Category: poetry

A TRUTH IN THE MIDST OF TRANSIENCE (poem)

Neal Pollard

Waters vast and oceans deep create a marvel and wonder
By its volume and power but also the creatures that you’ll find thereunder.
The stars and planets, galaxies, the universe, the vastness of outer space
The finest particles and smallest molecules, the most infinitesimal place.
The power of the greatest man who rules upon the land
The lowliest person who grovels around unseen and far from grand.
The outward beauty and loveliness of the Lord’s most fair person
The inward workings and intricate details of us all makes this so very certain.
To look upon the mountains high, whether green or rocky or tall
To investigate the tiniest plant and the creatures so delicate and small
Look afar or microscopically, dig and search, uncover
Test it, taste it, see it, smell it, here’s what you’ll discover
Locked within our DNA or viewed from light years away
You see the same truth, over and over, a fact that’s here to stay.
We are the evidence of a Being whose power and knowledge are unending
Who makes what is made extraordinary, through His infinite nature expending
But making what’s made and doing what’s done, His resources are not depleted
Because He is God, He’s never without. He never needs completed.
He’s worthy and mighty, He’s wonderful and true, the God we worship and serve
He’s faithful and ingenious, active and gracious, from perfection He cannot swerve
As you walk through the day and make observations, what you see or happens to you.
Whatever may change, crumble, fall, or fade away, God will still be faithful and true.

                             Endothelial cells viewed under a microscope

Who Can Find An Excellent Wife?

Neal Pollard

An excellent wife, who can find?
Her worth is far above gems.
Rack your brain and search your mind,
To find a brightness that time never dims.

Her husband implicitly trusts in her,
For this he will lack no gain,
She is trustworthy and spiritually sure
For as long as her days remain.

She’s shrewd and savvy, industrious
And constantly on the go,
To the poor and needy she’s generous
Through her deeds others her husband they know

Though out and about, her household she serves
How well she looks to its operation
Her children and husband give the praise she deserves
They claim her with pride and elation

Mere physical charm and beauty do not measure
The excellence of wife or of mother
But her fear of the Lord makes her a true treasure
And crowns her with charm like none other.

Remember I Am Dust (Poem)

Neal Pollard

I read the words of David today
They were so full of hope and trust
They spoke of God’s merciful way
That He is mindful we’re but dust.

He knows that transgressions we commit
That His forgiveness is a must
His lovingkindness He gives those who try to quit
Because He knows that we are dust.

Like David, I’m glad God has not dealt
Just with justice toward my anger, sin, and lust
As exalted His nature, so His tender heart will melt
Because He’s mindful we are but dust.

Like a father pities his erring child,
He reacts with compassion, not disgust,
When we fear Him, we learn He’s tender and mild.
He is mindful that we are but dust.

So as I embark on this unique day,
I know God is holy, perfect, and just,
But He balances this with a most merciful way
As He dwells on the fact that we’re but dust.

How should I treat you, my fellow pilgrim
Who’s also driven by imperfection’s fierce gust?
May I see you as I’m seen by Him,
And remember that you are but dust.

Extend you grace and excuse your stumbles,
Be willing to forgive, forget, adjust,
Because David’s inspired truth forever humbles,
He is mindful that we are but dust!

WHAT ABOUT ME? (POEM)

Neal Pollard

My sister is taking a meal to the sick
My brother has gone a wayward one to see
They both were busy, no “convenient” time to pick
But what about me?

They invite their neighbors to come to church
Have over people with frequency and glee
For good deeds they seem to constantly search
But what about me?

He’s a leader of others, she’s winsome and sweet,
He’s teaching the class, she’s full of hospitality,
They’re meeting the visitors, their lunch they will treat,
But what about me?

My life’s not more complicated, my resources so few,
That some little something I just cannot do
God wants me to warm so much more than my pew,
Others are active, and I can be too.

I don’t have to do some dramatic, huge act,
But with little needs every life’s brimming and packed,
If I could be impressed with just one simple fact,
I can supply something where once it had lacked.

