TRICK OR TREAT

 

It was nine o’clock on Halloween night
Candy dish empty, trick or treating was done
The front porch light had been turned off
Seeing all the costumes had been fun

She had just settled down on her recliner
When the front doorbell began to ring
With a sigh, got up, went to the door
“I’m out of candy! Can’t give them anything1”

She opened the door, but no one was there
Then stepped outside and looked around
The sidewalks were vacant, totally bare
Not a trick-or-treater could be found

Puzzled, she went back to her chair
Then heard loud pounding on her back door
Cautious, she made her way to the kitchen
Peeked out a window to the same as before

Again, her front door was incessantly ringing
She took her phone and dialed 911
What had started as a happy evening
Turned into a night where terror had begun

A police car came to a screeching halt
And two officers came to her front door
She told them what was happening
She was trembling, scared like never before

With their flashlights, they began their search
And minutes later they were at her door
They had found and caught the culprits
A ghost and goblin, squirming like never before

“Ma’am, I believe that we have caught them”
They announced with smiles on their faces
“Do you recognize these little criminals?”
“Do we take them both to jail in disgrace?”

She recognized them as her neighbor’s kids
And she knew that they were very scared
She smiled, and then shook her head no
Fixed them hot chocolate, from jail was spared

TO BE A PIRATE

 

Ahoy, matey, and listen to my tale
Of high seas adventure under canvas sail
The jolly roger flag, I flew it high
Aboard my pirate ship, the Nellie Blye

With a cutlass and a crew by my side
No merchant ship from me could hide
Many’s the ship sent to the ocean’s floor
We’d ravage and pillage, then look for more

Our ship’s holds, they were treasure filled
Gold, silver, and pearls, for which we killed
A reward for our heads, it was a kingly sum
We scoffed at it over a keg or two of rum

Many poor souls we made walk the plank
At the end from under oot, we’d yank
The sharks they circled, waited for a meal
We could hear their cries and their squeals

When the voyage was over, treasure was divvied up
It could be doubloons, silver, or a gold cup
Back to port to gamble and drink it away
This was a typical pirates life every day

Then out to sea for another heist try
Never knowing if it was your day to die
Awake from my dream I was suddenly shook
Today I’d read more from my pirate book

AN AUTUMN AFTERNOON

 

The aroma wafted through the air
Swirled and mingled with her hair
The undeniable scent of autumn
Was so obviously there to share

At a local farmer’s market, she was
An event where she went every year
to shop, sightsee, and enjoy herself
The rejuvenation she needed was clear

The scent of cinnamon was present
Along with the ever-present maple
S’mores being cooked over an open fire
Apple cider, a time-honored staple

Pumpkins were piled, orange pyramid
Huge pine cones for sale in a sack
Ham and beans cooking in a kettle
Indian corn in a multicolored stack

The craft tables were overloaded
From homemade quilts to knitted scarves
Candles of many shapes and scents
Wooden signs that were hand-carved

As she shopped, a breeze picked up
Bringing down showers of leaves
Hues of red, brown, and yellow
Were the bright colors her eyes received

The plethora of sights and sounds
Combined made it a pleasant afternoon
On her way home, she happily smiled
Mentally made plans to come back soon

A HALLOWEEN SURPRISE

 

The porch light was on
The candy dish was full
The candle in the pumpkin
Cast shadows on the ghoul

He was waiting for them
A Bigfoot costume, he wore
He hoped he was frightening
When he opened the door

The doorbell began to ring
He saw ghosts and fairies
Batman, Hulk, and Thor
And others just as scary

As he turned the light off
The doorbell rang once more
He opened it and stared
At something never seen before

It was very tall and lean
It had an oversized head
Two oval eyes, no mouth
It filled him with dread

To a spaceship, it led him
Then they hurtled through space
Landing on a distant planet
Where he met another race

They stood eight feet tall
Were covered with long hair
Had feet that were oversized
With big red eyes, they glared

They took a look at him
And began a gibberish laugh
His costume didn’t fool them
From him, ripped it in half

Now he is a spectacle
And much to his dismay
Daily, he is on exhibit
On a planet so far away

THE AMERICAN DREAM

 

To own your own home
It is the American dream
A place that is finally yours
Is so right, so it seems

