Good Friends - kweaver 06

This poem is written for my dear friends whether near or far

Good friends are the ones you can count on
Good friends are the ones who care
Good friends are the ones who will laugh with you
With whom the tender moments you share

Good friends don’t care what you look like
They just want to be close by
Good friends are the ones you can lean on
They hold you if you need to cry

You don’t need clever conversation
Sometimes you don’t need to talk at all
Good friends celebrate and cheer for you
And help you up if ever you fall

Good friends you just can’t live with out them
And no matter how far you may part
Good friends are the ones you can call upon
They don’t stray very far from your heart

It doesn’t have to be everyday contact
Even if time slips on past
Yet with good friends you just pick up again
Where ever you left off last

I may not have spoken to you sooner
But I can honestly say
There isn’t a day that passes
When I don’t think of you in some small way

Good friends, I know we are
Good friends, we’ll forever be
Good friends don’t come by often
Thank you for blessing me.

A poem from Christmas 2005 - On that Night- kweaver

On that night a star did shine
To announce to earth the event Devine

The baby laid in a manager lo
Was sent because He loved us so
The angels sang with all their might
To welcome Him that Holy night

Born a birth humble and plain
He came in flesh to forgive our shame
No store bought gift could replace
The very moment of our Lord’s grace
Only the animals there did see
The One who was born to die for me


Kw 05

Christmas Eve Reflections - kweaver

As I sit by the fire at Christmas and reflect
Santa is my focus yet there’s someone I neglect
He was born long ago in a run down shack
He died, He rose and one day, He’ll be coming back

Yet my focus shifts quickly to the jolly old bloke
Who comes down the chimney in his white and red cloak
The one who is silent also wears white and red
But it’s because His robe is stained by the blood that He shed

Santa welcomes children each to sit upon his lap
They put in their requests as the camera’s lens snap
He checks each name twice to make sure they deserve
The present or the item they put on reserve

The quiet sideliner also welcomes every child
With open arms of gentleness and patience so mild
He knows each one’s name, every hair on their head
No checking is required He gives unconditionally instead

Santa pops up and down the chimney with a touch to his nose
Hauling around his magic sack of toys wherever he goes
He travels through the night faster than light
With his eight tiny reindeer leading him in flight

The humble Son of God does not have a magic wagon
Or an entourage of reindeer or a sack that He is dragging
He stays right beside me and never goes away
His gifts are eternal and available each day

At Christmas time it’s fun to play the Santa game
But it’s really about Him and how in flesh He came
To deliver me from my sins and wash them all away
That tiny little baby who in a manger lay

I sit here by the fire and feel the warm flame on my face
I remember Him more clearly and His abundant grace
I remember His gentle manner and the way He calls my name
I remember the Holy night when my saviour Jesus came.

Silence - kweaver Oct 06

My mouth is opening yet words do not exit
My heart is beating yet love does not exist
I hear myself talk yet You do not hear me
My actions speak louder than my voice
When I turn my head You do not even know
that my mouth is moving
When I cast my eyes downward
pretending that I do not see You
You notice and a tear rolls down Your face
Emptiness fills both our hearts for a love not shared
A precious moment in time when my voice is silenced
A choice I make that takes me one step further from You.

Deep calls to deep - kweaver

The river rushes over the pebbles in the shallow brook
A soft white foam lingers in the peaceful gentle flow
It's path drawn out by the maker's pen
It drifts onward, being called to it's destiny

The stream waits impatiently for it's rendezvous
And as the two bodies mesh the bubbling brook embraces it's mate
The crystal clear water gets deeper and moves briskly
Deep calls to deep

The quick flowing water rushes forward
Not knowing why or where it is headed it just continues on
The river surges and moans with excitement as it accelerates
Celebrating it's journey until the river bed drops
Deep calls to deep

The water cascades over the edge
Creating a mist as it bounces off the sharp rocks that line the river wall
The force of the landing creates a spray
Moistening the grassy edge of the water's pathway
Deep calls to deep

The river's mouth opens as it kisses the salty sea
Rushing waves capture the ecstasy of the union
The river rolls, entangling itself with the sea
There is no beginning, there is no end
Deep calls to deep

Meeting it's destiny, it has enjoyed the peace
Endured the pace, experienced the pleasure and weathered the pain
Not knowing the direction but always trusting
Propelled by the maker's majestic authority
Deep calls to deep

Northern Lights - kw

Aurora Borealis dancing, oh so high
Purple hues majestic, Magic in the sky
The artic wind blows gently ore the tundra street
A spectacular most lovely, a delightful northern treat
Glistening reflections on the crisp white snow
A windowpane of stain glass, illuminated by moon glow
If you look more closely, you might dimly see
A doorway unto Heaven amongst the jubilee

West Winds Blow - kweaver 06

The golden prairie wheat stands tall in the field
Creating a patchwork quilt that lay over the vast prairie
Endless labour to maintain a hearty crop is carried out
Yea though the west winds blow and tousle the harvest
Still the relentless protection continues
There is only so much that can be done to safeguard the bounty
The wind can be a partner spreading seed that multiplies the yield
Or an enemy pushing the stalks down and damaging their stem
Yet there is no way to halt the west winds that blow
The strong stalk will endure while the weak is abolished.

The west wind strums the tender strings of the field
Playing the instrument in a carefully orchestrated symphony
The seeds are planted, nutrients are provided and the wind blows
The music is written. What harvest will this bring?
It is but a mystery until the return is counted
Only the conductor knows what profits will be reaped.


So rest in the wind for it is part of the symphony of life
If you listen closely you will hear the sweet music
Played out as planned long ago
The composition of the west winds that blow.