I’ll look at life differently today, as I can,
Will spring to my feet after bowing my knee,
When asked, “Who’ll help this child or woman or man?”
I’ll say, “What about me?”

workshop-in-the-word-2007-281.jpg

GOOD NEWS FOR YOUR BLUES (poem)

Neal Pollard

If your life is feeling fallow, your ambition sadly shallow,
Turn your eyes upon another, help a sister or a brother,
To their feet.
It doesn’t need to be dramatic, full of noise and other static,
Just a word or even smile, can lift their day a little while,
And make it sweet.
When your gaze is outward trained, that’s when blessings’ surely gained,
Your cup is fuller when you share, take the time to prove you care,
You will receive.
God has made life just that way, you gain so much when you give away,
Your treasure, toil, and precious time, service makes life so sublime,
This you’ll believe.
Before you know it you’ll have found, your trouble has turned all around,
Joy will be where there was hurt, fulfillment will spring, love will spurt,
From your glad heart.
Start today and try this out, learn what contentment’s all about,
Find someone to serve and serve them, life will be less drab and dim,
Just make a start.

blues

JAMES 1:17

Neal Pollard

Life, love, happiness, and health,
Water, worth, worship and wealth
Food, faith, dogs and dreams
Smiles, sunshine, singing and streams
Marriage, mothers, prayer and play
Friendship, flowers, tomorrow, today
Calvary, Christ, heaven and hope
Rain, resurrection, snow and soap
Family, frost, babies and birth
Books, baking, monkeys and mirth
Mountains, moonbeams, coffee and cake
Jokes, justification, serenades and steak
Aromas, affirmation, the dawn and the deep
Holidays, hiking, snuggling and sleep
Forgiveness, freedom, umbrellas and unity
Sports, service, internet and immunity
Jesus, joy, earth and eternity
Scripture, speech, fishing and fraternity
Prayer, pillows, picnics and Pickups,
Memory, mornings, happiness and hiccups
Whether obvious or subtle, earthly or spiritual
Why not create this euphoric, emphatic ritual
Count blessings and name them, you’ll never run out
In the process you’ll challenge your most serious doubt
God doesn’t have to, but He gives a continuous lift
When did you last thank Him for His every good gift?
The more that you dwell on them, the longer the list,
Engage in this enjoyable exercise and you’ll insist,
There’s no God like Jehovah, never was, never will be,
Add up your assets and this you’ll undoubtedly see.

THE TALE OF CYNIC, CYRUS DIFFY

Neal Pollard
At the corner of Oak and Griffey
Lived an old man, Cyrus Diffy. (*)
A lifelong skeptic, centered on self
With Dawkins and Darwin on his shelf
He scoffed at those he thought “too much,”
Who leaned on religion as their crutch.
Whose faith was rested on their Bible
Were subject to his scorn and libel.
His own morality and ethics were iffy
He was his own rule, Cyrus Diffy
No one could tell him how to live
For others he had nothing to give
Scorn metastasized, and he grew bitter
Spewed his venom on Facebook, on Twitter
With chip on shoulder, he sought debate
Relished each moment “the faith” to hate
One morning in his chair in one quick jiffy
The last breath was breathed by Cyrus Diffy
He lifted up his eyes in a place most unpleasant
With him each skeptic and agnostic were present
Yet like him they no longer could fuel their doubt
Now in this painful place with no door to get out.
He’d tied his whole life to his naturalistic bent
But rejected the Savior the Father had sent.
Let’s sum up concisely, I’ll try to be pithy
Here’s what we can learn from old Cyrus Diffy
We all hitch our wagons to some conviction
Determine what’s truth and what is fiction
Design exists, it points to a designer.
We feel moral ought, know what’s coarse, what’s finer
We’re built to worship, we possess intellect.
When charting life’s course, every angle inspect.
View your worldview, consider its implications
Choose based on logic not potential complications
Christian, you might pass by a place like Oak and Griffey
Live Christ well before all folks like the late Cyrus Diffy.

