He wound through the vines and walked on the ground.

He swung from tree branches, but made not a sound.

 

‘Til he saw her one morning, eyeing the fruit,

And he found his slick voice, this ill-natured brute.

 

“Just taste it, my sweet one. What could it hurt?”

Then he smiled a sly smile, and walked off ‘cross the dirt.

 

He saw the two brothers, watched the strife as it grew,

Eyed the planter, the herder, ‘til he knew what to do.

 

“Just kill him,” he whispered, in Cain’s ear one day.

“You deserve better treatment.” Then he slithered away.

 

He made daily rounds, planting mischief and hate.

Wormed his way into hearts ‘til the world was a state!

 

What had started as beauty grew tainted with lust,

And the enemy smiled from his home in the dust.

 

He said to old Abram, “Try and be a bit clever.

Take Hagar, you moron. You can’t wait forever.”

 

Through Rebekah and Jacob, he hatched out a plan

To steal Esau’s birthright and bless the wrong man.

 

Poor Joseph got sold off to be a man’s slave.

Moses killed an Egyptian, hid his sin in a grave.

 

Satan moved through the ages, this worst kind of lout.

He needed no rest. Seems he never wore out.

 

He was there at Mount Sinai, where God gave the Law.

Whispered lies to the people, liked the gold calf he saw.

 

He meddled and hinted and urged folks to grumble.

He saw the bronze snake and watched Jericho crumble.

 

In Canaan he kept it up day after day.

Despite judges and prophets, he led folks astray.

 

Said to David, “Just take her, that beautiful thing.

Deny yourself nothing. After all, you’re the king.”

 

Through battles and rescues for years it went on.

The people kept listening ‘til sin was full-blown.

 

God looked down from heaven, saw the time was just right

To send his dear Son, born one Bethlehem night.

 

Was Satan then beaten? Did he give up his trying?

No! He stepped up his game, kept deceiving and lying.

 

“I’ll beat this man, Jesus,” he thought, in his pride.

“I’ve got friends in high places, lots of folks on my side.”

 

He weaseled and bargained and tempted each man.

And managed, at last, to accomplish his plan.

 

But Satan, you liar, you scourge of the land,

God always defeats you with His winning hand.

 

Jesus rose on that Sunday. He still lives today,

In the hearts of believers, who give Him full sway.

 

We know you were there. We know you are here.

But you’re destined for Hell. God’s Word makes that clear.

 

We’ll continue to fight ‘til our battle is done.

Then we’ll go home to glory and live with the Son.

 

You torment and tempt us, our lives you’ve encumbered.

But know this, you Evil One, your days are numbered.

 

 

 

I want Eden.

 

A place where no one ever gets sick,

Where fragrant flowers grow lush and thick,

Where birds soar freely, and mountains loom high,

Where only white clouds float in the sky.

 

A place where babies arrive without pain,

Where dew wets the ground, so there’s no need for rain,

Where bear cubs and kittens and baby lambs play,

Where a spouse fully trusts that the other won’t stray.

 

A place where no weeds grow up through the ground,

Where sadness and heartache and grief are not found,

Where words like goodbye never have to be heard,

Where hatred or injustice isn’t even a word.

 

A place where families live and love all day long,

Where sunrise and sunset are accompanied by song,

Where no one gets injured or lonely or lost,

Where good food and clean water come at no cost.

 

A place where sweet children can play without fear,

Where grownups and babies shed never a tear,

Where you share with me, and I share with you,

Where everything heard is one hundred percent true.

 

We had it but lost it, this Eden of ours.

Now everything rusts or grows old or sours,

And despite all our effort, we can’t get it back.

All this the result of Satan’s attack.

 

Eve and Adam succumbed to the tempter’s big lie,

And as a result, we all now must die.

But I can’t be too angry. I’m no better than they.

I bite at the bait Satan throws out today.

 

But God in His mercy will make all things new.

He has a new Eden for me and for you.

And we don’t have to fear. This one Satan can’t touch.

How blessed we all are that God loves us so much.

‘Twas weeks before Christmas, December one,

The holiday season has really begun.

I drink some caffeine and roll up my sleeves,

While thinking of presents, stockings, and trees.

 

I go buy some candles, red, green, and gold,

New napkins, a tablecloth, nice to behold.

Some tinsel, some garland, a grand treetop star,

A red nose and antlers to put on my car.

 

Some gift wrap and ribbon and Scotch tape galore,

Fake snow for the windows, a wreath for the door.

I make up a menu and order a ham.

I’ll bake it and glaze it with raspberry jam.

 

I go buy a tree and put on some lights

To glow through the window on cold winter nights.

I shop for the grandkids, a bike and a dolly,

And candy for stockings, some gumdrops, by golly!

 

I’ll cook each one’s favorites: fudge, cookies, and pies,

Make a gingerbread house to dazzle their eyes.

Some yams and hot yeast rolls to warm each one’s soul,

A salad and, of course, green bean casserole.

 

I’ll spruce up the guest room and tidy the house,

Dry clean my best pantsuit and iron my new blouse.

I’ll turn on some carols, spray a scent of sweet pine.

I’ve checked off each task now, right down the line.

 

I wait for the phone call to say when they’ll come.

With anticipation, I happily hum.

I hear my phone ringing, I grab it and shout,

“Merry Christmas to everyone, hope you’re en route!”

 

My granddaughter laughs and says, “You are so funny.

Didn’t we tell you we’re down where it’s sunny?

