A comeback story of Super Bowl proportions;
Lunacy in the Land of Lincoln

It’s a Warner-ful Life
A comeback story of Super Bowl proportions

Like George Bailey of Bedford Falls
who knew the sting of dreams that stalled,
Kurt Warner couldn’t understand
why hopes were put on hold.

A gifted college quarterback,
he had “the stuff” and was on track
to make the pros and make a name.
But Kurt was sadly cut.

First by The Pack and then Da Bears.
Rejection? Yes, more than his share.
But, Kurt refused to just give up.
In hardship, faith was born.

And while it’s true he found the Lord,
he also found three to adore.
A single mom with two small kids
who’d been to Hell and back.

When Brenda nabbed her shining knight,
Kurt turned her topsy world upright.
Brain injury, heartache and death
gave way to hope and life.

And Brenda helped her knight hold on
to dreams he thought were dead and gone.
What Mary Bailey gave to George,
Kurt got from his best fan.

And just like in that Capra script
where George at last made sense of it,
Kurt Warner’s dreams in time came true
within the NFL.

So as the Cards clash with the Steel,
who wins is not that big of deal.
What matters even more to me
is that Kurt’s there to play.
 

Lunacy in the Land of Lincoln
Hot Rod left the race track of reason

Honest Abe can’t rest in peace.
He’s turning in his grave
and all because Blagojevich
is one deceptive knave.

The governor’s a maniac.
Rich Daley thinks he’s nuts.
He hears “impeach” and thinks it’s fruit.
And now this Serb’s in Dutch.

Hot Rod with his cold steely eyes
is demolition bound.
He’s won the derby of deceit.
His trophy? Cuffed and bound.

He lost his job and faces trial
in weeks and months to come.
He’s bound to be convicted
in the first degree as dumb.

The Land of Lincoln has been raped
by Blago-types too long.
It’s high time these low-lifers pay
for all they’ve done that’s wrong.

Pondering the Chief Justice’s uncharacteristic gaff;
The Plane Truth About Being Prepared

A Violation of Roberts’ Rules of Order
Pondering the Chief Justice’s uncharacteristic gaff

His hand on Lincoln’s Bible
and a smile on his face
that became a look of terror
as Barack (to his disgrace)

flubbed the oath of his new office.
Oh, how awkward. How insane!
Why did black-robed judge John Roberts
try it note-less? How inane!

That embarrassing long silence
that supreme and pregnant pause
was the fault of our chief justice
who interprets all our laws.

As a rule our high court’s leader
is prepared and in control.
He has rules by which he lives by.
Prepped and ready. That’s his goal.

Roberts’ rules dictate strict order.
He’s a stickler for exact.
So then why this Big Day blunder?
Did the huge crowd make him crack?

Swearing solemnly’s expected
of the one who takes an oath.
Still I’m guessing he who gave it
also swore (but like an oaf).

How he wished for a do-over.
One more chance to get it right.
And most graciously Obama
let him do that Wednesday night.

 
The Plane Truth About Being Prepared
A lesson we can all retrieve from that Hudson River miracle

What happened in the Hudson River
was enough to make us shiver.
A plane went down, but all survived.
It was a miracle!

And while it really sounds absurd,
the engines ate a flock of birds.
That rendered both the jet and geese
incapable to fly.

The pilot had no time to think
before he ditched into the drink.
When danger struck he simply did
what he’d been taught to do.

Averting a sure tragedy
was hardly luck, it seems to me.
God used a skilled and well-trained man
to rob the jaws of death.

So too, with us, when we’re surprised
by crises right before our eyes.
Since there’s no time to make a plan,
we’d better plan ahead.

The spectrum of hope through a prism of change;
Two Black Men, One Holy Purpose

Color It Historic
The spectrum of hope through a prism of change

A black man in a white house
means a bright red letter day.
Blue skies abound for all who live
within the USA.

We’re in the pink as we recall
the blessings God has given.
How we survived that dark gray day
we nicknamed 9-11.

The world is green with envy as
it contemplates our fame.
Our purple mountains’ majesty
and amber waves of grain.

If only Martin King were here
to see this rainbow day.
A crown of gold could not compare
with that for which he prayed.

Yes, we’ve good cause to celebrate
and do this thing up brown.
What was George W’s D.C.
is now Obama’s town. 

Two Black Men, One Holy Purpose
An inauguration poem and prayer

On Lincoln’s steps a black man stood
and voiced a God-size dream.
With prophet-eyes he saw a day
that no one else had seen.

