heaven, and one sat on the throne. And he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone: and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald.”
What a future to look forward to. While still abiding here may we ever be conscious of His presence in our hearts. He will never leave nor forsake us. Remember His rainbow of promise.

MY SHROUD

My shroud is a swirling rainbow,
Enfolds me in God’s light.
The colors are overwhelming,
‘Tis a glorious sight.

The hues are illuminating,
Soft colors I behold.
I am swept around inside them,
Their beauty can’t be told.

I can feel myself rotating,
My soul is Heaven bound,
My vocal cords have been renewed,
I sing the glory sound.

Alleluia in the highest,
All glory to His name.
I can hear the Heavenly chorus,
His praises we acclaim.

Behind the towering throne of God,
A rainbow I can see.
I need not fear the shroud of death,
His love encircles me!

Don E. Cunningham, P.O.P. ©9/2/09

FOUNTAIN LADY

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 22:18:00 +0000

Today, I decided to post a poem a little bit on the lighter side. Perhaps you have met a lady like this. I hope you enjoy it and look at it through the eyes of the creator. How is your image doing today?

FOUNTAIN LADY

She was standing by the fountain,
And had a special glow.
She seemed like the kind of lady,
I’d like to get to know.

I sauntered over close to her,
Her gown was draped real tight.
The body underneath was slim,
Oh, what a lovely sight.

I tried real hard to talk with her,
But got no clear response.
She seemed to just ignore my words,
I held her in ensconce.

And though I lingered there with her,
She stayed cold and aloof.
Her eyes seemed to stare right past me,
Looked up at yonder roof.

I tried to gently hold her hand,
But it remained real still.
It seemed like it was very cold,
I thought she might be ill.

I tried to snuggle close to her,
She seemed to be quite shy.
Perhaps I was not the right type,
Was there another guy?

I turned to her with puckered lips,
But hers were taught and tight.
I could tell by her expression,
A kiss was not all right.

It was clear from the beginning,
Her heart was cold as stone.
No matter how my heart might yearn,
She wants to be alone.

I turned and looked by morning’s light,
And what did I behold?
She was just a marble statue,
Standing out in the cold.

My love for her will not abate,
The story must be told.
In the sculptor’s creative mind,
Her beauty doth unfold.

He sees her not as marble slab,
Her beauty lies within.
He chisels with his skillful hands,
His masterpiece begins.

Now when I see her in the park,
Her beauty I embrace.
And when I look into her eyes,
I see the sculptor’s face.

Friend when you look into my eyes,
I hope that you will see,
A picture of the sculptor’s face,
Who has created me.

Don E. Cunningham, P.O.P. ©6/4/09 305

CREATION'S CONCERT

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 16:23:00 +0000

Almost thirty years ago I heard a visiting minister of music refer to all of creation being an orchestra ready to burst forth into music. He spoke of the orchestra tuning up and anxiously waiting for the Conductor to raise His baton. He based his message on Psalm 148. While most of his message is forgotten I do remember waiting for the baton to fall and the first note to peal forth! Over the last several years I have been anticipating what that score will be like. My poem, “Creation Concert,” attempts to express my great longings and anticipation of that great concert. Let the music begin!

CREATION’S CONCERT

All Creation is just waiting,
To play its concert grand.
I can hear its gentle rustling,
As maestro lifts His hand.

The wind instruments are preparing,
I feel the gentle breeze,
As the wind it is a-blowing,
Through the majestic trees.

I can hear the rustling bushes,
It is a winsome tune.
The flowers are all blossoming,
Their music will start soon.

With anxious anticipation,
Creation starts to heal.
The prelude starts moaning, groaning,
Its suffering I feel.

Waiting for our precious Savior,
To wave His great baton.
When He calls beloved children,
Nature’s song will play on.

Creation reaches crescendo,
Thundering voices raise.
Every creature is responding,
With accolades of praise,

All the rocks are singing, dancing,
The stones are crying out.
The deserts no longer thirsty,
Flowers begin to sprout.

The mighty mountains are stirring,
There is rolling in the hills,
The streams and creeks are gurgling,
Doing just as God Wills.

The ocean waves are roaring loud,
They crash against the shore.
I can hear their cymbals clapping,
Echo for evermore.

The rivers flow in harmony,
Within their pristine banks.
They are forever rippling,
Their joyous songs of thanks.

The stars and angels from above,
Join in the chorus strong.
Their voices raise, in joyous praise,
Lord do not tarry long.

Though there are things we cannot see,
They too will sing their song.
Their music will enrapture us.
And we will sing along.

All creatures raise their voices clear,
Anthems of praise they sing.
As mortals kneel in awed wonder,
Before Redeemer King.

Oh, listen to creation’s praise,
Redemption is at hand.
All nature sings, to Christ our King,
Just as our Maker planned.

Christ our Glorious Conductor,
Brings all in harmony.
We are His wondrous creation.
And thus we’ll always be.

Don E. Cunningham, P.O.P. ©6/6/2009 296

PSALM 148
1 Praise ye the LORD. Praise ye the LORD from the heavens: praise him in the heights. 2 Praise ye him, all his angels: praise ye him, all his hosts. 3 Praise ye him, sun and moon: praise him, all ye stars of light. 4 Praise him, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above the heavens. 5 Let them praise the name of the LORD: for he commanded, and they were created. 6 He hath also established them forever and ever: he hath made a decree which shall not pass.
7 Praise the LORD from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps: 8 Fire, and hail; snow, and vapour; stormy wind fulfilling his word: 9 Mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars: 10 Beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl: 11 Kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of the earth: 12 Both young men, and maidens; old men, and children: 13 Let them praise the name of the LORD: for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and heaven. 14 He also exalteth the horn of his people, the praise of all his saints; even of the children of Israel, a people near unto him. Praise ye the LORD.

ROMANS 8
18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. 19 For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; 21 because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. 23 Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body. 24 For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.

I hope this poem will encourage you as we look forward to the day when our Glorious Conductor "strikes up the band" and Creation's Concert begins.

Please plan to stop back frequently to enjoy more of my poems when I post them.

Hugs, In Christ's and My Love,

Don E. Cunningham, Patriarch Octogenarian Poet copyright 8/13/09

Don's Poetry List

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 20:46:00 +0000

It has been several weeks since I posted to my blog. For a long time I have thought about changing the address and name of my blog to make it better reflect a focus on my poetry. Beginning with this blog my blog site has been changed to:
http://doncunninghampoetry.blogspot.com/
I appreciate the time Sherryl Masterman has spent reorganizing and renaming the blog site. I would be lost without her expertise in fixing the many problems I create on my computer.
My planning was further set back with a couple of medical issues. I had a small Transitional Ischemia Attack, resulting in left Carotid surgery from which I am still recuperating. The following week I had a gastro-esophageal endoscope which resulted in a series of biopsies all of which thankfully turned out negative. However, I learned that I have inadequate blood flow to my stomach to help digest my meals. I am now learning to eat 6 smaller meals a day to aid in the process. I have written poems about the TIA and stomach which I will share with you in a later blog.
I have over one hundred poems I have written that I will be sharing with you over the coming months. I received an email requesting that I provide a list of poems I already published to my previous blog. Here is the list in alphabetical order:
A Song of Thanksgiving 11/30/08
Brave Dead 5/26/08
Bravely You Went Forth 5/17/08
Brother Guy 4/28/08
Christmas Pondering 12/29/07
Christmas Tidings, 2008 11/30/08
Creation's Concert 8/13/09
Divorce and God’s Grace 7/13/07
Divorce’s Depression & Forgiveness Delight 7/9/07 With Scripture 12/6/07
Enduring Love 2/22/08
Feeling Healthy, Fever Free 1/29/08 & 6/29/08
Fountain Lady 8/23/09
Half Marble 4/9/08
Hang His Suit Upon The Door 4/7/08
Homeland Heroes 5/24/08
I Forgot 7/23/08
Majestic Cardinal 11/28/07
Married No More (Sharon) 12/6/07
Medicine Man Blues 6/29/08
My Old Dented Bucket 12/24/07
Omnipotent Ones 6/29/08
Our Dear Joyce (Eulogy) 3/14/07
Our Silver Bells Ring 7/2/07
Predators of the Poor 7/4/08
Requiem To Leaves 12/13/08
Sharing and Caring 6/27/07
Slippers 9/30/07
So Let Me Love 5/22/07
Teabag of Life 6/5/08
The Little Sexton 6/12/08
The Musket Shot 6/28/08
The Wall Between 4/23/07
White Birch 11/25/08
Your Look Of Love 2/19/07 & 7/10/07

