Tuesday, November 18, 2008

The Poor Kid Down the Street




A little boy knocked on our door
With a hungry look on his face
Mother said if we served him
It would keep us in God's grace

For someday you may have to stand
Before God's great judgment seat
And what if you never lent a hand
To the poor kid down the street

We didn't have plenty back then
There was always enough to eat
Mother saved a can of soup
For the poor kid down the street

Someday you may have to stand..

The world's one big neighborhood
Full of nations — rich and poor
When it comes to the greater good
Which one has offered up more

For the nations will be assembled
Before God's great judgment seat
And the shepard will separate them
As he does the goats from the sheep

© 2005 Stefan des Lauriers

MOTHER'S PUZZLE BOX

I remember the knife sharpener's bell
And the ice cream truck with its chimes
And bugging my Mother too many times
For her hard won nickles and dimes
I'd be off to the Esso station
With a coin pressed in my hand
(And not share a single Smartie
Bought at the concession stand...)

I wouldn't trade all the gold
Hidden in the vaults of Fort Knox
For the poems and prayers
Kept in Mother's puzzle box

I recall her serving soup
To that little hungry boy
To this day a can of Campbell's soup
Is something I might enjoy
She taught us to eat the noodles
Without the messy slurping
(And I got kicked out of Sunday school
For incessant burping...)

I wouldn't trade all the gold
Hidden in the vaults of Fort Knox
For the poems and prayers
Kept in Mother's puzzle box

I remember November 11
As Mother mopped the floor
Pausing a moment's silence
For the lost souls of the war
She survived the London bombings
And became a war bride
(She crossed the pond with a little boy
And another one inside...)

I wouldn't trade all the gold
Hidden in the vaults of Fort Knox
For the poems and prayers
Kept in Mother's puzzle box

She knit outfits for the babies
Who are helpless when they cry
Cause it wasn't just their pain
It was in their not knowing why
She'd be working on a puzzle
And her eyes would dream away
(To her innocence lost in England
Or perhaps a brighter day...)

I wouldn't trade all the gold
Hidden in the vaults of Fort Knox
For the poems and prayers
Kept in Mother's puzzle box

It must have tried her patience
Having seven unruly kids
But she never raised her voice
At all the naughty things we did
I'd often fight my brother
And once dodged a flying rock
(Which broke the dome glass cover
Of Mother's favorite clock...)

I wouldn't trade all the gold
Hidden in the vaults of Fort Knox
For the poems and prayers
Kept in mother's puzzle box

I can't recall how many times
I stayed out half the night
Just before I let the screen door slam
She'd turn off her reading light
During high school's troubled times
I would go on lengthy walks
(And the first lousy poem I wrote
Ended up in Mother's puzzle box...)

I wouldn't trade all the gold
Hidden in the vaults of Fort Knox
For the poems and prayers
Kept in Mother's puzzle box


© 2012 Stefan des Lauriers

(April 4, 2012)

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