Good works poems

Good works poems


Yellow is the sun!  It is dandelions and daffodils
It is the do-not-pass lines on the road;
Yellow is lemons, Tweety Bird is yellow;
Yellow is energy and golden light; it is the morning;
It is cheerful, giving .
What is yellow?  Yellow is Good Works

Good Works

When you set out at the start of another day,
Do you hope to do a good deed in some way?
A deed small, like helping someone on a bus.

But is it enough to just hope for that chance
To do good works and help a life to enhance?
Or should we work harder, kind deeds to perform,
A little note or a phone call, a sweet smile to warm?

Good works are vessels to carry us safely home,
Back to our God in heaven after on earth we roam,
If we miss too many chances of doing a good deed,
We may not have the opportunity to really succeed.

So be on the lookout for good works to be done,
And before long the hardest battle will be won,
For good works means first thinking of others,
Not of yourself, but of your sisters and brothers.

Sermons We See
I’d rather see a sermon than hear one–any day.
I’d rather one should walk with me, than merely show the way.
The eyes a better pupil and more willing than the ear;
Fine council is confusing, but example is always clear.
The best of all the preachers are the men who live their creeds,
For, to see the good action is what everybody needs.
I can say, I’ll learn how to do it if you’ll let me see it done;
I can watch your hand in action though your tongue too fast may run.
Although the lectures you deliver may be very wise and true,
I’d rather learn my lesson by observing what you do;
For I may misunderstand you and fine advice you give,
But it’s not misunderstanding how you act and how you live.
Edgar A. Guest


People are unreasonable, illogical and self-centered,

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives,

If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies,

The good you do will be forgotten tomorrow,

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable,

What you spent years building may be destroyed overnight,

People really need help but may attack you if you help them,

Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth,

Because You Loved Me
By Celine Dion

For All the times you stood by me
For all the truth that you made me see
For all the joy you brought to my life
For all the wrong that you made right
For every dream you made come true
For all the love I found in you
Ill be forever Thankful baby
You’re the one who held me up
Never let me fall
You’re the one who saw me through it all

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn’t speak
You were my eyes when I couldn’t see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach
You gave me faith cause you believed
I’m everything I am
Because you loved me

You gave me wings and made me fly
You touched my hand I could touch the sky
I lost my faith, you gave it back to me
You said no star was out of reach
You stood by me and I stood tall
I had your love I had it all
I’m grateful for each day you gave me
Maybe I don’t know that much
But I know this much is true
I was blessed because I was loved by you.

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn’t speak
You were my eyes when I couldn’t see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach
You gave me faith cause you believed
I’m everything I am
Because you loved me

You were always there for me
The tender wind that carried me
A light in the dark shining your love into my life
You’ve been my inspiration
Through the lies you were the truth
My world is a better place because of you

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn’t speak
You were my eyes when I couldn’t see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach
You gave me faith cause you believed
I’m everything I am
Because you loved me.

Drop A Pebble

Drop a pebble in the water: just a splash, and it is gone;
But there’s half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on,
Spreading, spreading from the center, flowing on out to the sea.
And there is no way of telling where the end is going to be.

Drop a pebble in the water: in a minute you forget,
But there’s little waves a-flowing, and there’s ripples circling yet,
And those little waves a-flowing to a great big wave have grown;
You’ve disturbed a mighty river just by dropping in a stone.

Drop an unkind word, or careless: in a minute it is gone;
But there’s half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on.
They keep spreading, spreading, spreading from the center as they go,
And there is no way to stop them, once you’ve started them to flow.

Drop an unkind word, or careless: in a minute you forget;
But there’s little waves a-flowing, and there’s ripples circling yet,
And perhaps in some sad heart a mighty wave of tears you’ve stirred,
And disturbed a life was happy ere you dropped that unkind word.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: just a flash and it is gone;
But there’s half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on,
Bearing hope and joy and comfort on each splashing, dashing wave
Till you wouldn’t believe the volume of the one kind word you gave.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: in a minute you forget;
But there’s gladness still a-swelling, and there’s joy circling yet,
And you’ve rolled a wave of comfort whose sweet music can be heard
Over miles and miles of water just by dropping one kind word.
Author James W. Foley

A peasant once unthinkingly
Spread tales about a friend.
But later found the rumors false
And hoped to make amend.