If you want to receive new postings as I post them please subscribe to my site. You can do this by going down the left side of the screen and click on the subscribe in a reader like “google” or bookmark “Don’s Poetry.”
If you would like to challenge me to write a poem on a specific clean subject or interest area please drop me a note at my email address:
don.e.cunningham@gmail.com
In The next day or two I will be posting one of my favorite poems to this site. It is titled: “Creation’s Concert.” I hope you will return to read it.
Hugs, In Christ’s and My Love,
Don E. Cunningham, Patriarch Octogenarian Poet ©8/12/09 485

EASTER HOPE

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 22:53:00 +0000

As we age our Easter Hope becomes clearer and clearer. Our family members and many friends have past through the curtain of death. Their souls have entered through the Heavenly gate and await the resurrection reunion with their new incorruptible and immortal bodies. Because of Easter they died in hope.

Easter time brings to mind the “lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world.” The brutal savage slaying of our Passover lamb moves from the gory scene of Calvary to the glory of the empty tomb. We go from death’s despair to resurrection hope!

I was told recently by a young friend that some of my poems were too dark and heavy for him. He went on to say as he read the “heavy stuff” he became sad, but as he read on to the end he moved from sadness to hope. Almost, without exception, my poems that walk through the valley of the shadow of death move in the light of God’s love toward us and our hope that is eternal.

Many of my poems are light hearted and speak of the beauty of God’s creation that surrounds us. As an Octogenarian poet I am also surrounded by pain, suffering and death about which I also write. Frankly, if it were not for the love and hope I have through my loving Savior’s death, resurrection and ascension the golden nuggets of the truth in my poems reflecting a beautiful eternal life that leads us through the curtain of death would not blossom forth.

It has been almost a year since my youngest and last brother died. I have written a poem based on what his doctor told my niece shortly before he died. It is my prayer that as you read it you will see the LOVE and HOPE we have in the glorious history of Easter. My poem follows:

HANG HIS SUIT UPON THE DOOR
Go hang his suit upon the door,
I cannot treat him anymore.
He may not live another day.
That’s what she heard his doctor say.

“Hang his suit on the door,” Doc said,
“It won’t be long before he’s dead.
His battered body won’t survive,
Can’t tell what’s keeping him alive.”

“Remove the tubes and stop the pills,
Nothing we do will cure his ills.
Kidneys don’t work, his heart is bad,
Done all we can for this old lad.”

“We’ll send him home and let him die,
With loved one dear can heave last sigh.
She’ll hold his hand; they’ll share their love,
Walk to the portal up above.”

Their final words have all been said,
Now he lies silent on his bed.
Go take his suit from off the door,
For he will wear it just once more.

He lies now in the coffin drear,
Voices of loved ones cannot hear.
His suit upon him neatly drapes,
And on his door there hangs a crepe.

Watch for the Resurrection day,
He will arise, suit drops away.
His body will immortal be,
Clothed in white robe eternally.

Don E. Cunningham, P.O.P. ©3/14/09 200

Shortly before my youngest brother, Guy, died, when my niece, Elizabeth, asked what could be done for him, the doctor told her to “Hang his suit upon the door.” Upon Elizabeth’s insistence the doctors released him to go home to spend his final hours with his wife Shirley. He died several hours later, having had the opportunity to interact with his wife and to share their final words of loving release. This poem is dedicated to them and their enduring loving devotion to each other.

Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.
I Corinthians 15:51-53 (NKJV)

I trust that whatever may be your circumstances you will find joy, peace and hope in the glorious resurrection that awaits us.

Hugs in Christ’s and My Love,

DAY OF THE DEAD AUCTION

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 15:23:00 +0000

Dear Friends,

In my previous blog I showed some of Sharon's art work in the form of Cigar Box Shrines and explained the background of Dia Los De Muertas (Day of the Dead). I also gave Sharon's explanation of each of the shrines.

The auction site is now up. It is: http://auctions.readysetauction.com/sicys/home

Sharon's shrines are on the third page. Be certain to click "View" to see them and if you are interested on hers or others please place a bid on them. It will help children in Oaxaco, Mexico.

Bid, Bid, Bid!

Hugs, In Christ's and my love,

Don E. Cunningham, Patriarch Octogenarian Poet

LOVE AND PRECIOUS MEMORIES

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 22:00:00 +0000

A few years ago, when I was active in pastoral care ministry I had close ties with local mortuaries and the cemetery staff. During that time the cemetery was adding a cremains rose garden and had a contest to name it. My suggestion was “Precious Memories” Rose Garden. It was chosen. When it came time to dedicate the Garden I was asked to give the dedicatory message.

Preceding the service on a very cold blustery December night the director decided to have the luminaries lit first. It took about an hour to light them throughout the cemetery. Due to my asthma and the freezing cold, my wife, Sharon insisted that I remain in the car. By the time they finished everyone was chilled to the bone. The director had asked me to speak for fifteen minutes, but I knew that I better trim my message back. Sharon held a flashlight on my text as I read, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” (Psalm 116:16)

The theme of my dedicatory message was: coupled with God’s caring love for us at our death so the memories of the lives of our loved ones are also precious. I quickly picked key thoughts in my message and concluded in less than five minutes.

Recently, Sharon, was asked to participate in making little cigar box shrines for a “Day of the Dead” art show which she then donated for a fund raising auction to help meet the needs of children in Oaxaca, Mexico. As you may know Dia De Los Muertos is a Mexican celebration honoring their dead. In a sense it is a celebration of our Precious Memories of loved ones.
If you would like to know more about the poor families in Oaxaca, Mexico and their needs please visit the website: http://www.oaxacastreetchildrengrassroots.org/

You may wish to participate in the auction. To whet your appetite I am going to include photos of the four cigar box shrines Sharon created. Instead of candles all of them contain little battery powered lights.

The first one is titled: “Treasures in Heaven”

TREASURES IN HEAVEN

LIT TREASURES IN HEAVEN

In the lower portion of the shrine are things that disintegrate such as wood, bones and earthly things. Above is a crown of glory given by God and on top are angels rejoicing.
“Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth….”

The second is titled: TUSCAN SHRINE.

Tuscan Shrine shows reflections of love, a celebration of outdoors. You can place photo of loved one on the stone step.
It is based on our Lord’s commands. “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another. “John 13:35
“Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.” John 15:8

The third is titled: LOVE IS THE KEY

LOVE IS THE KEY Has a mosaic edge around the top. It is a celebration of Christian Love as symbolized in the Agape Supper (communion)
The key and gate symbolize passage into love and dr awing closer to family and the Lord.
This shrine is based on the scripture:
The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.” (Jeremiah 31.3)

The final one is: Bringing Hope and Light

The doves are a simple of hope and the candle represents Light. Blue symbolizes eternity.
It is based on a portion of Saint Francis of Assisi’s prayer: “Where there is despair let me sow hope; where there is darkness, light.”

