We are having a Talent and Testimony night at our church tonight. It is usually singing and testimonies. But our Worship Leader loves to put me in the most awkward of positions by having me read some poetry. It is well know that I can not sing. I like to say the only 2 places they allow me to sing is the Nursing Home where they can’t hear and the prison where they can’t leave. Aaron likes to introduce other talents beside singing so I will be the only person to read a poem. It is awkward but I will do it. As I looked over my writings to pick out the poems I found this poem that I wrote years ago. Its a bit of foolish verse but I like it and thought I would share it.

Practical Poetry

I sat down in my big chair
To read a little Billy Collins today
I did not get very far
Because of the voices of ghosts.

I could hear my fathers sigh,
As he mumbles under his breath,
“That will not get you far,
why waste the day.”

I could hear my mother scold
(She has never said anything under her breath.)
“Read something real
a practical book is what you need.”

As I shook those old voices from my head
Something moved in the corner.
I jerked my head,
Only to see a Roach.

I jumped from chair barefoot
(because shoes hurt my ankles)
and rushed to the scene.
I took a swing and missed.

Then he moved again.
I brought my copy of “Picnic Lighting”
Down fast and sharp
And smashed it on the floor

Parents are not always right,
Old voices are a joke
My practical poetry took me far
And the roach is dead on the floor.