Jul 26, 2010 - Chicken Scratchin's, Poems    No Comments

Now, Let it Be

Dear God, I cannot sleep.
With much tribulation in my soul,
(That you promised to always  keep)
Yet send your goodness to make me whole.

Weary, sleepless, I face each day
In a daze, not knowing where to turn,
Yet you seem to always have a way
For me to make it as I live and learn.

I see always wrong I did in life,
With no answer yet in sight.
How can I ever be a wife
When I haven’t done it right?

I fear for the man who marries me—
That he might regret that sad mistake.
I trust in you to not let it be
As I lie alone and wide awake.

No one is ever alone, it reads
In the Holy Word, I keep inside.
Yet—Spirit that fills my  needs—
Could it be my soul is being tried?

Into each life the rain must fall,
It tells me in the Holy Word,
But God, I cannot take it all
Unless you stand by me, dear Lord.

Lift up my body, that unsleeping form,
And hold it ever close to Thee,
To keep me ever safe from harm,
But if you cannot, then let it be.
—Lois Barrett ‘91

Jul 26, 2010 - Chicken Scratchin's, Poems    No Comments

Second Chance

Oh God, I heard his voice again  today
And the thrill I felt was a sight  to behold
As I rushed to let my best friend  know,
But the look on my face—she’d  been “told.”

Thank God for mercy gentle and sweet
Is all I can find to say just now,
As I wait patiently  for his  call,
Because the relief I feel unfurrowed my brow.

Silently, quickly he stole my heart;
But never can know—I cannot  say
How much he played a part
In making my life a brighter day.
Once again I reach for his gentle  heart
And push impatience aside as I   await
His call, this gentle friend of  mine,
To ask me for a second, happy  date.

Oh God, forgive me for what I   have done,
And lead me back to the narrow  and straight.
Because in thy will I would   have already won
The best you had, and not have to wait.
—Lois Fowler ‘91

Jul 26, 2010 - Chicken Scratchin's, Poems    No Comments

First Meeting

Tall, proud, white-haired and steely-eyed,
He stood waiting and I recognized
That he was the one I was meeting,
So I nervously smiled a ‘first greetin.’

Glasses dignified the handsome face
As he waited, I slowly took a  place
Beside him, and he knew, sure  knew;
“This is the woman I’ve written    to.”

Wonder filled my mind as I  thought:
“Will he like the clothes I  bought?”
Nervous laughter and inanities   poured forth
From the lips of this woman from the north.

As the evening wore on I felt  worse,
And mistook his silence for  being terse.
It’s over, I thought as I opened  the door
Of his nice, Ford truck, but—  more?

“I’d like to see you again,” he quietly said,
Just when I thought the whole thing dead.
“You would?” I gulped in great  surprise,
And turned to look again at those eyes.

Dear God in heaven, does he really approve?
“Would you like me to call,  when I move?”
Was all I could think to talk  about,
And he answered “Yes,” so I stepped on out.

Gentleman that he was, he “saw  me” to my abode
By following me to the turnoff  of the road.
No great thing—a critic might  say,
But it was late, and such a long  way.

Then out of “pride” we could  call it that,
I wrote dumb letters to combat
Any thought I might have in desperation,
That widows and dates have no relations.

Oh, silent handsome man of the  south:
Did I lose it all with my Yankee  mouth?
Now I wait hopefully by the  phone each day,
Just hoping he will once again say:
“I’d like to see you again.”
—Lois Barrett ‘91