(*) “Cyrus Diffy” is a random name I made up and is
not meant to refer to anyone real having that name.

You Won’t Graduate From Our Love (Poem)

2014_05_13_14_07_55
Neal Pollard
We heard your voice at your first cries
Were the first to see your vibrant eyes
Held your tiny body, how fragile you were
Like yesterday we remember you sweet and pure
We laughed as you first tottered and walked
And wrote down what you said as you first talked
Marveled at every change and growth
Your wit and humor has always cheered us both
How time took wings and swiftly brought you to now
It’s been only a moment, hasn’t it? We ask “how?”
How has the infant grown into such a fine young man?
Into one who so sincerely follows God’s plan?
Who wants to serve others and share God’s great Word?
Who dreams of foreign fields where many haven’t heard?
Yes, you still bear the vigor and strength of young age
And so much lies before you and this is but one page
But it sends us backward in time for a moment or two
You’ve had 18 years of living, but to us they seem few
Who knows in God’s plan what for you lies ahead?
Just keep His will first as toward your future you tread.
Keep your sweet spirit and tender heart as it is
And continue to keep your strong hand in His
He’ll open the doors and He’ll always provide
As you stay in His Word and in His love abide.
We could not be more proud of your momentous milestone
Or pray more for you as you face your future unknown
As you take your diploma and plot your next move
Whatever you achieve, you’ll never graduate from our love.

(in honor of the graduation of our favorite middle son, James Dale Pollard)

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO MY MOM, BRENDA POLLARD (POEM)

Neal Pollard
Not a day goes by but that I remember something you said
Or did or showed me. I often play it out in my head
From when you read story books or sang to me
Or made breakfast for supper or tended a scraped knee
Peanut butter and chocolate sandwiches made me smile
Or strolls in the woods, identifying trees or flowers by the mile
When you helped me plant potatoes and saw me throw the cat
Or told me riddles and old sayings, cut my hair while I squirmingly sat
You made much of little but it felt like we had an abundant plenty
And you knew how to treat me when I was five, twelve and twenty
Homemade clothes I was proud of, and your gentle kind way
Mom, you’ve blessed me and shaped me. God bless you this day! 

SUNDAY MORN

Neal Pollard

I love to watch the sun come up
The first day of the week
I long for the bread and the cup
For the privilege of the gospel to speak
I love to see the saints assemble
To blend my voice with them in song
To smile, engage, contemplate, tremble
How ever much time it takes is not long
Each day is a blessing given from God
And filled with gifts and blessing
But one day helps the others get trod
“Which one?” There is no guessing!
It is that special day the church unites
The day when the church was born
And shouldn’t this all God’s ones excite
To worship God on Sunday morn?

And The Rain Fell

Neal Pollard

You’re building your house for life, not a day
By all that you do and everything you say
But more important than roof or even the walls
Is your foundation, for there’s coming floods and squalls.

Today the sky may be sunny and fair
And life may seem easy with no burden or care
But the clouds can gather with little or no warning
And strike with fury late at night or mid-morning.

If you’re building on sand, storms will still surely bombard
Whatever your strengths, deluges come steady and hard
The foundation will matter, it determines the outcome
The variables of your life surely influence the sum.

Great men of earth, building on other men’s acclaim
Must face life’s storms and its floods all the same
The beautiful people, who on this factor construct
Cannot escape how the gale forces strike and deduct

The theories and teachings of man’s own device
May seem like safe bedrock and sound very nice
But however solid they look or how long they may stand
At the end they’ll be seen for what they are, shifting sand.

You’re building your house for life, not just now
Take heed what you’re building on, why, where and how
For there’s coming a storm for which all must prepare
It will be all or nothing, no rebuild or repair.

But there is a material, failsafe and unbending
Proven by torrents, it’s trustworthiness is unending
That foundation is Christ, the only One of all
Shown to be eternally safe when the rain starts to fall.