So, in debt; you deeply go
Payment due monthly on time
If you happen to miss just one
It’s like you’ve committed a crime

Insurance is another nasty word
An evil you have to have
Another expensive monthly payment
Making them rich on your behalf

Then you have the utilities
In your wallet, they eat a hole
Money, there’s never enough
If a payment’s late, they cajole

Property taxes, they are vicious
Making you pay for what is yours
When they are due, it is hard
To make the payment as years before

Finally, in your golden years
When it all belongs to you
You are forced to give it up
You have the nursing home blues

So, why even consider owning a home
If it’s going to be taken away
Deny the government the opportunity
Live with your kids until Judgement Day!

A DOUBTER NO MORE

 
He was born to be a skeptic
About everything he always questioned
Always seeing the negative side
His skepticism became an obsession

Everything had to be proven
It was the only way he believed
Evidence had to be irrefutable
Nothing else could he conceive

Proof, to him, had to be shown
And he still had his doubts
Even when it was ironclad
He’d examine it, within, without

He never took anything for granted
He always had to have proof
He always took it to extreme
His friends considered him aloof

One day he observed a miracle
How a man arose from the dead
He reasoned that it couldn’t believe
Then chose to doubt instead

He had to witness it for himself
If it was true or a cunning lie
No way would he believe it
In his mind it he quickly denied

Then Jesus stood before him
Offered nail-scarred hands and feet
Doubting Thomas doubted no more
His skepticism went down in defeat

He asked forgiveness for his doubt
Knelt and acknowledged the Lord
His skepticism he put behind him
His faith increased like never before

THE BOTTLE DIGGER

 
It was a hot sunny August day
When he arrived, parked the car
From the trunk retrieved his bucket
He didn’t have to walk very far

He was wearing coveralls and boots
Had canvas gloves, a hat on his head
Into the woods, he quickly entered
Out of heat into coolness instead

The trail he followed, it meandered
To his destination ahead, a ravine
Where bits of glass, and pottery were strewn
Everywhere they could be seen

Research helped him find this dump
It was the original for his town
Here he would spend the afternoon
Where local history could be found

Climbing in, he began to dig
Using a trowel, sometimes a knife
His goal was to find antique bottles
He had done it most of his life

Slowly he began to move the dirt
Listening for the clink of glass
It could be almost anything
From a medicine to an embossed flask

Countless horse and cow skeletons
He had found and dug through
Hundreds of women’s high-top shoes
How they survived? He had no clue

For every good bottle, he found
Dozens of broken ones he’d find
That was to be totally expected
It was something he didn’t mind

Slowly his bucket began to fill
An amber whiskey, an old ink well
An embossed local pharmacy flask
It was perfect, he could tell

A pontiled marble, cast iron truck
An early embossed amber Coke
He dug a perfect stoneware jug
From the midst of iron wheel spokes


Tired, he headed for the car
He thought about what he had found
Antiques to add to his collection
By just digging in the ground

His finds today, they were worth
Two hundred dollars or more
His cost, a bucket of sweat
And hands that were pretty sore

It was something he liked to do
He never knew what he would find
Every time he would go back
Hoping to find that one of a kind

A bottle digger’s life is dirty
They are usually in an old dump
Looking for relics from the past
Underneath those dirt clod clumps

From time to time a prize he’d find
He’d hold it up high and smile
That’s what he liked the most
It made his efforts so worthwhile

THE BUGGY RACE

 

Caleb pulled out of the barnyard
Pulling his buggy was “Little Joe”
He was on his way to town
He had six long miles to go

He knew he’d go by the Miller’s
He knew he wouldn’t go slow
Jacob would be watching for him
From past experience, he did know

Jacob liked to race his buggy
He had a nice mare named “Dot”
The duo had never lost a race
He bragged about it a lot

Up ahead was the Miller farm
Little Joe picked up the pace
Jacob was waiting for them
And he was itching for a race

Jacob pulled out right beside him
Shouted, “C’mon, Dot! Let’s go!”
What started as a friendly challenge
Turned into a deadly Amish show

Side by side they carelessly raced
Each one trying to get ahead
Little did each other know
That their horses would be dead

Side by side they crested a hill
Five miles outside of town
Neither one saw the truck
That put the racing pair down

A truck hauling chickens hit them
A mighty cloud of feathers flew
The boys were bruised and broken
Their horses were turned into glue!

