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Dec 2015 · 431
His Creation Glory
Who can claim Noah’s children story;
As God's Creation glory:
on this stretched out melancholy scope;
My mind oozed with realistic creation hope:
Human descends as modern man;
On these plains In Gods creation plan:
Other life appeared in this heavenly evolutionary realm;
Images of a grand scale desert carve;
do not reflect changes as of late:
Long long before the bible paradise story;
An early dawn hovered over His creation glory:
Long before our creator;
chased a ballooning Universe onto its;
majestic expansion flight;
God’s colorful creation earned;
His personal stamp & light:
Nov 2015 · 903
The owl box
When I was but a lad, pliable, supple and bold,

daddy built an owl box of timber,

buckled and old.

Gnarled by nasty weather,

displaying her shady spree,

Protecting life from the noonday sun, my African tree.

Facing the rising sun in site my bedroom window,

daddy's owl box was latched.

A perfect observation hide. With the excitement of youth,

I was impatiently waiting for the owl chicks to hatch.

I marveled at their speedy growth, and wonder,

Could it be all the rodents, from a barn out yonder?

A shock of soft snowy plumage, handsome and tall,

a summer month away from fall.

In early spring with late frost abound,

I awake to a familiar sound.

With night ear focused on the outside wall,

out of dark and sight the repeated call:
Nov 2015 · 1.2k
My Rosemary
How can I not write a few words for my Rosemary;
In these times of trouble and strive;
You’ve been as of late like an angel in my life:
I’ve leant to see only the good & positive in you;
And not failed to notice the change that’s honest and true;
My saying is rather late then never in this life that’s so fray;
I’m to blame for past stubbornness in our daily lives;
Because if I see error,
things will improve as Jesus looks down from above;
I notice how you care for cat and dogs;
They show you nothing but loyalty and love;
Happy 65th birthday my turtle dove:
8th Nov 2015
Nov 2015 · 1.9k
Mandela's children
Mandela's children
At night when I lay down my head,
hugging my thin cardboard bed,
cold, hungry and alone.
I dream of a warm loving family
and a sweet loving home,
a piece of bread, a bowl of soup, chunk of clay,
a time of blissful happiness and play.
Maize meal fortified with vitamins
can even stop me begging for food.
Sustenance, to last me a day which is good.
Flute & clay, will discipline and soothe my soul,
Mould my character to reach my goal.
Some computer games children play
can develop and sharpen intellect,
Help me with evaluation project.
Fighting for a place in the sun
I came into the world innocent, hungry and cold,
And with your help even growing old.
The expanding world of technology
are setting new goals regular a day,
Shrinking, much needed coin wasting away.
The name of the scientist,
in history books forever will lay,
inevitably he stumbles,
upon a cure for *** Aids one day.
Sept 2007
Dragonfly   o   Dragonfly  
framed against a lazy summer sky,
you'll hover and ponder out yonder,
like an acrobat you fly.

You'll dance and dart, hover and peer,
Touching, stalking, feathered walking.
On pond shadows dark and near,
onto sunbeams  sparkling clear.

Casting imaged reflections,
on a mirrored surface of life's crystal pond.
Where ever-diminishing dainty rippled circles,
disappear onto a distant misty shore beyond.

You'll ponder and peep,
through dark secrets your pond might keep,  
captured images of animals & bees,
scented flowers & soft young trees.

About political boundary bursts,
and agonizing desert thirsts.
While strife-torn agony song is being sung,
at the scorching heat of the searing Sun.

Witnessing a climate change,
Industrial, Oil, Air & Waste pollution.
With no workable cleanup program in site,
to warrant a solution.

Our planet's resources stretched,
to its limits by human misery & industry untold.
Life's habitats are disappearing,
the beginning of Earth end is nearing.

It is inevitable that soon, to soon,
after million a year, on life's crystal ponds so clear.
You'll too succumb to man's industrious endevours,
and for eternity disappear.
Andreas Strauss.16 June 2007

— The End —