God Guides My Hand
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About this ebook
Many of us have had parallel lives. You will recognize many poems in 'God Guides My Hand'
that pertains to you.
I feel I'm not the author of 'God Guides My Hand,' I am just the guide of the pen.
Judy Walsh Pickett
I was born in Dayton, Ohio in 1948. My family moved to Muncie, Indiana when I was five years old. I lived in Muncie most of my life till November, 2010. I, along with my husband and soul mate, Bill, and our two adorable pets, Sammy (our dog) and Shadow (our cat) are residing in Saint Cloud, Florida.
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Book preview
God Guides My Hand - Judy Walsh Pickett
The Rose
Upon the earth God put a flower,
He tended to it every hour.
A velvet feel to the touch,
God loved that flower so very much.
From a seed, just as it grows
Into a lovely, lilting rose.
Petals open at the break of light
For all to see this glorious sight.
The thorn’s a symbol of the rose
And of life’s trials as it grows.
Beauty to behold in my eye
Won’t be forgot, won’t ever die.
There is one thing that I do feel,
A daughter’s love that is real.
Just as sure as the north wind blows
I know my mother is like that rose.
The Last Doll
She sits on her porch in her rocking chair.
As she clutches the object in hand.
Her arthritic fingers are a hinder now.
But she sews as fast as she can.
Lord,
she speaks to the master above.
As her fingers began to move slow.
I know I can do this with Your help.
One more doll please let me sew.
So many years I’ve been here on earth.
I’ve sewn many dolls in the past."
Lord, where did all those years go?
The times gone by so fast.
Please help me as I make this last doll.
Then she pauses as she sews on a bead.
"Give me strength Lord to finish this one,
For a small child out there in need."
I remember the first doll I ever made.
Out of a corncob, buttons, and silk.
"I gave it to a man down the road,
In exchange for a gallon of milk."
As she finishes the doll and lays it aside
She thanks the Master on high.
Her rocker stops rocking, her eyes are closed.
She just sewed her last goodbye.
I Traveled This Road Before
I journey down this road once more.
No seaside inn, no balmy shore.
You ask me why.
Why I don’t cry.
It’s because I’ve been down this road before.
With each step I view the seeds I’ve sown.
As I journey down this road alone.
Which fork do I take?
From this dream let me wake.
It’s the scariest I’ve ever known.
The rain seeps into my very soul
It hinders me from reaching my goal.
But who am I,
To question why.
Tho it seems life has taken its toll.
I pause to touch branches on a tree.
In hopes they’ll give me stability.
As I reach out my hand.
To touch this fair land.
A thought proposes itself to me.
I’m not journeying down this road alone.
I know the seeds I planted are my own.
Just like that tree,
God’s with me.
And He knows every seed I’ve sown.
I Never Cried for My Father
I don’t ever recall him hugging me.
Or tucking me into bed.
The three simple words I love you,
I know was never said.
He never held me on his lap.
And I don’t remember his smile.
If he would have held me while I cried,
I would have walked a country mile.
The many beatings I endured.
The line I had to toe.
Was this his way of showing love?
I will never know.
I don’t remember feelings of love.
Just fear, dread and hate.
I never cried when he passed away.
Now it is too late.
The Permanent Resident
Listen - - - can you hear it? No, it makes not a sound.
Look closely, you can’t see it, even though it’s around.
When you try to face it, it seems to disappear.
But it’s around every corner and always quite near.
If you think you can smell it, you’re definitely wrong.
There’s just one part of you that can feel it so strong.
It can leave a bitter aftertaste, if you know what I mean.
It can enter your life and never be seen.
It grows like a fungus. But when did it start?
It moves right in and takes over your heart.
It gains momentum with each relationship that turns sour.
It grows and flourishes with each passing hour.
It feeds on your pain and gloats with each tear. It resides in all of us; The feeling of fear.
Unattended Projects
Another poem that lays unfinished.
A partial song never sung.
Another picture drawn by an artist,
That will never ever be hung.
Another movie that was started,
But pushed aside without an ending.
All the gifts from up above,
That will forever go on pending.
Someones project that goes untouched.
An instrument played but never heard.
Why do we start things we never finish.
This is so absurd.
Can you visualize a partial mountain?
Or a river that wasn’t done.
If the sun would only set half way,
Then our existence would be none.
Signs Of The Prophets
In the distance I see the future.
Of signs soon to come.
Like a storm setting over the universe.
Only viewed by some.
Like an unwritten movie before my eyes.
That proclaims what is yet to be.
The signs of the prophets are everywhere.
Open your eyes and see.
If destruction is your only guide.
And war is your profane.
The future you possess within yourself,
Will hold nothing but pain.
If nothing but peace, love and happiness,
Is eternally what you seek.
They will cast out the demons of hate and greed.
Leaving them mild and meek.
When God reigns down with His mighty hand,
As He calls out your name.
The self-seeking people of this earth,
Eternal life they will never gain.
Our Lives A Book
I believe our life is like a book.
Each day that passes a page.
Every hour that goes by could be a paragraph.
Each moment of our lives is a stage.
Take this book and fill it up,
With many good thoughts and deeds.
Touch each person in your everyday life.
Plant and water those seeds.
Grow with each chapter in this book.
And I’m sure you will agree.
You can look back on your life with contentment.
And I know you’ll be able to see:
All the people you’ve touched in this life.
You see loves like an ocean wave.
Whatever goes out comes back in.
You’ll receive all the love you gave.
Take Time To Heal
Try as I might, I can’t sleep
Alone at night I count sheep.
Keeping myself busy during the day.
Envisioning this feeling inside won’t stay.
To many hours of being alone.
I’m so afraid of the unknown.
Memories that don’t want to fade away.
Enter my head night and day.
Tho the world outside keeps moving on.
Only the hope I felt inside is gone.
Help me Lord to dissipate.
End these feelings that I hate.
And lead me out of this place I’m in.
Let me escape through the poems I pen.
Listen
Listen to the wind as it passes through a tree.
Listen to the birds singing in harmony.
Listen to all of natures sounds as they play a symphony.
Just close your eyes and listen to the things you normally see.
Take the time to listen and see if you don’t agree.
Mother nature blessed this land just for you and me.
All of mother natures sounds I’m sure was meant to be.
The birds, the wind, the rain, the trees are having a jubilee.
It doesn’t cost you anything, not even a small fee.
To close your eyes and listen to what God has given free.
My Conversation With The Lord
The word regret in this life reaches out to so many.
If I could live my life over there’d be changes aplenty.
If I’d known where I was going, I’d gone a different route.
And maybe, just maybe, I’d know what life’s about.
One more time on this earth? Would I want this to be?
I really don’t know. Oh this is insanity.
Could I stand before my maker and tell Him I was insane.
That’s why I messed up my life, went down the wrong lane.
Would He smile