 

COPYRIGHT 2019 - PRESENT,  JAMES GRAHAM as THE HOOSIERWORDSMITH.COM  all rights reserved

MY ONE DESIRE

 
In my life I have but one desire
To be drenched by His crimson flood
I want to be so thoroughly soaked
I’m washed clean by His precious blood

I want to experience its healing power
As it takes away my aches and pains
That rejuvenating power flowing in my body
A healthy body would be my ultimate gain

I know that power is available to us
I gained access when I got saved
Because my Lord Jesus shed it for me
My path to Heaven has been crimson paved

When it dripped from that rugged cross
That blood was given for you and me
From His birth, His fate was prophesied
He was to fulfill a most holy decree

That blood, I want to bathe in it
Have it penetrate deeply into my pores
Feel His power surge through my body
And change me like never before

To some, this may sound outlandish
It’s because His presence they have never felt
I really don’t care, it’s what I want
To completely transform this body I was dealt

This world is all about His holy power
And how it was changed by His blood
That’s why I long to be drenched
I want to stand under His quenching flood

A BOUNTY HUNTER'S LUCK

 
He was on a ruthless killer’s trail
The reward on him was temptingly high
Being a bounty hunter, life was hard
A fact that he simply couldn’t deny

He was deep in the High Sierra Mountains
That was where the killer’s trail led
His hair stood on the back of his neck
Any mistake and he would be dead

His horse’s ears suddenly cocked
Telling him that someone was close by
Double checked his pistol, it was loaded
He knew he wouldn’t get a second try

he knew all about the killer’s reputation
That he was lightning-fast with a gun
In all of the gunfights, he had been in
The killer was good and had always won

The hunter knew he was better with a rifle
With his Colt, he was fair, so-so
He knew if he was going to survive
His cunning he would have to show

Around a pile of rocks, he slowly went
On his holster, he laid his hand
On the trail waiting was the killer
Knowing kill or be killed was the plan

The killer slapped leather, went for his gun
And the hunter awkwardly did the same
Hot lead was flying in both directions
They were engrossed in a killing game

The killer’s bullets went soaring overhead
As in a moment, he suddenly dropped
His shots then connected, the killer was dead
His reign of terror had finally been stopped

There was only one reason that he survived
And that he wasn’t lying there dead
The very first shot that he had fired
He shot his horse in the back of the head!

DOES GOD GET TIRED?

 

I wonder if God gets tired
Of bailing His children out
Over and over rescuing us
Because of unbelief, we doubt

I wonder if He keeps score
Or if seventy times seven applies?
Does He, on His throne, reflect
About why we make Him cry?

I wonder if He ever gets lonely
Wanting a relationship, so bad?
I wonder if He feels unwanted
How our neglect makes Him sad?

I wonder if God gets tired
Of listening to people whine?
Instead of standing on their feet
They expect help from the divine

I wonder if God gets tired
Of listening to repetitive prayer?
Wishing people would trust Him
And know that He is always there

I wonder why He patiently waits
For us to come to Him?
He knows we all won’t do it
That worldwide salvation is slim

I wonder if after a hard day
If all He wants to do is rest?
Sifting through all of the requests
Feeling He was put to a test

I wonder why He loves us
When to Him, we turn our backs?
I wonder why He doesn’t give up
Start all over, His love retract

I wonder if God gets tired
Of daily putting up with me?
I wonder if He is waiting
For me to be what I can be?

IT TAKES COURAGE

 
                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                WHEN YOU WANT TO QUIT
                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                WHEN NOTHING EVER FITS

                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                WHEN THOSE TIMES ARE TOUGH
                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                WHEN YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH

                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                WHEN EVERYTHING IS LOST
                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                REPENT AND PAY THE COST

                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                PRECIOUS WORDS YOU HEAR
                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                THE SAVIOR, OH SO DEAR

                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO
                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                THE GOSPEL, OH SO TRUE

                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                OUR HEAVENLY FATHER ABOVE
                IT TAKES COURAGE TO OBEY
                AND DO IT WITH HIS LOVE

THERE WERE TWO!!!

