Category Archives: Poetry

Walking Rifleman

When a man takes his rifle awalkin’
It adds not a bit to his load.
It makes him in fact somewhat lighter,
For he walks as a free man, unbowed.

When a man takes his rifle awalkin’
He’s master of all he can see.
A good man won’t abuse the position,
Still–a master’s a fine thing to be.

When a man takes his rifle awalkin’
He’ll keep his eye sharp, his wits keen,
For that’s not just a tart he’s escortin’
No, that lady beside him’s a queen.

When a man takes his rifle awalkin’
Its condition doesn’t matter to me.
He can load it however he chooses,
So long as he lives by Rule Three.

When a man takes his rifle awalkin’
And he needs a second shot quick,
He’ll be glad of the time spent on homework,
When he mastered reflexive bolt-flick.

When a man takes his rifle awalkin’
And he’s hunting, to feed him and his,
Well, he’s living the way God intended,
And that’s just the way that it is.

When a man takes his rifle awalkin’
As some say he should not be allowed,
Well, they’d better be saying it softly,
For a man with a rifle is proud.

So if you take your rifle awalkin’
Realize what you’re saying, my friend.
You’re saying that you are a free man,
And woe be to him who butts in.

So let’s take our rifles awalkin’
With pride–defiance if need.
If we don’t want to be the last riflemen,
Then we’ve got to re-sow freedom’s seed.

Yes! Let’s take our rifles awalkin’
And we’ll walk in the light, so they’ll see.
And if they come to tell us we cannot,
Then we’ll water the liberty tree

Joe Sledge
Grand Junction, Colorado

If I Knew

If I knew it would be the last time
That I’d see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.

If I knew it would be the last time
that I see you walk out! the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.

If I knew it would be the last time
I’d hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word,
so I could play them back day after day.

If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute
to stop and say “I love you,”
instead of assuming you would KNOW I do.

If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
Well I’m sure you’ll have so many more,
so I can let just this one slip away.

For surely there’s always tomorrow
to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance
to make everything just right.

There will always be another day
to say “I love you,”
And certainly there’s another chance
to say our “Anything I can do?”

But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all I get,
I’d like to say how much I love you
and I hope we never forget.

Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,
young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance
you get to hold your loved one tight.

So if you’re waiting for tomorrow,
why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes,
you’ll surely regret the day,

That you didn’t take that extra time
for a smile, a hug, or a kiss
and you were too busy to grant someone,
what turned out to be their one last wish.

So hold your loved ones close today,
and whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them
and that you’ll always hold them dear

Take time to say “I’m sorry,”
“Please forgive me,” “Thank you,” or “It’s okay.”
And if tomorrow never comes,
you’ll have no regrets about today.

Most places I’ve seen on the ‘net claim that this poem is “Author Unknown” or “Anonymous”I found one page where it is credited to “Jaque”

God, Give Us Men

“God give us men…ribbed with the steel of Your Holy Spirit…men who will not flinch when the battle’s fiercest…men who won’t acquiesce, or compromise, or fade when the enemy rages.

“God give us men who can’t be bought, bartered, or badgered by the enemy, men who will pay the price, make the sacrifice, stand the ground, and hold the torch high.

“God give us men obsessed with the principles true to your word, men stripped of self-seeking and a yen for security…men who will pay any price for freedom and go any lengths for truth.

“God give us men delivered from mediocrity, men with vision high, pride low, faith wide, love deep, and patience long…men who will dare to march to the drumbeat of a distant drummer, men who will not surrender principles of truth in order to accommodate their peers.

“God give us men more interested in scars than medals, more committed to conviction than convenience, men who will give their life for the eternal, instead of indulging their lives for a moment in time. Give us men who are fearless in the face of danger, calm in the midst of pressure, bold in the midst of opposition.

“God give us men who will pray earnestly, work long, preach clearly, and wait patiently. Give us men whose walk is by faith, behavior is by principle, whose dreams are in heaven, and whose book is the bible.

“God give us men who are equal to the task. Those are the men the church and the world needs today.

We have not been able to track down the author for this excellent piece. If you know who wrote it, please drop us a note.

The Lake

Whose Lake it is I do not know,
I only know that’s where I go
When seeking a refuge from worry and doubt,
And sick of confinement, within and without
It’s waters are purest, it’s color and bluest,
It’s simple beauty I can attest.
It’s a symbol of peace and serenity,
of contentment, love and blessed obscurity.
Surely, in His infinite love and pity
The Magnificent God Almighty
Placed on the earth such gems of beauty to be
used when needed, by men like me.

The Breath Of God

I wrote this and I will share it with you: you may send it where ever you will.

In a mist on hills and valleys below,
the breath of God creates the Snow.
In colour-flow, its not the same,
as a picture, painted, laid in a frame.

Boughs heavy laden, yet they have not broke,
as Sunshine has risen to take up the yoke.
Before the Snow melts, the die has been cast,
shadows will fade, and in part, they have past.

A season of spring, pure waters delight,
thawing, a river that ripples with might.
Freely it flows and to all who partake,
drink to its depths, refreshed, then awake.

For this is the morrow that bids us be well,
to live in a place and never to dwell.
A mist on a hill and lo,
the breath of God creates the Snow.

This Little Light

As stars to an approaching dawn,
Like candles burned too long,
Every light fades out with time
And so ends life’s sad song.

It may be just a flicker
Or what seems eternal flame.
Each life serves, to light the gloom
Though all end, just the same.

Burn a candle out and see –
Just how much did it light?
With just that little flicker,
Could you find your way at night?

With just the glow of tiny stars
Sailors navigate the seas,
And though they burn out with the dawn,
Ships sail on with the breeze.

What are you doing with your light
Who navigates off you?
If they set sail with just your glow
Would their course end up true?

Check your course, and then your lantern
Be a light to guide the way
Never have it said about you
That you led some soul astray.

Know your light won’t last forever,
What you do counts when you’re gone
Take a real good look around you
What your light is shining on.

Live your days, but keep it with you,
Someone follows where you lead.
That in mind, walk in a manner.
Others have the light they need.

All This

The dust kicks up ever so slightly as the first drop impacts.
The dryness of the earth greedily sucks up the moisture.
Taunts cascade from a frenzied mob-
Loved ones cry uncontrollably.
Another drop – same as the first-
Swallowed by a desperate land.
Sobs turn to wailing.
More steady, more quickly the drops.
An anguished Father turns away.
Quenched thirst, a puddle forms-
The edge pulled by years of drought.
Driving deep, a fountain opens with the thrust of steel.
No longer drops-
A steady, small flow.
Clouds form, lightning – Almighty displeasure, Divine pain.
Off the hill a small stream makes its way-
Renewing, overcoming the desert.
Extinguished heart – a King reigns.
A river now – enough for all.
In death they see – in life they questioned.
Time has changed the hill since then – the crowd is silent
The river stays in channel.
I’m at that river now, centuries later-
Looking in, the reflection is clear,
Not the one my mirror gives to me each day.
Exposing the soul, nothing is hid.
The choice is now mine,
Acknowledge exposure, or hide with the crowd.
Up on the hill, I see how it must have been-
I see the pain, the anguish – the awful burden of death.
Closer I walk – his eyes turn to me,
“For you,” He says – “All this.”
Weeping now, no longer does the thought of hiding nag me.
Into the river, my hidden fears washed out.
Peace, words can’t describe.
It’s your choice now-
The river hasn’t moved,,
From the hill it flows- down through time,
Through impossible barriers,
Through the hearts of men and women,
Not just for me, but also you – “All this.”