Sonntag, 14. Juli 2019

Ingrids Auswahl - Ingrids Poetry (91)




                                                  Come


Come in to my parlour said the spider with a grin,

Well! the poor fly fell for it and she flew right in

Flew into that web of danger, could not get back out

Friends take care,

Don’t you be falling for the spiders clever calling.


Sunday morning
                                  
The clutter in the kitchen, tells of the day begun, she’s cooking oatmeal porridge
For daughter, dad and son, brewing herbal tea now, to make us warm inside.
She’s frying us some bacon, Oh, smell of sweet delight, allthou I’d love to stay
Right here in my warm bed, the smell of fresh fried bacon is going to my head.
If I don’t get up promptly, I know without a doubt, my brother dear will eat it
    And I’ll be missing out! So up I get and ready, as quickly as can be.
                   To get my share of bacon and cup of herbal tea.


  
The Lot

When life is in a tangle, the brain is in a knot.
The heart is in a jungle, the soul inside a pot.
And oft folks fail to comprehend
How they gained all they’ve got?
It’s pretty clear some folks came here
To order once, twice, sometimes tries
A helping with the lot.


Point of view
A fun Song for children

Hear the Kookaburra chuckle in the old gum tree;
Rain or shine he's always fine; He's happy as can be.
Could we be like him, could we but have his point of view,
We would flap our wings, bob up and down and chuckle too.
Chorus: :I La La La La - La La La La - la la la la  I:

See the parrots have a party in our apple tree;
Munching apples by the score for breakfast, lunch and tea.
Could we be like them, could we but have their point of view,
We would find that they don't mind if we were munching too.
Chorus.
Mother magpie sings so sweetly by the old tin shed,
It's a brand-new day, get up don't be a sleepy head.
Could we be like her, could we but have her point of view,
We would greet each brand-new day and sing a sweet song too.
Chorus.
Days are good or bad, are fun or sad, are gold or blue;
Life is life, it’s up and down, we hope and struggle through
Still the fact remains, in all we ever say or do,
In the end it all depends upon our point of view.
In the end it all depends upon our point- of -view.)
Chorus.



Montag, 8. Juli 2019

Samstag, 6. Juli 2019

Ingrids Auswahl - Ingrids Poetry (90)






Joy



True joy will only be found

Beyond the gates of death

Freedoms portals may be walked

Beyond our tears and stress

Enduring loss, grief and pain

Will some sweet day be joys refrain?

Mittwoch, 3. Juli 2019

Ingrids Auswahl - Ingrids Poetry (89)



The Door



So close to that mysterious door

Fear bids the soul to enter in.

Death is not foe, but friend!

Don’t linger take his hand.

For beyond that secret door

You will find that blissful shore.

Where all pains all sorrows flee.

Happy there your soul will be.

Go my friend, don’t look behind.

Glory land you there will find.

In your makers fond embrace,

Feel his love, behold his face.

There you will come to understand

Death is not foe

But loving friend.

The Stair

Oh dear, once again I stand,
Rail held tied in hand,
At the bottom of does dreaded stairs.
Wishing I was fit, young and fancy free
Like a little bird without a single care.
Wishing I could fly, or just go hop, hop,
Quickly from one stair unto another,
Now it’s plain to see for old folks like me
Climbing Stairs is really quiet a bother.
Now I would not mind, no! I would not care
Someone big and strong, hoist me up that stair.
Breezing out a sigh, think of years gone by,
When a favoured past time was to rock and roll.
When on mountain track weight down with a pack
All the rocks and boulders under firm control.
Oh! I had such fun when these knees were young,
Now the memories of the past just fill the soul.
But I must be fair, willingly declare
That it’s someone else’s turn to go and do
All the things of youth, whilst I face the truth
Standing at the bottom of does dreaded stairs.



Dienstag, 25. Juni 2019

Ingrids Auswahl - Ingrids Poetry (88)



Love is blind



I perceive it’s true indeed,

Little rhymes to wisdom lead

So here is one to understand,

One to share with you my friend.

When man’s stomachs cry out loud,

The head is wrapped into a shroud,

And when the head makes up its mind

The heart is left ten miles behind.

On top of that what do we find?

When men’s hearts rule,

The man turns blind.

Turn blind and jet more clearly see,

The way things really ought to be.

Turn blind to fear, to fault, to ill.

Turn blind to see more clearly still

To see the things but good and true,

Search for the very best in you.

To find all that is good and kind.

It’s good to know some men turn blind.

Let’s close the quest of where or when

Our God looks on the hearts of men