There are many more shrines created by several creative artists in our area. If you would like to see additional shrines please visit:
http://www.corazon.typepad.com/

Beginning March 1 through March 31 there will be an on-line auction at a specially set up web site. It will not be up and running until March 1, 2009. I will be posting the link to it on my blog on March 1, 2009. I hope you will come back to my blog during the month of March and follow the link to that site. If you see items you like please bid on them between March 1 and 31, 2009. You may be a winner.

The following is a Valentine anniversary poem I wrote about my wife to celebrate our 28th wedding anniversary.

ENDURING LOVE

I saw her first in Sunday School,
A beauty to behold.
A smiling face with bright blue eyes,
And hair aglow like gold.

As I began to talk with her,
I felt we could relate.
It was a new experience,
I took her on a date.

Full moon reflected off the pool,
Her hair had a halo.
Did she like me? I could not tell,
Would take some time to know.

A poem she wrote about that date,
She too was wondering.
What did I think, how would I act,
Was I there for a fling?

I loved her by our second date,
So beautiful and smart.
This lovely lady, oh, so sweet,
Had smitten this man’s heart.

We had not hugged nor even kissed,
I knew she was the one.
I would pursue her heart and soul,
Until her LOVE I won.

They say beauty is just skin deep
The thought my heart doth scorn.
Her beauty is not just her skin
It is also inborn.

She took her time, she was not sure,
That I was the right guy.
The poems we shared and fun we had,
The knot helped me to tie.

She said, “Yes.” My heart overflowed,
For soon she would be mine.
The day we set to tie the knot,
Honored Saint Valentine.

The time flew by so rapidly,
Since we first had that date,
We’ve walked along a love strewn path,
The years are twenty-eight.

Valentine’s Day means much to us,
It was our wedding day.
We share our lives with many hugs,
Our LOVE is here to stay.
Don E. Cunningham ©1/29/09 272 words

May the precious memories of loved ones grace your lives in a very special place in your hearts.

Hugs, In Christ’s and My Love,

Don E. Cunningham
slyhog@cableone.net

SUPER BOWL OF SORROWS!

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 22:25:00 +0000

Everything is all hyped up; the Arizona Cardinals are in the Super Bowl! On the news last night a psychologist was interviewed who stated that when a MAN’s team wins it increases his testosterone levels, gives him an ego boost and makes him feel more like he looks better in the eyes of lady friends. It struck me when he said that win or lose Super Bowl Sunday is the most dangerous day of the year for women and children.

Past statistics have shown that there is a large increase in spousal and child abuse on Super Bowl sundays. I believe the additional economic woes such as job loss, financial indebtedness, home foreclosures and worry about where the next meal is coming from will increase the danger of spousal and child abuse over this Super Bowl weekend.

Back on May 29, 2007 I published the following observations about Domestic Violence. I feel with the dangers related to Super Bowl hype, drinking, and family abuse it would be an appropriate time to republish it to my blog. My hope is that it will be helpful to any of you who may be in a cycle of Domestic Violence. My prayers are with you.

FAMILY FRUSTRATIONS, FEARS & FATALITIES.

This second week of our workshop I want to look at FAMILY FRUSTRATIONS, FEARS & FATALITIES - Dysfunctional Marriage and Separation.To begin I would like to raise the question: "What are some of the signs of a dysfunctional marriage?"

"THE FEARLESS ARE MERELY FEARLESS, THOSE WHO ACT IN SPITE OF THEIR FEAR ARE TRULY BRAVE" James A. Landford-Lewis

I salute those of you who are facing your fears in the presence of domestic violence. I hope the following will be of help to you.Physical, verbal and spiritual abuse is an area at the top of my list of the signs of dysfunctional marriages.While abuse can be by either spouse in most instances it is by the male partner. Statistics show that 85% of domestic violence is against women and only 15% against male partners.I hope you will look beyond statistics into the eyes and fearful hearts of those women, children and men who are victims of the crime of domestic violence.

As I reflected upon this area in the context of my past volunteer experience I felt I should spend more time presenting it, as it is a major problem facing families today.Yes, it does happen in Christian homes, too. It is of such major importance that we will spend the whole, slightly longer than usual, session on this aspect of a dysfunctional marriage.A few years ago I was a volunteer with our local Sheriff's Department.

After training I was assigned to patrol duty for a few months. In the fall of 2000, following my recuperation from quadruple bypass surgery I was placed on special assignment with the Victim Witness Unit of the County Attorney's office. A large part of our crisis intervention training focused on sexual assault and victims of spousal and child abuse. It was an eye opener.While this will make today's session longer, I am attaching some of the material related to domestic violence I received during training. I hope it will be helpful to you. Look with me at the startling statistics:

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE FACTS:

At the time of my training the following statistical facts were presented:
1 out of 3 women is sexually abused.
Every 7.4 seconds a woman is battered in the United States.
Over 1.8 million American women are beaten by their partners, although only 1 out of 10 beatings are ever reported.
Out of 4 million reported incidents of domestic violence each year, almost 20% are aggravated assault.
Domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women between the ages of 15 and 44 than all the car accidents, mugging and rapes combined.
42% of murdered women are killed by their intimate male partners.

FOR ADDITIONAL UPDATED FACTS GO TO: http://www.endabuse.org/resources/facts/

You may ask, "Am I in a relationship which may lead to battering?"Here are some factors to look at:
Yes, you may be a Battered Person if you:

Are frightened of your partner's temper
Are often compliant because you are afraid to hurt your partner's feelings or are afraid of your partner's anger;
Have the urge to "rescue" your partner when your partner is in trouble;
Find yourself apologizing for your partner's behavior when you are treated badly;
Have been hit, kicked, shoved or had things thrown at you by your partner when your partner was jealous or angry;
Make decisions about activities and friends according to what your partner wants or how your partner will react;
Drink heavily or use drugs;
Have been abused as a child or seen a parent abused or battered.

Another important question to ask is, "Am I possibly a batterer?

"Yes, you may be a Batterer if you:
Are very jealous
Sulk silently when upset
Have an explosive temper
Criticize and put down your partner a lot
Have difficulty expressing feelings
Drink heavily or use drugs
Believe that it is your role to be in charge, or have contempt for the opposite sex
Are protective of your partner to the point of controlling
Control your partner's behavior, money and decisions
Have broken things, thrown things at your partner, hit, shoved, or kicked your partner when angry
Were physically or emotionally abused by a parent
Have a parent who was abusive or a batterer

5T603 (289) Arizona Department of Economic SecurityWith the dangers related to spousal abuse it is important to look at some of the factors that keep battered women in relationships:

WHY BATTERED WOMEN STAY:

While people ask, "Why don't battered women just leave?" the real question is "Why do we, as a society, tolerate such tremendous violence by men against women?"Instead of blaming the victim, advocates and others need to understand the situation in which battered women find themselves, and the obstacles battered women may encounter in their attempts to leave an abusive relationship.

Her childhood - 60% of battered women grew up in homes where either they were abused or they witnessed their mother's abuse.
Many battered women accept violence as a way of life and do not realize that they have a right to not be beaten.

Isolation - Batterers systematically destroy women's friendships and family ties. Many battered women have little contact with other people. Others feel uncomfortable around abuse and withdraw from it. The woman is further isolated by her felt need to hide bruises, black eyes or other injuries. Some women have been met with denial, rejection or abandonment in their attempts to reach out to others for help. Isolation leaves the victim psychologically dependent on the batterer as her only support system.

Economic dependence -Economic abuse is a common tactic used by abusers to retain power over the victim. Many victims are routinely prevented from working and/or gaining marketable skills. She may be denied access to checks, cash or important documents, leaving her economically dependent on the abuser. Government assistance is very limited and many women dread welfare. A victim may feel she has no real alternative.Low self-worth - After months or years of accepting insults, blame and violence, many women feel they are incapable of taking care of themselves. She may believe that the success or failure of the relationship is all her responsibility. Many battered women feel they are failures as wives, mothers and women because they do not know how to avoid or stop the abuse. The batterer reinforces these beliefs as a means of controlling his victim.