He sought the counsel of a monk,
A man esteemed and wise,
Who heard the peasant’s story through
And felt he must advise.

The kind monk said:

“If you would have
A mind again at peace,
I have a plan whereby you may

From trouble find release.

“Go fill a bag with chicken down
And to each dooryard go
And lay one fluffy feather where
The streams of gossip how.

The peasant did as he was told
And to the monk returned,
Elated that his penance was
A thing so quickly earned.

“Not yet,” the old monk sternly said,
“Take up your bag once more
And gather up the feathers that
You placed at every door.

The peasant, eager to atone,
Went hastening to obey,
No feathers met his sight, the wind
Had blown them all away.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television – and more while watching life.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.

I would never have bought anything just because it wasn’t practical, wouldn’t show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more “I love you’s”… more “I’m sorry’s”…but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute… look at it and really see it…live it…and never give it back.
–In memory of Erma Bombeck who lost her fight with cancer.

“Supposing today were
your last day on earth,
The last mile of the journey you’ve trod;
After all of your struggles,
how much are you worth?
How much can you take home to God?
Don’t count as possessions
your silver and gold,
Tomorrow you leave these behind,
And all that is yours to have and to hold
Is the service you’ve given mankind.”

Just a humble loaf of bread,
But ’twas once a bowl of paste,
Which, if I left in that condition
Would have surely gone to waste.

But, when kneaded, it was changed
Into something good to eat.
By some kind and loving hands
And an interval of heat.

We, like that loaf of bread,
Must be “needed” to become
What the Lord desires of us
Ere we return back home.

But we cannot “Need ourselves”
We must all serve one another
With kind and loving hands,
Just like our elder Brother,

So that when we are subjected
To that interval of heat,
We’ll be like the loaf of bread;
Warm and smooth, and smelling sweet.

Ten little members standing in a line.
One disliked the president Then there were nine.
Nine ambitious members offered to work late.
One forgot her promise; then there were eight.
Eight creative members had ideas good as heaven.
One lost enthusiasm, then there were seven.
Seven loyal members got into a fix
They quarreled over programs, and then there were six.
Six members remained with spirit and drive.
One moved away, then there were five
Five steadfast members wished there were more.
One became indifferent, then there were four.
Four cheerful members who never disagree –
Till one complained of meetings, then there were three.
Three eager members! What do they do?
One got discouraged then there were two.
Two lonely member so our rhyme is nearly done
One joined the bridge club, then there was one.
One faithful member was feeling rather blue.
Met with a neighbor, then there were two.
Two earnest members each enrolled one more.
Doubling their number, then there were four.
Four determined members just couldn’t wait,
Till each won another, and then there were eight!
Eight excited members signed up 8 more.
In another six verses, there’ll be a thousand twenty four!!!

Special People

The special people in this world
are the most precious
and the most appreciated people of all.

No matter what happens,
they always seem to understand.
They go a million miles out of their way.
They hold your hand.
They bring you smiles,
when a smile is exactly what you need.
They listen and they hear what is said
in the spaces between the words.
They care,

and they let you know
you’re in their prayers.

Special people
always know the perfect thing to do.
They can make your whole day
just by saying something
that no one else could have said.
Sometimes you feel like
they share with you a secret language
that others can’t tune into.

Special people

can guide you,
inspire you,
comfort you,
and light up your life with laughter.

Special people
understand your moods and nurture your needs,
and they lovingly know
just what you’re after.

When your feelings come from deep inside
and the need to be spoken to someone;
you don’t have to

hide from,
you share them…
with special people.

When good news comes,

special people,

are the first ones you turn to,
and when feelings overflow
and tears need to fall,
special people
help you through it all.

Special people
bring sunlight into your life.
They warm your world with their presence,
whether they are far away or close by your side.

Special people
are gifts that bring happiness,
and treasures that money can’t buy.

Author unknown

The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the Winter’s day.
The street was wet with a recent snow,
And the woman’s feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street, with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of “school let out,”
Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep. …
[One] paused beside her and whispered low,
“I’ll help you cross, if you wish to go? …
“She’s somebody’s mother, boys, you know,
For all she’s aged and poor and slow.
“And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
If ever she’s poor and old and gray,
When her own dear boy is far away.
And “somebody’s mother” bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was, “God be kind to the noble boy,
Who is somebody’s son, and pride and joy.”
       ~ Mary Dow Brine