(Matthew 7:24-27)

A NEW YEAR (poem)


Neal Pollard
Today a new calendar is hung
After auld lang syne was sung
Reflection and recollection done
New plans have arisen with the sun.
Yesterday is forever buried
New expectations now carried
Hope for a better tomorrow
Desire to avoid bitter sorrow
This year will bring the unexpected
Old goals may be resurrected
No crystal ball can reveal it
Or legislation force or repeal it
What will you do with this annum,
Which itself will next year be a phantom?
Will you take its reins with vigor
Or delay and await for what’s bigger?
Make each new day really count
Let not fear or worry surmount
Trust in God, the giver of time
Keep aiming for an eternity sublime.

Take Not The Day For Granted (POEM)

Neal Pollard
Take not the day for granted,
Who knows what the morrow brings,
What present joy be recanted,
What shut the mouth that now sings.
Too often we long for tomorrow,
Assuring ourselves it will be perfect,
Dissatisfied with present perceived sorrow
Viewing only today’s every defect.
But right now, this moment, is precious
It holds a bright and unique treasure
For the one with wisdom who confesses
Trust in Him who blesses without measure
Yes, God gave us this day in His kindness
To use for His glory and pleasure
How tragic to be struck with a blindness
To how rare and how useful that treasure.
So many have not been gifted these hours
They’ve ceased their ability to live them
Who long for what now exceeds their powers
Whose light is put out, not just dim.
What are we doing with the present
To build a spectacular time ahead
To make others’ lives blessed, not just pleasant
To bring life to the spiritually dead
Take not the day for granted,
It was given to be managed astutely
Embrace it, don’t be disenchanted
Do your best with it, strive resolutely!

Happiness (POEM)

Photo by Ying Prinyanut

Neal Pollard

What do I need to make for joy?
To beat those troubles that annoy?
Can it be bought or taken from others?
What would I get if I had my druthers?
Would I find it in possessions, investments, land?
A car that’s new or a house that’s grand?
That perfect someone to make me satisfied?
A high position to feed my pride?
When I have seen some with hardly a possession
Who know nothing of materialistic obsession
Anonymous to paparazzi and heads of state
Facing perils and diseases with no way to abate
Living contentedly, day after day
Trusting God gladly to provide them a way
Loving their neighbors and spiritual siblings
All without virtue of a bevy of things
That tells me something, I’d better take notice
Of something the apostle Paul long ago wrote us,
“Whether you have or don’t, or you spend or are spent,
Whatever you face, in life be content.”

Gratitude (POEM)


Neal Pollard

An attitude of gratitude
Gives anyone the latitude
To express with joy
Each girl or boy
Or adult, too, with fortitude
That “I am blessed”
And if it’s confessed
We all are given
From God in heaven
What’s right and best.
But everywhere
From here to there
Folks forget to say
Or thank Him and pray
“Thanks for Your care!”

The Value Of Self-Forgetfulness (Poem)

Neal Pollard

Imagine a garden of flowers

With a rose in its midst in full bloom

This one blossom feels that it towers

Over all others sharing its space and room

It’s sure that its pedals are most plush

No other more red in its hue

No stem greener, no rival more lush

It sought every admirer’s view.

One day the gardener visited the flowers

For a customer desired a bouquet

They’d shared the same sun and showers

Shared the same rich soil day by day.

But the proud flower stretched tall its red blooming

Puffed itself to its broadest dimension

But the man searched out ones unassuming

Their modesty drew his closest attention.

For the budding roses would bloom with more vim

In the care of the interested client

Trusting food, water, and housing to him

The posy proved itself quite reliant.

But the abandoned, proud rose surely wilted

His pedals dropped one by sad one

By each customer it felt painfully jilted

Til finally it was dead and gone.

The moral of the story conjures sadness

But its truth we ought never to hide

Fullness of self is pure madness

We hurt self most when we’re full of pride

Forget self, be more modest as you grow

Don’t seek glory and men’s adulation.

The Gardener sees all and surely does know

How to use us. Trust His perfect estimation.