Fear -More battered women are murdered while trying to flee than at any other time in the abusive relationship. The FBI reports that more than 1,400 women are murdered every year by current or former husbands or boyfriends. Statistics show that about 80% of women who stay in abusive relationships do so out of fear. Threats of retaliation against her if she leaves are routine in battering relationships, and the victim has reason to believe that the threats will be carried out.Batterer's threats often include the woman's friends, children and other family members, so she stays out of fear for the safety of others. Not only the batterer, but his extendedfamily and friends will often threaten, harass, intimidate and harm the woman if she does seek help.Fears about whether they will be able to provide for their children also keep women with batterers.

Guilt & shame - Women often believe that they are responsible for the crime. They may feel ashamed about having been beaten or raped. The batterer will reinforce this belief with his undiminished lack of accountability and his contentions that she "provoked" him. They may feel guilty for not figuring out a way to stop the violence themselves, or for separating the children from their father. Societal attitudes help perpetuate victim-blaming.Promises to change - Women believe batterers' assurances that they are sorry and promise that it will never happen again. She may love him and believe that if she is patient enough, he will stop the violence. While some women want the relationship to continue, they are clear about wanting the violence to stop.

Denial and Minimalization - If the batterer denies or minimizes the abuse, it can be dangerous for the woman to contradict him or to report the intentional injuries as such. The woman may use denial of the abuse as a means of protecting herself.One of the things that sticks in my mind is the "Cycle of abuse"

It is outlined as follows:Cycle of Violence: (This can cover a long or short period of time)First comes the EXPLOSION/FIGHT intermeshed with Violence & FearThis is followed by reconciliation and entry into what is called:"HONEYMOON" PHASE During this phase:Behavior MinimizedLovingFeelings of guiltRemorse "It will never happen again"Following this:TENSION BUILDS During this phase we see:Poor Communication, Frustation, Stress, Increased conflictsThis spirals into another Explosion/Fight and the cycle repeats itself

This Continuum of Family Violence continues in a downward spiral until intervention helps to break the cycle or murder or suicide occur.Yes, it is a grim but true picture of the realities of domestic violence.IT IS IMPORTANT TO HAVE A SAFETY PLAN FOR WHEN VIOLENCE OCCURS.It is a difficult decision to leave an abusive situation, can be extremely dangerous and must be carefully planned.I cannot emphasize enough that you be certain to quietly explore local resources that are available to you.They can provide guidance in helping you develop a plan to leave. You can also obtain assistance by calling 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). In emergencies, 24 hours a day, phone 9-1-1. Old charged cell phones can be used to reach 9-1-1.

Although you may not be considering the possibility, it is very important to be prepared. An abuser often can become more dangerous when they believe their partner is leaving the relationship.WARNING: Never leave information where it can be readily found by an abusive spouse.Please take steps to increase your safety and future choices!

My wife remembers the terror she felt when her alcoholic step father argued with and physically abused her mother. As a young child she recalls being threatened by him and having him point a gun at her.Don't let it continue to happen with your family.

I hope you are in a Christian fellowship that understands the seriousness of domestic violence and will support you during your perilous journey to safety and a vital new life.

THERE IS HEALING AND HOPE FOR YOU AS A VERY SPECIAL CHILD OF OUR LOVING GOD! YOU ARE PRECIOUS IN HIS AND MY SIGHT.

If you are a Christian who is not a victim of domestic violence please learn more about services for victims in your community . Become knowledgable of resources and be available to those who need your support. Help battered women and children gain a fresh start in life.

My special thanks to Toni and Monteze for their insights regarding this subject. We are thankful to have folks like these working in local agencies such as Yavapai Family Advocacy Center, Stepping Stones, Faith House and the Victim Witness Program all of whom are committed to providing support services to victims of domestic violence and other forms of abuse.

I know that today we have looked at a very difficult subject but, I hope it has been helpful to you and that you will join me next week when I present other aspects of dysfunctional marriages.
Remember, each week we will look separately at topics on divorce and remarriage.

Hugs, In Christ's and My Love,
Don E. Cunningham, Author (Copyright 5-29-2007)
Posted by Don @ 6:11 PM 0 comments permalink

I hope this information will be helpful to you as you confront your issues of life.

HUGS, IN CHRIST’S AND MY LOVE,

Don E. Cunningham, Author/Poet ©1/31/2009 2,182

THEN COMETH THE WINTER

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sat, 13 Dec 2008 22:34:00 +0000

Before I begin my blog posting today I want to make readers aware of a website posting by our local paper about a presentation and book signing to be held by a dear author friend from our writers group. After co writing a book with her sister about their childhood on a farm she decided to write a children’s book. You can learn more about it by following this link.

http://www.pvtrib.com/main.asp?Search=1&ArticleID=48943&SectionID=1&SubSectionID=1&S=1

Click photo to enlarge it.

If you have young children it will be a fun book to buy for them. Contact information is given on the website.

THEN COMETH THE WINTER

It was a wonderful autumn. The weather was warmer than normal, fall colors were beautiful, my health has improved and the sky was crystal clear.

Today, however, all of that changed. The wind is blustering from the North, the trees are bare, the sun infrequently peaks from behind the harsh dark clouds circling the mountains. Snow is forecast overnight and into next week. Of course, the snow here only remains on the ground for a few hours or occasionally a day or two.

This ending cycle of the year causes one to reflect upon the often times harshness of life realities. Those of us who have had loved ones pass away during the Christmas holidays enter the season with mixed emotions. It is a time of JOY with the blessing of Christ’s birth and the blessed memories. It is also a time of loneliness and loss.

Yesterday, I finished reworking and finalizing my latest poem. It speaks to the falling leaves and the fading of life. It is the reality we see in nature and our experience as the harsh winter approaches. Beyond that it presents the Resurrection hope we have because Jesus was born, crucified and rose again. I hope that whatever your “winter of life may be” you will live in the warmth of His birth and Love!

REQIUEM TO LEAVES

Jack frost bites, the leaves change color,
Their beauty we behold.
The story of the leaves demise,
In beauty doth unfold.

Majestic colors of the leaf,
Sets our hearts aglow.
We wish the rolling hills ablaze
Forever on would flow.

The wind doth blow with gentle breeze,
It rustles in the leaves,
They lose their grip and flutter down,
The tree their loss it grieves.

The leaves are raked in piles high,
In them the children play.
Until at last a match is lit,
And some are burned away.

But other piles are turned to mulch,
Within them worms will live.
Mixed with black dirt they help the trees
The branches new leaves give.

So it is with the lives of men,
It is a scriptural truth.
A body with strong muscles draped,
The beauty of our youth,

But in the winter of our lives,
Gray hair our glory is.
A signal that our lives are short,
Before eternal bliss.

So as our bodies fall away,
And on a slab we lie.
It is appointed to all men,
That at some point we die.

Like leaves a choice is given each,
To bury or to burn.
Our souls took flight, bodies in earth,
For resurrection yearn.

Bodies, creatures, plants, trees, await,
Our resurrection day.
When bodies rise, to live again,
And death doth steal away.

All creation will be renewed,
Beauty all will attain.
Our bodies will immortal be,
We sing a new refrain!

Look at the leaves and think about,
Our ever loving Lord.
The beauty of all nature sings,
By all He is adored.

Our Savior comes, Creator God,
His praises now we sing.
Around His throne our knees we bend,
Our Savior, Lord and King!

Don E. Cunningham, Patriarch Octogenarian Poet © 11/19/2008 299 words.

