A Handicapped Friend

by my grandpa James D. 

 

A handicap, is a friend who shares

Whatever comes our way

Who helps by thoughtful words and deeds

To brighten up our day

Who knows the heartaches

That lie heavy on the mind

And tries to ease the hurt of each

By being extra kind

A handicap helps to bring the sun

And take away the rain

And cheerfully convinces us

Our dreams are not in vain.

 

My Wife

By my grandpa James D.

 

Some people store up treasures of gold

But none can compare with the one that I hold

Like a beauteous gem – polished and shined

This treasure I have is one of a kind.

 

‘Tis my wife Lil you see,

Who puts up with me and takes care of my needs

No gem can compare with my wife, she’s of the highest degree

Cooking, sewing, mending and looking to my many needs.

 

So you can have your treasures of gold

I’ll be content with the patient and loving care

From this gem of a wife, who never grumbles or scolds

So God Bless her each day, as each day we share.

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To My Good Friend, Dave

by my grandpa James D.

 

My destiny it is tonight

To sit with pensive brow

Beside my study fire

This verse I’m penning now

For each was preordained by fate

Since human life began

So are the little and the great

Linked in the life of man.

 

Each day I live to thank the Lord

I do the things I love

And in it find a rich reward

All price and praise above

For few may do the work they love

The fond unique employed

That fits them as a hand, a glove

And really gives them joy.

 

I’m just a mediocre man

Of no high-brow pretence

A comfortable life I plan

I do the things most people do

I echo what they do

And through the morning paper view

The problems of the day

I’m part of people I have known

And they are part of me

The seeds of thought that I have sown

In others minds I see

There’s some of me in all of them

And in all, there’s something of He.

 

Ramblings, By “Uncle Jim”

 

A Strange New Language

by my grandpa James D.

 

I stood in amazement for what did I hear

But a strange new language that was strange to my ear

It was all full of numbers and queer sounding names

A thing called C-B’r was the name of the game.

One said that the modulation was good

But it sounded like Greek from where I stood

The other one stated that the skip had died down

Could it mean that they had put a poor man in the ground?

Now he had a good carrier, was it a pigeon or car?

The breakers said they were coming in fine

Perhaps they were swimming at some other time

My head went in circles and I couldn’t quite tell

The difference between a QSL or an XYL

If only they’d show me their Spitfire set

I might understand this new language yet

But all I could do was stand back and say

Oh, Mr. C-B’r PLEASE SHOW ME THE WAY.

 

My Two Way Radio

by my grandpa James D. 

 

How nice to have a radio, on a cold and blustery night

The magic of it’s static fills my heart with sweet delight

For While T.V. is O.K. and playing cards is fine

I’d sooner spend an evening on this old two way of mine.

 

I think of nights so long ago when I’d stay up real late

I didn’t have a radio so I heard no one go ten-eight

But things are very different now I really have a ball

Listening to my two way and waiting for a wall.

 

I know exactly who is home and who is out and why

The kind of rig he’s using and the kind he wouldn’t buy

I know when he is mobile, be it Jim, or Jack, or Joe

I’m up on all the going on, with my two way radio.

 

I know when there is trouble and I know when there is none

I wouldn’t part with this radio and miss out on all the fun.

So, when this world I leave behind and I am gone to heaven

Please bury me with my old two way, so to my friends, I can say

TEN SEVEN.

 

Is God Dead?

by my grandpa James D.

 

God is dead, some have said, this is their surmise

But when I hear this senseless jeer, I wonder if they have eyes

Have they not seen on a night serene the stars go by

And seen them shine as they keep time in their path across the sky

Do they think He could die?

And can you still say, this mere clay, could by any means outlast He?

Oh no, my friend, it would be the end

For us who are but mortals

If He causes everything to be, to end

And then passes through deaths portals.

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3 thoughts on “My Grandpa’s Poetry

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