Enough of cold weather and snow and reindeer.

We’re having a Disney World Christmas this year!”

 

(This is an oldie posted again especially for my fellow writers. I feel your pain.)

WRITERS WRITE?

 Singers sing and teachers teach.

Fighters fight and preachers preach.

Tailors sew and smokers puff.

Catwalk models strut their stuff.

Writers think and rant and scribble,

Find their thoughts are merely drivel.

 

Cleaners clean and painters paint.

Gossips slur and smear and taint.

Bakers stir and spread and mix.

Gymnasts show off springs and kicks.

Writers stew and sweat and swear,

Chew their nails and pull their hair.

 

Sculptors sculpt and tenors sing.

Rappers dance and show off bling.

Builders measure, pound, and saw.

Dentists put shots in your jaw.

Writers ponder, walk the floor,

Scratch their heads until they’re sore.

 

Doctors doctor, drivers race.

Cosmeticians fix your face.

Lawyers argue, cowboys rope.

Moms and dads find ways to cope.

Writers grimace, growl, and drool,

Practice much self-ridicule.

 

Tourists visit, nurses tend.

Pavers pave and fixers mend.

Suitors woo and hackers hack.

Chiropractors fix your back.

Writers quarrel, fret, and stress,

Find their efforts are a mess.

 

Politicians plot and speak.

Plumbers come to stop your leak.

NASA workers study Mars.

Golfers concentrate on pars.

Writers whine and writhe and weep.

Stand on ledges, poised to leap.

 

When one struggles to compose

A story, poem, theme, or prose,

All ideas leave her head.

Her creativity is dead.

Though she tries with all her might,

She can’t think of a thing to write.

“Five senses,” God said, “these I will give,

To the humans who on my new earth come to live.

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

And good things to taste. That should be enough.”

 

He went about making things they could enjoy:

Snowflakes and music and rainbows and joy,

Berries and cinnamon, blazing white stars,

And bunnies and bird songs and fireflies for jars.

 

He gave them blue skies and valleys and hills

Summer for warmth and winter for chills,

A lover’s sweet kiss and a baby’s first breath,

Flowers and moonbeams . . .  and no hint of death.

 

Colors and fragrance and honey and wheat,

The smell of the sea and warm sand for their feet,

Silky new kittens, red roses, soft rain,

And friendship and dewdrops . . .  and no hint of pain.

 

Handholds and warm hugs and smiles for their faces,

And richness and newness and infinite spaces.

Today’s wondrous gifts would be here for tomorrow

From God’s gracious hand . .  . and no hint of sorrow.

 

They bathed in the sunshine and shared all they had.

They wanted for nothing. What was there to add?

They frolicked and wandered and listened and ate.

They drank in earth’s sweetness . . . and no hint of hate.

 

‘Til one day a thought came they knew not from where

Who bound us to this place? Who told us to share?

We want something different, we want to explore.

If we take charge maybe we’ll have something more.

 

They drew up some boundaries and set up some rules.

They guarded their foodstuffs and trinkets and tools.

They challenged and argued and gave evil looks,

Marked off plots of land and laid claim to the brooks.

 

They cursed at their children, cheated their neighbor,

But had less to enjoy despite all their labor.

They ravaged the landscape and killed their own kin.

They turned from the good and indulged in great sin.

 

With no use for God now they went their own way,

Pursued sordid pleasures by night and by day.

They trusted nobody and cared for no one.

They endorsed every evil thing under the sun.

 

Death now touched each one of them. All endured pain.

Sadness and sorrow poured down like the rain.

Their hatred was thick and their families were wrecked

The goodness that once was there none could detect.

 

‘Til one day a thought came, they knew not from where,

Is life meant to be this way, hard and unfair?

Who caused this? Who cursed us? Who brought us such pain?

There must be a better way. This is insane!

 

They lobbied their leaders. They looked to their heroes,

They questioned their gurus who offered but zeroes.

They Googled and pondered and searched everywhere

For answers to fix it all, end the despair.

 

And God, as He always does, opened his arms,

And offered His answer, a rescue from harms.

But each one rejected him, each of them said,

“We don’t believe you. We think you are dead.

 

We don’t really need you. We’ll fix this, and plus,

All answers are stored somewhere deep inside us.

We’re smart and we’re focused, our theories are prime.

We’ve got this. We’ll handle this. Give us some time.”

 

God said, “I warn you, my patience wears thin.

You’ll never fix this, can’t even begin.

One day you will know as you drop to your knee

The answers you’re looking for all rest in me.”

 

Pumpkins and scarecrows

Corn stalks and hay

Leaves on the ground

‘Til winds sweep them away.

 

 

Cider and sunflowers

Jackets with hoods

Campfires and asters

Colorful woods.

 

 

Crispy cool mornings

Frost on the ground

Playgrounds abandoned

Squirrels abound.

 

 

Migrating birds and

Football to play

Your breath in the air

A harvest array.

 

 

Pools are all covered

Grills put away

The air is now filled with

A wood smoke bouquet.

 

 

Reruns on TV

Quilts on our beds

Knee socks and mittens

Scarves around heads.

 

 

Apples, persimmons

Thanksgiving buffet

Sunset comes sooner

To shorten the day.

 

 

Late fall brings frostbite

Hayrides and s’mores

Get out the board games

We’re staying indoors.

 

 

Winter looms large now

With cold winds and snow

So savor fall’s pleasures

Before they all go.