Romans3:19-21(NASV) For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope, that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God

MAY YOU HAVE A BLESSED CHRISTMAS AND A “FINE 2009”

HUGS, IN CHRIST’S AND MY LOVE

Don E. Cunningham, P.O.P. ©12/13/08 707

THANKSGIVING & CHRISTMAS GREETINGS

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 20:56:00 +0000

It is the time of year that many become so busy trying to find the perfect gift for loved ones; attempting to figure out how they will pay for it and run at such a hectic pace that they miss the true meaning of Thanksgiving and Christmas.

As I have grown older and become less active I find myself thinking about all the things I have to be thankful for and reflecting on the blessings of the past year. I have a wonderful caring wife, improved health, and had the opportunity for the first time in years to visit my oldest son and nieces and nephews back in Troy, New York where I was born and grew up.

The day before Thanksgiving I went to see my heart specialist. When I go for my checkups I take along poems that I've recently written which he and his wife enjoy reading. This time I took two of the poems I wrote after returning home from my trip along with my Christmas poem-letter. He asked me if I had written one for Thanksgiving. I told him I was planning to write one; which I did on Thanksgiving day.

I am attaching both my Thanksgiving and my Christmas poem letter. I hope they will encourage you to take a few moments from the hectic Christmas rat race and reflect upon the blessings in your life.

A SONG OF THANKSGIVING

A soft intermittent rain gently washes the faces of the few leaves remaining on the tree outside my window. Its work finished, small droplets glide from the edges of the leaves to the earth below. As the rain slows to a misty halt a breeze dries the moistened leaves and gently lifts them from the security of the branches allowing them to float blissfully to the ground. It twirls them in a mystical dance across the damp pavement and lets them rest against the rounded curb. Their journey is complete.

With their departure from the tree I can see more clearly through the naked branches, the unfurled flag fluttering in the breeze. A reminder of the price of peace we enjoy. A prelude to a day of Thanksgiving. Rejoice my soul; let me sing praises, not only to my God, but to his creation and his creatures. To those who so gallantly give their all that I might know the joy of freedom.

A song of Thanksgiving springs forth from my soul. The withered leaves of bygone trials gently slip away. The peace of God’s Spirit guides me to see the multitude of myriad benefits He bestows upon me, moment by moment.

PSALM 138

The Lord’s Goodness to the Faithful
A Psalm Of David.
I will praise You with my whole heart; Before the gods I will sing praises to You. I will worship toward Your holy temple, And praise Your name For Your loving-kindness and Your truth;
For You have magnified Your word above all Your name. In the day when I cried out, You answered me, And made me bold with strength in my soul.

All the kings of the earth shall praise You, O Lord, When they hear the words of Your mouth. Yes, they shall sing of the ways of the Lord, For great is the glory of the Lord. Though the Lord is on high, Yet He regards the lowly; But the proud He knows from afar. Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me; You will stretch out Your hand against the wrath of my enemies, And Your right hand will save me. The Lord will perfect that which concerns me;

Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever; Do not forsake the works of Your hands.

My Christmas poem – letter has already been mailed to my family and friends. Some have been receiving Christmas letters from me for over 50 years. Sharon and I always wait with anticipation for the Christmas cards and letters we receive. They give us an update on how family and friends are doing. I hope some of you who visit my blog regularly will leave a comment on my blog letting me know how you are doing. My Christmas poem -- letter follows:

CHRISTMAS TIDINGS, 2008

The winter winds howled roundabout,
Greeting a brand new year.
I sat there in my old bathrobe,
Hooked to oxygen gear.

A grand New Year was beginning
But I was feeling blue.
Little energy to do much,
What lay in store God knew.

Xolair was doing its job well,
As I was soon to learn.
My health was starting to improve,
Day tank I soon would spurn.

Springtime came with fresh breath of air,
And I was feeling good.
I asked if I could travel home,
By fall Docs said I could.

But Sharon faced some health issues,
Fibro and shingles too.
Food allergies began to peak,
What could my poor gal do?

Then heartbreak hit in late April,
Brother Guy passed away,
I was titled a Patriarch,
I did not feel that way.

My poetry continued on.
So much to write about.
Of life, humor and politics,
I had to get it out.

In August to New Mexico,
Dear Mykie was to wed,
It was a very joyous trip,
The aisle she did tread.

Now we have a grandson in law,
An Irish lad named Quinn,
We pray them both the very best,
A blissful life to win.

I took an Amtrak train back east,
To visit family,
The fellowship with son was great,
Treated like royalty.

Nieces and Nephews gathered round,
To listen to my tales,
Stories of family’s bygone days,
I did them all regale.

To visit family and friends,
Was such a special treat.
The memories came flooding back,
Each one was very neat.

Now in the winter of my life,
Old friends have passed away.
I can rejoice in blessed hope,
Celebrate Christmas Day!

Sharon and I, blessed in our love,
Send words of Christmas cheer,
We pray for you the very best,
In the upcoming year.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY 2009

HUGS, IN CHRIST’S AND OUR LOVE,

DON AND SHARON CUNNINGHAM

As each of us face difficulties in the coming year here is a good verse to meditate on:

James 1:12 Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial; for once he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.

May the Love of Christ dwell in you richly. I pray you have a blessed Merry Christmas and that you will be "FINE IN 09"

HUGS, IN CHRIST'S AND MY LOVE,

WHITE BIRCH

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 16:59:00 +0000

It was a clear autumn day as we drove up through the Adirondack Mountains toward Fort Ticonderoga. Many of the trees were displaying their beautiful fall colors. They stretched out like a multicolored blanket before us. They flowed like an un-ending River across the broad expanse of the Adirondacks.

Along the edge of the highway I saw massive slate walls that had been carved out to make way for this wide straight road. As we drove past them I caught glimpses of magnificent white birches growing out of the shear slate pallets of nature. To me it was an awesome sight. As my nephew drove along at highway speed I attempted to take photos of these wonders of creation.

As we approached clusters of them I asked Fred to slow down so I could get clearer pictures. It became a point of humor in the car. The laughter increased when I said, “There is a poem in those white birches growing out of the solid slate rock.”

The following week my nephew was driving me to visit a former secretary and her family now living in northern Vermont. Once again we saw the magnificent yellow leaved white birch growing out the slate rock. He laughingly slowed down so I could attempt to get blur free photos of the scene. It worked as can be seen by one of the photos shown below.

He thoroughly enjoyed my repeated comments about a poem being somewhere in the birch trees. During the remainder of my visit with them he would occasionally ask me if I had found the poem in the birch trees yet. I told him that when I got home I was sure I would find one.

Upon my return home I continued to mull over in my mind how I could find the poem in the birch tree. A few days ago I went on to the Internet and researched facts on several sites about birch trees and their many uses. Between the mulling over and the research the following poem was created.

WHITE BIRCH

While we traveled down the highway,
I saw a special tree,
It was growing out of slate rock,
Beautiful as could be.

Adorned in leaves of bright yellow,
With bark as white as snow.
It blessed me in a special way,
It had a wondrous glow.

I wondered how the seed got there,
How it began to sprout?
How in a small hole in a rock,
Its roots somehow spread out?

What nourished it and made it grow,
Why did it choose that spot?
While rich black earth lay by so near,
It chose a different lot.

A softer life it might have had,
With nourishment galore,
It chose a harder place to grow,
A plush life did ignore.

Within that tree Indians saw,
Much more than you and me.
The beauty of the white birch bark,
Was its utility.

They stripped the bark nine layers thick,
And turned it inside out.
Made a canoe and sealed it well,
On rivers got about.

Canoes were light and portable.
Carried through forest land,
Yet heavy loads were placed in them,
Their usage was well planned.

They built their wigwams with the bark,
They made them snug and tight,
Overlapped layers on the frame,
Were water proof all right.

Much more they saw in that white bark,
Conceived within their minds,
Made rattles, moose calls, containers
Of, oh, so many kinds.

