Tag: poetry

KINDNESS, KINDNESS

KINDNESS, KINDNESS

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Neal Pollard

It was a dream, but it seemed so real to me
Hiking up a steep and rocky trail
Treacherous and hard, as far as eyes could see
So difficult, it seemed I’d fall and fail

But by my side, two men I knew so well,
My mother’s dad and one of my own elders
Their presence meant more than my lips could tell
Somehow I knew I’d make it with such helpers

We came upon a woman weathered by many years
Riddled by aches and pains and total blindness
Who told us a way to conquer foes and fears
Two words she kept repeating: “Kindness, kindness.”

It breaks the boulders of other travelers’ loads
And sweeps away all that trips and grabs
You give it freely as you climb such roads
And find it softens cruelest persecutors’ jabs.

We took her by the arm as we kept going,
Higher up this highway to our goal,
We sang a hymn and smiled with headwinds blowing
This cheered each heart and strengthened every soul.

It seemed no time the rocky stretch was traversed
The winds were calm, blue skies displayed God’s fineness
How did we keep the pace? No one reversed!
I knew full well, ’twas “kindness, kindness.”

Kindness given, kindness received, I know it!
Costs nothing to give, ’tis treasure to receive.
You’ll get much back if you’ll take the time to show it.
‘Twill give men faith and help them to believe.

Suddenly, my companions disappeared from view,
Awake, I pondered over such simple wiseness.
How can I ease your way to help and bless you?
I’ll show you nothing less than kindness, kindness!

From The Pollard Poetry Archives (III)

From The Pollard Poetry Archives (III)

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Two Prayers In The Temple
Neal Pollard

Up high and proud my boasts I declare
I brag and I crow with my head in the air
Til I look in the corner and see him down there
Why is that poor sinner locked up in despair?

I abstain from eating two days every week
I give money too freely, Thy thanks I now seek.
Why is that man crying, the tears stain his cheek
He’s beating his chest, must be some kind of trick.

Lord, I’m not like the swindler, the philanderer, the cheat,
Or even like that tax collector with whose prayer I compete,
I’m walking out now, Lord, my preening’s complete,
But I’ll see You here next time my boasts to repeat

While scarcely detected a man whispered his plea
His face to the floor, if not on one knee
All the sinner could say was, “Be merciful to me!”
And he left more justified than the proud Pharisee.
(Luke 18:9-14)

(prayJune 8, 1997)

From The Pollard Poetry Archives (II)

From The Pollard Poetry Archives (II)

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The “Wishwewouldas”
Neal Pollard

In the place of “Wishwewoulda”
Lived a people who surely could ‘a
Reached the lost in their great land
But all the “let’s” got soundly canned!

There in impious “Wishwewoulda”
All those Christians surely should ‘a
They had the money, had the skill
But lacked the love, they lacked the will

Those Christian folk in “Wishwewoulda”
Failed to consider the eternal good ‘a
All those lost folks dyin’ in sin
They expected the outsiders to walk on in

In life, they said not, “Wish We Woulda”
Self was tops in the neighborhood ‘a
All those lost folks; But, then, a fearful thing
Those “do not” Christians each went before the King

He asked them, one by one, “Oh, why?
You let these opportunities just lie!
You get no crown, though you sure could have.”
Say they, “We won not one. We wish we would have.”
(December 15, 1996)

I Met A Soul Today (POEM)

I Met A Soul Today (POEM)

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Neal Pollard

A lonely soul was crying out
For someone to direct
Their mind to know the will of God
But I chose to deflect.

An edgy soul was acting out
Intimidating and coarse
Yet they were searching for the truth
I recoiled with too little remorse.

A hopeful soul was reaching out
And attended our worship service
But I was busy, too much to do
To connect, plus I was nervous.

A hurting soul, in time of loss
Crossed my path today
I felt so bad that he was grieved
But still I hurried on my way.

A lost soul was needing Christ
She is destined for eternity
I was busy, nervous, no zeal for her
Guess I was too caught up in me

The next soul that I come upon
Lord, may I try with zeal
To share your grace and teach your Word
And your matchless love reveal.

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My Father, From An Early Age

My Father, From An Early Age

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Neal Pollard

My father, from an early age you taught me to be true,
But when I wavered on what that was, I could always look at you.

You taught me how the Lord comes first at work, at school, at play
But how much easier that became when you practiced that each day.

Dear child, I may not perfectly that narrow path traversed
But when you see me fail, dear child, I pray I will reverse

For fathers come, they teach us much, and character is fashioned
By what we think and say and do, by each prayer and passion

Dear Father, help me teach my children to walk in holy ways
But let me do that by my living, I have but a fleeting, few days

May Your lessons, Lord, they come to learn at my feet of clay,
Instill a faith that will survive ’til they get to the Judgment Day.

