Page 1

Visiting God’s Abode
by Harry Slocum Tordoff

Into a Sunlit Ravine – we rode
With Beauty on every side;
That place was truly God’s abode
And HE must have planned our ride,
For grandeur such as this – is rare
And no matter where we go,
We’ll never find an equal there
To that coloramic show.

Our horses too, fell under the spell
That we two seemed to share;
That day will we remember, well,
For we met our God – right there.
Not as a physical being,
But, rather as Beauty of Scene,
For the sight that we were seeing
Was surely – Heaven’s Dream.

The blending of color that met our eyes
As we stopped in wonder and awe,
Made it awfully hard to realize
The fullness of what we saw.
The colors in the flowers there
Seemed of Angelic hue,
The pinks – the reds – and the yellows, rare
And OH! What a Heavenly blue.

The colors just seemed to melt away
Into Pastel shades – and then,
A myriad of color – in wild array
Would burst forth – once again.
That place surely bore God’s brand;
‘Twas made to be His own,
For of all the Beauty in this great land
That spot stood out – alone

And to make this glorious scene complete
Our Saviour had laid the rug,
So soft and green – with warmth replete
And tucked the roots in snug.
It seemed – throughout that whole ravine
That a peace and a quietude reigned.
Everything there – was so serene,
With nothing outlandish or feigned.

Page 2

Silent Forest
by Ralph A. Fisher, Sr.

The dawn is dry, there is no sparkling dew,
There is no breeze, the forest is deadly still.
The trail beneath the fern misses the Shrew;
There is no coyote cry from over the hill.
The Abert squirrel has had her fill, and
Into the silent tree-top nest withdrew;
And with her tiny eyes watched the spiders kill.
As the early morning sun rays through pine and oak
Embraced the web as the drama grew.
For as the Tiger spider feasted on the Mourning Cloak,
The shrew, the coyote, sure and the Abert knew
That the spider spun her silken web
To catch the butterfly, as well as the morning dew.

by Lee Allen Wheeler

With skin like an octopus caught in the sun
Sally is ugly as sin over-done.
Though her manners are coarse and her face like a horse
She’s just been awarded her 19th divorce.

God in Sod
by Max S. Barker

Muscled worm
In Sod
Soft-bodied, strong
Expanding, long
I find you in
A clod.

Juicy worm
In air
Contracting, thick
Extending, quick
I wonder why
You’re there.

Muscled worm
A wad
Extracting, paste
Ejecting, waste
In you I can
Find God.

Page 3

by Marie Fischer

How grand ‘twould be to go for a stroll
Down a street or road or lane,
To a park or to a shoal,
Reliving our childhood again.

But those things we can do no more
For fear of dangers to our life.
We can’t feel secure as we did before
Violence and crime were so rife.

In the not too far away,
If God’s love we don’t spurn
He may permit, do we but pray,
That such security will return.

Whatever the Topic Be
by Harry Slocum Tordoff

Some poets write of Springtime
When love comes to the fore;
Hearts are placed upon the line
To perpetuate Cupid’s lore.

Others write of Summertime,
With all its Beauty – rare;
Roses and the Columbine
Are on Summer’s ‘Bill o’ Fare.’

Fall brings out the urge to write
To those who love the change;
They tell of all the gorgeous sights
Of Forest – Hill – and Range.

And of course, the drifting snow
Of Winter’s broad expanse,
Makes a poet’s face aglow
And the typewriter – really dance.

But – some write – for the joy of writing,
Whatever the Topic be;
That writing bug keeps biting
And he’s really bitten me.

A Wonderful World
by Harry Slocum Tordoff

It’s a wonderful world we live in,
Though a lot of us like to find fault;
We are never content – unless we win –
And – the virtues of sin – we exalt.

Earthly pleasures – our foremost thought
Worldly goods – the things we crave;
Human praise, for successes – sought,
With nary a thought – for beyond the grave.

Yes – it’s a wonderful world we live in,
A Gift – for our lifetime, here;
But, we must be content with “What Has Been”
And accept the Future – minus Qualm or Fear.

Page 4

Short Circuit 2
Harry S. and Etna L. Tordoff
Cranston, Rhode Island, U.S.A. 02920, For U.A.P.

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