They tapped the trees and drunk the sap,
And boiled it for tea,
It sweetened up their medicines,
As nice as they could be.

And if a famine came along,
Eat inner bark as meal.
When it is cold, burn it for fuel,
To make them warmer feel.

Oh, yes, white birch I see you there,
With branches all wide spread,
Your beauty and utility,
Brings history to my head.

Don E. Cunningham, Patriarch Octogenarian Poet
11/12/2008 654 words

HISTORY IN A DRAWER

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 17:19:00 +0000

For over 11 years, due to poor health, I was unable to travel back home to Troy, New York.

Over the last year and a half I have been receiving Xolair treatments for my severe allergic asthma. It worked so well with me that I was able to get off my daytime oxygen. This fall my doctors decided to allow me to take a train trip back to visit friends and relatives in Troy. It turned into a trip with a rainbow of blessings.

The first Saturday we were there, my niece, Elizabeth, and her family, with whom my son and I stayed, planned an open house for us. It turned into a time of fellowship and fun with nieces and nephews I had not seen for several years. One of the unexpected delights was everyone signing their names inside a desk drawer from our old Sunday school room at Millis Memorial Baptist Church. When we were growing up all of my siblings except one had signed our names or nicknames inside the drawer and dated them.

My nephew, Steve, bought the old desk from the church group now meeting there. He thought it would be fun to continue the family tradition and brought the drawer with him for the nieces and nephews to sign. It was fun to watch them as they signed their names next to a parent or grandparent. Some of the signatures go back three generations. My nephew will see the name of family members every time he opens his desk drawer. A little bit of family history will flash through his mind as he reads them.

Similar to the names in the drawer are the memories we file away in the desk drawers of our minds. While back home many of the memories from my youth flashed through my mind. My son, nieces, and nephews enjoyed listening to me share my reveries. What a blessing it was to visit many of the scenes of my youth. It was a delight to my soul to think of the events and the people who touched my life during my youth. Some of those memories already appear in my poetry. I feel certain many more will come to mind in poetic form through the rejuvenation I felt during my visit home.

Another major blessing during my stay was to visit my family's gravesite and to see the beautiful new headstone over my parents and little sister’s graves. After 68 years it is a joy to finally see them memorialized! I also learned that one of my nieces, Debby, has faithfully maintained our family plot for several years.

At my age it is fun to mingle pleasant memories from the past with the ones I accrue day by day in the present. What a large drawer full of blessed memories I have stored away in my heart and mind!

As the holidays are fast approaching I hope you'll take the time, before things become too hectic to meander through your special drawer of memories. I know during the holidays life can become weary, even depressing. If that is the case with you right now may I suggest, in those dark moments of the soul, it is a good time to reflect back on special blessings.

Hug, in Christ’s and my love,

Don E. Cunningham, Patriarch Octogenarian Poet 11/12/08 562

OUR JOURNEY TO OUR GRANDDAUGHTER'S WEDDING

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 21:36:00 +0000

Sharon and I had the joy of attending my granddaughter’s wedding in New Mexico. It was the first time in several years that my doctors permitted me to travel. The journey and the wedding were double blessings.

Our portable GPS navigation device helped us find our way there, including finding where to pick up my son David at the Albuquerque airport. The tom-tom navigator proved to be very patient when I took wrong turns or failed to follow her directions, she redirected me back on to the correct route. For that reason I’ve nicknamed her “Gracie”.

The night preceding the wedding we were invited to a barbecue at her aunt and uncle’s ranch in a remote area outside of Cerrillos, New Mexico. Even with Gracie’s soft-spoken directions I missed the little country road leading toward the ranch. After driving a couple miles beyond that, I saw two motorcyclists parked in a little parking area alongside the highway. I stopped to ask directions. The fellow responded in a heavy English accent. His two friends on another motorcycle also spoke with heavy accents. He took out his map and said it appeared that we had come too far.

After getting directions from them I asked where they were from. One responded that he was from England the other two said they were Australians. I thanked them for coming all the way to New Mexico just to give me directions. They laughed as I slowly turned back in the direction from which I had come. The road where we were to turn looked like the entry to a small trailer court. We traveled down a narrow paved highway and then turned onto a washboard dirt road. The suspension on my Prius got a good workout. The barbecue and fellowship that night was fun.

The following day we journeyed back from Santa Fe to Cerrillos and drove up another washboard road to a beautiful resort. The wedding took place on an open patio with a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains. White clouds danced against a blue sky throughout the wedding ceremony.

During the service the minister was handed a velvet pouch containing the two rings. She announced that preceding the ring exchange she wanted each person attending the service to hold the pouch with the rings, in their hands, and say a prayer or make a wish for Mykie and Quinn. Sharon and I enfolded it between our hands and asked that their wedding and marriage might be as blessed as ours.

The reception and food following the ceremony was an equally joyous occasion. I took over 300 photos on my little digital camera, and plan to share them with family members. Of course, I am certain ones taken by the professional photographer will be much better than mine.

A humorous experience happened while we were driving back to our hotel room. Gracie suddenly told me at the next stop sign to take a left and follow the road to Interstate 25. I knew we had gotten on to the highway up further on the highway so disregarded her directions. We traveled about ½ mile down the road when I saw numerous flashing red lights and a line of cars Gracie apparently had tried to guide me around a DUI checkpoint. We waited several minutes before arriving at the checkpoint. I have attached a poem about what happened. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did the experience.

While it was a very long journey for us it was time of abundant blessing.

“Gracie”

I was driving down the highway,
At speeds the law allowed.
My GPS I call, “Gracie”
Said, “Left avoid the crowd.”

I thought she was a-naggin’ me,
So did not heed her cry.
I travelled down the pike a mile,
A check point caught my eye.

I sat there waiting for awhile,
Until it was my turn.
Patrolman flashed light in my eyes,
His words I could not spurn.

I rolled up to the spot he said,
To see a charming lass,
A breathalyzer in her hand,
A test I had to pass.

"It’s strictly voluntary sir,"
“Would you please volunteer.”
“The pleasure would be mine,” I said.
“My breath will be quite clear.”

“My asthma may affect the puff,”
“But I will do my best.”
Gave out a breath long as I could,
And, Lo I passed the test.

“You did real well, you can move on,”
She said with pleasant tone.
I sought a voluntary hug,
One she could call her own.

She smiled at me and I reached out,
Could she my hug test pass?
And there while traffic was backed up,
I hugged the charming lass.

I smiled at her and softly said,
“You have a real good day.”
With laughter all along the line,
I slowly drove away.

We travelled on along the road,
Dear Gracie she was still,
She didn’t say a single thing,
Until we topped the hill.

“Turn right,” she said, “ I twenty-five,”
“Stay in the far right lane,”
I followed her directions home,
Her guidance was quite plain.

If I had listened earlier,
Not given her a shrug,
Think of the fun I would have missed.
To give a cop a HUG!

This poem was written following an experience at a checkpoint in New Mexico when we were returning from my Granddaughter’s wedding. The test and hug were real. Gracie did forgive me and guided Sharon and me all the way back to our apartment in Arizona.