A day of true equality
where color doesn’t count.
Where every person has a chance.
Where trust replaces doubt.

But tragically this one who dreamed
would not see it fulfilled.
Incarnate hate took aim at hope
and Martin’s voice was stilled.

On Lincoln’s steps a black man stands
declaring hope’s alive.
The change of which another dreamed
has come and will survive.

He looks intently down the Mall
aware his time has come
to live the dream and lead the way
uniting us as one.

God, bless America
as You bless the new president
America inaugurates today.

As he pledges allegiance to Old Glory,
be glorified through his admission
that we are indeed one nation under You.

As he listens to Your servant Rick Warren
pray over the proceedings of this day,
help him hear Your heart
beating with concern
for righteousness, justice and compassion.

As he lays his hand upon Your Word
and takes an oath of faithfulness,
lay Your hand upon his life
and remind Him of Your promises to be faithful
to all who dare to honor You.

As he stands to address those
who look to him as Commander-in-Chief,
stand beside him and remind him
that he has been seated
in this place of honor and responsibility
by You alone.

As You bless Barack Hussein Obama
with a tangible sense of Your presence,
God, bless America.  Amen.

Slumdog Millionaire offers truth you can bank on;
A Prince of Peace

Treasure in Life’s Trash
Slumdog Millionaire offers truth you can bank on

There’s a movie getting rave reviews.
An indy film (quite rare)
about a kid who won big bucks.
It’s Slumdog Millionaire.

It paints an abstract picture of
a truth that’s most concrete.
The canvas of this arty flick
boasts something really neat.

Slumdog points out the rich reward
in what seems waste at best.
Misfortune’s dung and what life deals
give answers to life’s tests.

No heartache’s wasted by our God.
He uses all we face.
Rejections, breakups, loss and pain
are gifts we can embrace.

For in each hurt we’re offered hints
that help us move ahead.
Defeat’s a lifeline in disguise.
Dead ends aren’t really dead.

A treasure hides deep down inside
those things that cause despair.
I searched and found redemptive truth
in Slumdog Millionaire.

 
A Prince of Peace
Reflections on Martin Luther King’s 80th birthday
 
In the year the market fell,
well…

A king had a son
who’d be known as 
a prince of peace
in a world of hate.

He was named after 
a pastor in Germany
who has branded an enemy
over the stand he took
understood by a few.

His name was a clue
that his life
(also lived as a pastor)
would be played in a minor key.

Still, Martin Luther King
taught us how to sing
the lyrics of love.

In 1968
hate stilled his voice
but, not his song.

It is still heard
in schools and churches
and city squares and everywhere
the color of a person’s blood
matters more than
the color of their skin.

Peace be to his memory
and to the world he Nobel-y served. 

Reflections on the death of his teenage son;
A New Year’s Dance-a-thon

John Travolta’s Dance with Sorrow
Reflections on the death of his teenage son

His Jett went down
and John gave up
all hope of finding
that life would ever be
the same as it once was.

This one
(who for three decades
has been defined
by a Saturday Night Fever)
now attempts to find comfort
from a Friday morning nightmare.

The dance beat
of a Brooklyn nightclub
is a distant
(and insignificant)
memory
when contrasted to
the heartbreak
of a Bahamian bungalow.

No Bee Gees music in the background.
John Travolta’s slow dance with sorrow
has a soundtrack of silence.
Staying Alive ceased to be
a memorable melody
when it became
an unanswered prayer.

And so a grieving dad
calls out to a Father
who appears deaf.

A much-loved
special needs child is gone.
But hear his famous parent
(with special needs of his own)
vent his indescribable pain.

“God, if you only knew
what it is like
for your one and only son
to be robbed of life.
If only you could identify
with losing a part of yourself.
If only you could,
then maybe,
just maybe,
you could understand
the agony that consumes me.”

And the solitary figure
continues to turn and twist
in the shadows.

It’s a lonely dance
amid the shattered bits of light
that emanate
from a rotating mirror ball.

As if lost in a universe
of countless stars,
a middle age creature
listens for the Creator’s reply.

A New Year’s Dance-a-thon
Waltzing with the unknown

As we embrace this brand new year,
we’ll learn to dance with change
as God our Father takes the lead
with moves that may seem strange.
And still the music calls to mind
that change need not be feared
for He who knows what lies ahead
has promised to be near.

So let us waltz with gratitude
for all the Lord provides.
Our daily bread, employment too
and loved ones by our side.
Come join the new year’s dance-a-thon
with twists and turns and spins.
Let’s find our feet, kick up our heels
and leave the lead to Him.