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Seeing Through Others’ Eyes

Seeing Through Others’ Eyes

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Neal Pollard

What is the greatest trial?
What do men so despise?
The hardest climb and dreariest mile
Is seeing through another’s eyes.

It may appear uncomplicated,
Completely cut and dry,
But our skills may be overrated,
As we try to see through the other’s eye.

We don’t know what they’re thinking
Can’t know their circumstance
Or how abruptly their heart is sinking
From our outward, presumptuous glance

Their motivation quite hidden,
About their intentions we have no clue,
Reading minds God made forbidden,
We can’t see from their point of view.

Instead, the chore is vital,
As we look on from without,
Our object is entitled,
To every benefit of the doubt.

Let’s pray for them, be their servant,
Love them with a Christ-like love,
Show a kindness warm and fervent,
Trust the All-Seeing-Eye above.

Treat them how we’d want to be treated,
Treat them strictly by The Book,
Leave their heart to the One seated,
Who can watch with a perfect look.

The challenge becomes less daunting
When we cut it down to size
And we give what we’re always wanting
A loving look from through Jesus’ eyes.

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Homesick

Homesick

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Neal Pollard

This time of year our minds go back
To days gone by, down memory’s track
Of laughter, stories, food and walks
Singing, sharing family history and talks

Some who once were in our clannish stable
Have left our banquets for the heavenly table
Childhood recollections may be larger than life
And death or loss may cut like the proverbial knife

Football played on the lawn or watched on the screen
Presents opened and distant relatives seen
For the blessed, much spiritual guidance and contemplation
And talk of our hope and our common anticipation

Do you miss those times of hearth or home?
Or revel in its prospect, when kids and kin soon will come?
Are you in the company of those Scripture upholds?
Those who desire a better country, with streets of clear gold?

Who are longing for a room in the Father’s house?
To bask in the Light that no tears can ever douse?
To stroll the banks by the gentle River Of Life,
A place of happiness, joy, peace, but no strife.

A place full of family, both known or which we meet
Of those we met in Scripture or those who made our lives sweet?
Are you longing for something far better than here,
Where sight replaces faith, where peace tramples fear?

Is your life centered around new heavens, new earth
Where righteousness dwells, only those of the new birth?
Do you long for what happens after being put in the ground
The home of the soul where eternity is found?

Let’s long for and live for that heavenly land
Where we’ll see God’s dear face and hold Jesus’ hand.

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Thanksgiving 1994, at Gary and Brenda Pollard’s house (baby is Gary)

A Proverb To Ponder

A Proverb To Ponder

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Neal Pollard

Now, not all our attenders are members,
And not all our members are attenders,
But if all our attenders were members,
And all our members were attenders

THEN…

We’d have more trouble menders,
More gospel defenders,
And more true soul-winners!

BUT…

We’d have fewer people offenders,
Fewer spiritual hinderers,
And fewer religious pretenders!

SO…

Let us all render a more tender surrender
To the Commander of a love full of splendor!
As we meander on this earth full of sinners,
Let us engender a life with the Lord at the center.

Before You Type Or Talk Today

Before You Type Or Talk Today

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Neal Pollard

A pick, a poke, a controversy,
Hit and run, a verbal grenade,
We may see it as clever, though without mercy
And own it like an accolade

But are we making people think
When what and how we say it scars?
If it causes a stir, a strife, a stink
Instead of edifying it maligns and mars?

People should be thinking anyway
And what they think should be of good report
Let’s meditate on what we say
Not load up on sarcastic, sardonic retort.

The world already knows that tactic
And uses it at the drop of scarf and hat
It brightens no story, dresses up no didactic
But stokes the fire and escalates the spat

Here’s something requiring greater skill
You won’t find it in general practice
Restraint and kindness, grace and good will
Be a rose in a field of cactus.

When entering today the public sphere
And the marketplace of varied ideas
Let the Jesus in you shine bright and clear
So they can look at you and believe He is!

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In Awe Of The Greatest Freedom

In Awe Of The Greatest Freedom

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Neal Pollard

I once was without representation,
Not a citizen of that chosen nation,
Enslaved and oppressed,
Deprived of the best,
And discouraged by my lowly station,

But my freedom was bought at a price,
With the one ransom that would suffice,
Sweet liberty was bought,
And my freedom I sought,
When I opted for virtue instead of vice.

Independence is becoming and sweet,
It is found when I fall at His feet,
And make Him my Master,
I avoid pain and disaster,
He offers me victory for my defeat.

I celebrate privileged position,
Embrace His heavenly mission,
Knowing the blessings He gives,
Is because He still lives,
He hears the faithful disciple’s petition.

As we celebrate the blessings in this land,
Bestowed by a Providential hand,
Let us never forget,
That He paid our great debt,
He’s preparing what’s infinitely more grand.

Whatever may become of our dear country,
I pray that our eyes will always see,
That no earthly place is home,
We are strangers who will roam,
’Til we reach the Great City across the sea.

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