Don E. Cunningham, Author/Poet ©8/23/2008 930

A List of Don's Poems

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 18:42:00 +0000

I've written over the years. Click the link below to read the poems.
              A LIVING MIRACLE
             A Song of Thanksgiving (11/30/2008)
           Brave Dead (5/26/2008)

Bravely You Went Forth (5/17/2008)
Brother Guy 4/28/08
Christmas Pondering 12/29/07
Christmas Tidings, 2008 11/30/08
CLOUDS OF LIFE 9/16/09
Creations Concert (8/13/2009)
Divorce and God’s Grace 7/13/07
Divorce’s Depression & Forgiveness Delight 7/9/07 With Scripture 12/6/07
Enduring Love (2/22/08)
Feeling Healthy, Fever Free 1/29/08 & 6/29/08
Fountain Lady (6/4/09)
Gracie (8/23/08)
Half Marble 4/9/08
Hang His Suit Upon The Door (4/7/08)
Homeland Heroes 5/24/08
I Forgot 7/23/08
Majestic Cardinal 11/28/07
Married No More (Sharon) 12/6/07
Medicine Man Blues 6/29/08
My Old Dented Bucket 12/24/07
My Shroud 9/7/09
Omnipotent Ones 6/29/08
Our Dear Joyce (Eulogy) 3/14/07
Our Silver Bells Ring 7/2/07
Predators of the Poor 7/4/08
Requiem To Leaves 12/13/08
Separation and Divorce (6/18/07)

Sharing and Caring 6/27/07

Sharon on My Mind (6/12/05)
Sharon My Rose (6/19/07)
Slippers 9/30/07
So Let Me Love 5/22/07
Teabag of Life 6/5/08
The Little Sexton 6/12/08
The Musket Shot 6/28/08
The Wall Between 4/23/07
White Birch 11/25/08
Your Look Of Love 2/19/07 & 7/10/07

MAN PLANS AND GOD LAUGHS

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 22:21:00 +0000

The past few days I have been thinking about the old Yiddish saying, “Man Plans and God Laughs.”

I decided to explore this saying a little bit more and came across a message by Rabbi Steve Booth, B’nai Havurah, Denver, CO. He says the following: “Man Tracht un Got Lacht.... Man plans and God laughs. Essential Yiddish wisdom for life, for making plans, for organizational change, for these Yamim Noraim, these Days of Awe. We make plans.... stuff happens. Don’t forget that you are not in control, and that there is a One that is greater than the sum of all the parts. Invisible forces are at work.

He goes on to say, “Man tracht un Got lacht.... man plans and God laughs.... doesn’t just mean we’re not in control and God (who is) laughs, but rather, we plan, as we should, according to our values and goals,.... and God smiles, as we, in our wrestlings with the unexpected, achieve so much more....”

He gives a personal example by referring to another Rabbi and him going sailing. Both were experienced sailors. They were enjoying a peaceful sail on the lake when the wind became turbulent. They lowered one of the sails to adjust for the wind. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, the mast broke and with sails attached fell into the lake. Their plans for a leisurely sail turned into a struggle for life. While one tried to start the outboard motor the other began pulling in the mast and sails. Then the Rabbis saw that they were headed toward the rocks!

To slow the boat down, Rabbi Booth dropped the mast and sails back into the water. His friend steadily tugged on the cord in an effort to start the motor. It started and Rabbi Booth dragged the mast and sail back into the boat. Their skill as sailors resulted in their safe arrival back at the dock.

He applies this to our everyday lives. We may plan for a leisurely safe journey through life but “stuff happens.” Often, it can be quite unexpected.

Today, all around us, and with us, we face many challenges that could overwhelm us and dash us against the rocks of despair. Work becomes slack, money gets tight, what we thought were safe financial plans fall apart, spouses have extramarital affairs, couples get divorced, single parents struggle to raise their children. Life seems overwhelming. Major adjustments must be made. We thrash about trying to find a new direction for our lives.

God’s laughter stops, His smile is gone. He agonizes with us. Our Yiddish proverb changes from “Man plans and God laughs”, to “Man’s Plans fail and God weeps.” The scripture tells us very clearly that we should: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15 NKJV).

When we weep, God weeps with us. In John 11 Jesus is with His dear friends, Mary and Martha, who are crying near the graveside of their deceased brother. Even though Jesus knew that He would raise Lazarus from the dead, we read that, “Jesus wept.” (John 11:35 NKJV)

You may say, “Well that was then and Jesus was right there with them. He saw and experienced their grief.”

Granted, but His promise was: "If you love Me, keep My commandments. And I will pray the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may abide with you forever, even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him; but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you. I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.” (John 14:15-18 NKJV) Note that the KJV, ASV, and Living New Testament translate “Helper” as “Comforter.”

The Holy Helper or Comforter knows our every heartache and presents our needs to our Loving Lord in a language beyond our comprehension: ”Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. Now He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” (Romans8:26-28)

Then we have the great High Priest hearing our and our Holy Comforter’s prayers: “But He, because He continues forever, has an unchangeable priesthood. Therefore He is also able to save to the uttermost those who come to God through Him, since He ever lives to make intercession for them. For such a High Priest was fitting for us, who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and has become higher than the heavens; who does not need daily, as those high priests, to offer up sacrifices, first for His own sins and then for the people's, for this He did once for all when He offered up Himself. For the law appoints as high priests men who have weakness, but the word of the oath, which came after the law, appoints the Son who has been perfected forever.(Hebrews 7:24-28 NKJV)

No matter what happens to our plan, remember Our Lord has a plan for us and it is for our good. Even in divorce, single parenting, death of a loved one, loss of a home He weeps when we weep, laughs when we laugh and smiles as He watches us work out His plan for our lives according to the values He has placed in our hearts through the implantation of His Word.

HUGS, IN CHRIST’S AND MY LOVE,

Don E. Cunningham, Author Poet © 8-9-08 974

I FORGOT

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 20:17:00 +0000

It seems that no matter what our age in life may be we are inclined to say, “I Forgot.” We learn early in life to use those choice words to avoid admitting to not doing something we should have done or not being somewhere on time.

I found that during my journey through the valley of divorce I would frequently forget to do something I was supposed to do. I read some important memo and a few minutes later realized I had forgotten what it said. I scattered things around my desk and couldn't find documents I needed. I am thankful for a Secretary who was always able to find my misplaced papers. Occasionally I went into a room to get something and forget what I was looking for. Someone told me about an event or experience, but I did not recall the conversation.

I am certain many of you too have experienced that “blank” feeling. Perhaps you have walked around in a daze, wondering what to do next. As healing continues, we gradually begin to come out of the fog and our minds become clearer.

I joke about forgetting more than I ever knew. As an eighty year old I am finding I don’t remember some of the things I used to know. Fortunately, I can think clearly and enjoy writing humorously about such events in my life.

On Sunday afternoon I wrote the following poem. I believe some of you, regardless of age, will be able to identify with it.

I FORGOT

Sometimes I sit and think about,
The things that I forgot,
The many things I thought I learned,
But now I know them not.

I ponder where they might have gone,
But them I cannot find.
They are disbursed away somewhere,
In clutter of my mind.

The fact I think of what I learned,
Enshrouds me in distress.
For somewhere all the great ideas,
Are hidden in a mess.

The truth to me is very clear,
I know not what I learned,
If I perceived what I was taught,
For it I would not yearn.

Now could it be through all these years,
I lost more than I knew?
If that’s the case tell me dear friend,
Is it the same with you?

The problem that I ponder now,
Within my muddled thought.
How can I even think about,
That which to me is naught?

Don E. Cunningham, Author/Poet ©7/20/08

Ponder the past, live in the present, and move toward the future. Our Lord has blessings yet to give us.

HUGS, IN CHRIST'S AND MY LOVE,

Don E. Cunningham, Author/Poet ©7/22/2008

PREDATORS OF THE POOR

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 17:15:00 +0000

After posting my poem “The Omnipotent Ones,” I received a comment that “Rhyme demands too much tugging and pulling. It is then that free verse wins.” I appreciate her input.

While I enjoy writing poems that rhyme, I occasionally succumb to free verse. I decided to see how my poem would come out if I were to use free verse style.

When I shared it with my writers’ group they agreed that the free verse was stronger and suggested that it needed a new name. Here it is. I agree with my group that the free verse wins. I hope you will decide for yourself which form has more meaning to you.

