From an American poet: Oh, Cheryl Sing

 

by Cantinker Moss

 

This poem was probably started more than thirty years ago, either just before or after I married my wife, Cheryl.  No matter how hard I tried, I never could get something of a finished product.

But after thirty-five years, I began to learn an array of things about my wife:  things she didn’t have to tell me…things I just saw.  And with this discovery, I came to learn some things about myself:  and many of them weren’t pretty.  I’m not so sure she wasn’t going through this herself, even though she never ever seemed the type to be guilty of much.  But she assured me that she was not perfect, and that she was also a piece in the Master’s grand puzzle.

So after many years we both came a little closer to understanding who each of us was;  so much that we found it would be very difficult to live without each other…whether we wanted guidance, consolation, or physical intimacy.  Even two tired shoulders to cry on.  Little did we know that a commitment that we made to each other in 1982, with some work from each of us, would yield something akin to a harvest.

Enough introduction.  Here is the poem and I am going to let it speak for itself.

 

You are my guardian angel,

My dear, forever friend,

A mother of our two sons,

A lioness for them.

But you have always been there,

Through storm, and less, and doubt,

Yet this is what my heart will say

When hope, we seem without.

 

Chorus:

Oh Cheryl sing!  Oh Cheryl sing!

I want to hear you sing!

Oh Cheryl sing!  Oh Cheryl sing!

I want to hear you sing! 

 

I saw you in the park one day,

Your voice rang out so true,

With an instrument of twelve strings,

Telling the story that you knew.

About the One, your truest friend,

And what He did for you.

The smallest voice seemed to make me

Want to be your friend and His friend too.

 

Chorus:

 

Oh barefoot girl on a riverbank,

With your father’s fishing pole,

Missouri sand pines and Kentucky bluegrass,

Feed heaven’ward praise aglow,

But I will never forget your deep, dark eyes,

And the smile that rings with life,

A long-haired angel in purest hues,

For eternity all, you are my wife.

 

Thank you.

 

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From an American poet: Cat

 

by Cantinker Moss

 

Inspired by Robert Burns: To a Mouse and To a Louse

 

 

Oh little cat

Sitting on my lady’s hat

Can you see well

From where you’re at?

Oh little cat

Itty bitty ditty thing

So witty of a thing

A mime performing.

Oh little cat

These things, which you can see

May not particularly please

You—but if you speak?

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