Madison

Maddison ….. Child of a valiant warrior.
Spiritual Connotation… Brave.
Scripture … Luke 18: 27 'The things that are impossible with men are possible with God'.

Thank Lord for the blessing of this day,
Today you brought little Maddison my way.
The sun when it shines, shines brighter,
And worries just a little lighter.

Because Maddison is part of my day.

I would live to see your first smile,
And dress in mummy's shoes, such style!
Your first day at school, with its fears,
Not to forget mummies tears.

Because Maddison is part of my day,

I will be there to wipe your tears away,
And cheer you in times of dismay.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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I Want To Be There

I want to be there
Maybe I will be there, and it's possible I won't.
But I so dearly want it to be,
When you climb upon your first chair.

I want to be there,
When off to school you first go.
But so dearly I want it to be,
When Mummy say, 'Now take care'.

I want to be there,
When you bring that first boy home to Dad.
I so dearly want it to be,
And you dance off into night air.

I want to be there,
When the spirit speaks to your heart.
When Jesus enters and comes into your life.
When the angels of heaven sing so fair.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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Lifes Picture

Life can be likened to the following picture I'll draw,
A lake has its water both dark and light.
Life can be deep, knee deep; it can be chaotic or mellow,
It can seem as though in pout, and spite.

Of life and death, new birth and rot,
Adding shades of victory and defeats plight.
There is the raucous sound of nature's families,
Nature's families of aquatic and fight.

When the season permits and weather is fine,
You must grasp upon the opportunity.
Glide gently among all of this with your beloved,
Float among this life with impunity.

Speak of its creator and the beauty you behold,
Not of the rot, or that that is at deaths door.
Look at the snow-white swan with babes at wing,
And the Lord's water lilies we need to adore.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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It's the doing that's hard.

It's not the knowing, it's the doing that's hard.
It's the first step, not the first yard.
It's having the strength to do the right thing.
That's what makes a man a pauper or king.

Whether you sit on a throne or easy chair,
How do you act on what you know is fair.
If you act on expedient or true,
This is the measure of you.

As water takes the easy course,
Where it meets less force.
Each of us are given a voice,
Each one is given a choice.

Standing may mean standing alone,
As an honest life we hone.
In no shadow will we stand,
Small will be the member of our band.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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The Old Bridge

An very old bridge stood dominate,
Over rushing river prominent.
No doubt by now had seen better days,
Many years covered in summers haze.

Timbers now creak with foot or hoof,
Although now few animals and little proof.
Small animals prints and perhaps a horse,
Herds would bring about deathly remorse.

But in its day it saw great commerce,
Moreover a horse drawn blackened hearse.
It saw sheep and dusty cattle herds,
It carried secretive meetings of lovebirds.

Lawbreakers and lawmakers also traversed,
Church goers, quilt sewers and drovers dusty thirst.
The old bridge remembers histories deeds,
Suicides, soldier's braded on handsome steeds.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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Evelyn

Meaning……..Hazelnut.
Orign………..English.
Heb rew ……Life
Form of….Aveline
Scripture…Proverbs 31-10.
Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.

Mum and I remember always our sweetheart,
We have a love for her that never departs.
Her name means in Hebrew life,
And that she is as mother and wife.

You entered our lives with a gentle light,
You have become a woman gentle and polite.
A nest you have created for those of yours,
You have nursed their illnesses and sores.

As a child you nursed your poor sick Dad.
With his pretend sickness, so bad.
You wrapped and bandaged where it hurt,

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poem by R.K. Hart
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Little Did We Understand

Little did we understand those things ahead, when my love and I first did meet.
Of snow white sand and foaming water lapping at our feet.
And sunny days searching for that treasured shell.
We roamed the beach, lovers, me and my best pal.

Little did we understand the burning sting of tears.
And the whimpering cry of the hurt we heard through the years.
The salty taste of tears as they dropped from eye to lip,
And the stain they leave as on to the cheek they slip.

We won't forget the sunsets deep orange and bright.
How they hung upon the horizon, and then dramatically fell from sight.
We would look into the starry host with love in our eye,
And watch the multitude as they danced in the sky.

Little did we understand the workings of a child,
Consequently mistake upon mistake we piled.
But it must be said we did some things right,
We have four wondrous babes of great delight.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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I Will Walk

I will walk across this wide brown country of mine,
Its treasures and blessing to find.
I will shake the hand of my neighbor dark and fair.
I'll give of my blood as courage bids me dare.

And carry his load with what strength is mine.
I'll fight for a 'fair go' as together we climb.
Down dusty track or up mountainous highway
Our labors this land promises to repay.

I will walk my countries sunlight beaches,
And discover its beautiful cities in far flung reaches.
Sydney with her harbor sparkling bright.
And grand lady Melbourne's Yarra lights by night.

Perth and Adelaide the jewels to the west.
Beautiful Hobart town welcomes any guest.
Brisbane the northern city of delight
Warms the traveler at her sight.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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Strengh in Sorrow [Mary]

Come look at me if you please, a woman honored by all.
To show great strength in sorrow was her call.
From a humble village she came, much bereft.
Nathanael said, "Can anything good come from Nazareth"?

Sacred record states, Mary of the tribe Judah, line of David, indeed proud history.
Her first child was the stable born Savior, of that there is no mystery.
The crown of faith was hers before the child.
This is a woman of joy, unselfish, Mary gentle and mild.

Manifold ugly sword piercing to be hers.
As her son willingly dealt with His life's burrs.
Greatest of these would be Golgotha's cross, and his tomb.
Could she have been spared the suffering of the son of her womb?

The last glimpse of Mary is a victorious one.
She is in the upper room where she sees her Son.
Here was the son she so much adored.
Jesus had conquered sin and would live evermore.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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Victory Is His

They took Him before Pilate and asked, 'How do you plead'?
We want to know before we beat you till you bleed.
He knew not how to begin,
For you see He had no sin.

They beat upon Him till His flesh gave way to bone,
And the sin of men was more likely shown.
The cat had ripped and torn away,
Faraway into the ugly day.

They ceased not until the cobbles were blood strewn,
And this beautiful son of man was an ugly ruin.
Soldiers cast a rugged cross upon his mauled being,
Across torn back and head where blood impeded seeing.

He stumbled but carried this cross to the place of the skull,
Through His palms and feet He was nailed with iron dull.
Shamed, He was speared and crowned with thorns.
Upon Him my sin and that of every man was born.

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poem by R.K. Hart
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