I know those of you who are experiencing the trauma of divorce, especially when you lose most of what you own, and are faced with economic challenges will identify with portions of this poem.

PREDATORS OF THE POOR

They are the pompous pride filled ones perceiving themselves to be all knowing and all powerful. Unable to see their impotence before God they prance about in their tailored refinery.

Speaking in eloquent tomes before the masses, they present a charade of false accomplishments. Their actions belie their words. Conducting never ending investigations, purporting to seek the truth, they present endless reports, upon which they rarely act.

Concocting up committees, with their corporate cronies, they collude in the darkness of night to gain concurrence from their colleagues to pass corrupt codes.

Concealing their deeds from the sleeping populace under the cloak of darkness.

Their hands are ever ready to receive rich rewards from wealthy demagogues bent on the destruction of the working poor. Ever touting a “trickledown theory” of economy, while in reality they “siphon up” from the masses they purport to serve.

They steal from the coffers of the people to present their offerings to the greedy barons of finance. Rewarding them for their grievous crimes against their fellow man. Bailing them out with billions while neglecting the penniless poor and their plight.

Working class families, whose dream homes have fallen into the hands of merciless investors, now know them as harbingers of harm to the homeless.

Their actions defy our mighty Lord, whose heart is set toward the poor. Their greed is a stench to the nostrils of a Holy God. His arm is bared, his bow is bent.

Soon the souls of these robbers of the innocents, these predators of the poor, shall quake before the omnipotent Lord of righteousness. Their fate lies in the hands of an angry God!

This poem is a free verse representation of my earlier poem titled, “The Omnipotent Ones”. It is based on observations of recent events interpreted in the light of Psalm 73. To understand where the poet is coming from, it is suggested you review this Psalm before reading this poem.

Don E. Cunningham, Author/poet ©7/4/08 474

HEALTH ISSUES, HUMOR & POLITICAL SATIRE IN POETIC FORM

noreply@blogger.com (Don) — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 23:06:00 +0000

The first two poems in this trilogy of poetry present personal health problems and medications in a humorous light. I hope you will enjoy them. Possibly, even chuckle a little.

For several months I struggled with how to write a humorous poem about my myriad of health conditions. Every time I started to write it became dark and gloomy. One day, Bobbi, the receptionist in the IV unit at our local hospital phoned to confirm my appointment. She asked me if I was “feeling healthy, fever free.” The phrase immediately became the base for my poem. I published it on my former website on January 29, 2008.

I am including it on this posting as part of my two postings on health care issues.

FEELING HEALTHY – FEVER FREE?

(A poem inspired by Bobbi at IV Therapy, YRMC)

I’m feeling healthy, fever free,
Just as happy as I can be.
Although my heart is in a slump,
My new pacemaker makes it pump.

Cholesterol’s another thing,
My arteries it gives a zing.
Quadruple by-pass makes it right,
I live to see another night!

Blood pressure keeps rising higher,
They say it can make me expire.
My meds I take religiously,
But little effect do I see.

When asthma strikes it steals my breath,
Takes me down to the gates of death.
My Xolair shots they start to work,
Oxygen tank I now can shirk.

My diabetes jumps around,
An easy cure cannot be found.
I take my pills and insulin,
Walk the treadmill, cannot get thin.

Swollen legs cause me much pain,
Water retention makes weight gain.
The water pills don’t help me much,
Leg skin feels spongy to the touch.

Surgeries, I’ve had a lot,
Effected sitting on the pot.
Five nose operations went well,
Until I lost my sense of smell.

My cataracts just had to go,
I now can see the white lights glow.
Hearing has really gone to pot,
So hearing aids are what I got.

Knee joints creek - pain I can’t escape,
Doc decides to chisel and scrape.
Toenails grow but I don’t mind,
My doctor will just trim and grind.

Liver, bladder doing real good,
They’re functioning just as they should.
My kidneys are checked frequently,
Make sure they filter properly.

Arthritis strikes a nasty blow,
My joints are aching head to toe.
An old octogenarian,
Explains the shape my body’s in.

The body though it mortal be,
Will rise to immortality.
When body and soul reunite,
Then off to Jesus they’ll take flight.

My heavenly expectation,
Fills my heart with great elation.
There no more pain nor tears will be.
I’LL BE HEALTHY – FEVER FREE!

Don E. Cunningham, Author and Near Octogenarian© 1/2/2008 328

The second poem in this trilogy, came about after I presented, “Feeling Healthy – Fever Free” to our writers’ group. Elaine, our group leader told me I should write a companion for it about my medications. The resulting poem follows:

MEDICINE MAN BLUES

What can I say of medicine?
I have so much – where to begin?
Pills for this, capsules for that,
Pharmaceutical groups get fat!

Asthma attacks – Albuterol,
Is standing by to heed the call.
To keep breathing in clear fresh air,
Take Singulair and puff Advair.

The Xolair shots have stood the test,
My weary lungs they truly blest.
Oxygen flows into Bi-pap,
Helps me to take a restful nap.

Lunesta gives me blissful sleep,
Trazadone helps me peaceful keep.
To make aches and pains from me flee,
Roxicet – intermittently.

Before dentist starts teeth cleanin’
Protect heart with Clindamycin,
When doctor cuts around my eyes,
My Clindamycin still applies.

When my heart begins to sputter,
Lipitor clears up the clutter,
Norvasc keeps my heart safe secure.
While Diovan lowers pressure,

My Doxasozin Mesylate,
Alpha blocker tends the gate.
Opens blood vessels, glory be,
It even helps this old man pee!

Fluid causes ankles to swell,
Furosemide water expels.
Blood pressure needs to be controlled.
Tekturna does the job I’m told.

It hurts to walk, legs tend to cramp,
Plavix helps me walk treadmill ramp.
Diabetes? Lantus plays role,
Helps keep disease under control.

Prandin also has part to play,
Make sure, take six of them each day.
Folic acid, B12 and six,
Help my overall health to fix.

Allergies make me wheeze and sneeze,
Spray Nasonex - my symptoms ease.
Zyrtec taken regularly,
Tend to keep eyes and nose itch free.

If eyes still itch and start to tear,
Patanol will help them to clear.
And if coughing should me beset,
My Benzonatate I quickly get.

If skin itch should become extreme,
There is Fluocinonide cream.
But if it be a rectal itch,
To Proctozone rapidly switch.

Hiatal hernia take care.
My trusty Prevacid is there.
With all my meds it’s clear to see,
I the Medicine Man must be!

Don E. Cunningham, Author – Poet © 3-22-2008 324

The final poem in my trilogy is a satire on our political leaders. You will note it satirizes politicians in general and is non-partisan. One portion of it relates to the way in which they passed the Medicare Part D bill, which I personally feel benefits pharmaceutical and health insurance companies more than senior and disabled citizens. For more on this read my posting on “Health Care Issues”.

Many of my poems reflect scriptural insights.

THE OMNIPOTENT ONES

They think they are omnipotent,
Their impotence I see.
They strut about in tailored suits,
As proud as they can be.

They speak in tomes quite eloquent,
Actions their words belie.
They sit on power committees,
With cronies tell their lies.

They do their investigations,
Purporting to be true.
They come up with all their findings,
Then nothing do they do.

Concocting up outlandish laws.
Pass them in darkest night.

Wait until the populace sleeps,
Conceal from them their plight.

Accept money from the rich boys,
Do what they desire.
Take away from the working man,
They soon shall know hell fire!

Their acts defy our mighty Lord,
When poor men’s homes they take.
Their lives are centered in their greed,
Someday their souls shall quake.

Our righteous God looks down on us,
His mighty arm is bared,
Oh, you who rob the innocents,
Your souls shall not be spared.

Well, friends, that’s it on health care issues for now. I hope you will continue to visit my blog to enjoy a potpourri of my writings.

Hugs, In Christ’s and My Love,