 

He had finally hit the lottery
He had drawn a grizzly bear permit
A prize he had always coveted
In fact, he could hardly believe it

He had contacted an Alaskan outfitter
And through him had booked a hunt
Had practiced shooting his bow
With broad heads and field points blunt

Now he was sitting in a blind
Overlooking the crossing of two trails
His outfitter had guaranteed him
That this blind had never failed

At dusk, he was ready to leave
When he heard footsteps nearby
He knocked an arrow in anticipation
Get a bear, he sure was gonna try

He saw a dark shape materialize
Crossing the trail near his blind
He was at full draw immediately
Through his peep sight target did find

He released and watched his arrow fly
And his shot was straight and true
Into the ribs of a massive bear
Its loud roar was his satisfying clue

From his blind, he quickly stepped
And in moments he was dead
He thought there was one bear
To his dismay, there were two instead!

WHISTLING THROUGH THE WIND

 

Whistling through the wind, they came
Landing squarely on His bare back
Ripping, tearing out chunks of His flesh
A cat-o-nine tails was on the attack

With each brutal stroke, His blood flew
As the man grimaced, endured the pain
Each stroke was worse than the one before
His composure He tried to retain

The whip was covered with His blood
As was the one inflicting the blows
the man was becoming unrecognizable
As from His body, the crimson flowed

The savagery made the onlookers sick
They hid their faces, they were ashamed
An innocent man was accused, convicted
Of blasphemy, he had been falsely blamed

Whistling through the wind they came
Each one enhancing the pain even more
How He withstood it, only he knew
His fate? He knew what was in store

To the cross, He was forced to go
To die there while hanging on a tree
A broken body so horribly crucified
His blood flowing for you and me

When you hear whistling in the wind
Stop and think about what it means
Then remembered what our Savior endured
And how His blood washes us clean

THOSE BIG RED EYES

 
There's nothing more startling
Than a pair of big red eyes
Peeking in your bedroom window
Can make a grownup cry

Even what is more startling
From ground to sill is nine foot
There are no ladders out there
What you see is a Bigfoot

It stares at you most intently
Its curiosity makes it stare
Those red eyes are surrounded
By long and stringy dirty hair

With nose pressed to the glass
It lets off a subtle whoop
Followed by a very shrill whistle
Calling its hidden family group

The window is full of eyes
Bright red, glowing in the night
All watching, taking it in
Illuminated by the bright moonlight

One moment they are there
The next and they are gone
Looking out the bedroom window
You watch them cross the lawn

On the ledge, you put an apple
Maybe a marshmallow or two
Hoping that during the night
Bigfoot will again visit you

IT TOOK A BITE!

 
I wonder what it was like
When Adam and Eve took a bite?
When their eyes were carnally opened
While standing naked in the light

I wonder what they were thinking
When Satan whispered in their ear?
The way he turned God’s word around
Making God’s command not clear

I can imagine God’s disappointment
When they partook of that forbidden fruit
How their disobedience opened the door
And the world became Satan’s loot

I wonder if when God banned them
Did He, in His disappointment, cry?
Knowing that because of Satan’s deception
Adam and Eve had spiritually died

I wonder about the earth’s curse
And the changes that God made
How He turned a perfect world
Into a place to cause utter dismay

I wonder about all the animals
And how their diet drastically changed
How from eating grass to each other
Must have been awkward and strange

I wonder if as the couple left
If in remorse, they looked back?
They left a garden of plenty
To a life of struggle and Satan’s attacks

RANSON BOOKER'S FIGHT

 

Ranson Booker was a mean old cuss
His reputation? He liked to fight
His opponent? It really didn’t matter
Always ready, morning, noon, or night

Rough and tumble is what he did best
Bite off an ear or gouge out an eye
A kick in the groin for good measure
More than once his opponent had died

From miles around, they came to fight him
He boasted he had never been beat
No matter big or small or two at a time
He fought in rain, snow, cold, or heat

He’d shake their hand, come out swinging
It’d be over in no time at all
He would get a big grin on his face
As he would watch his opponent fall

But then one day he finally met his match
Drunk, he picked on the wrong man
Off the stage, he had just got into town
He was quiet, had a Bible in his hand

The man said, “Mister, I’m not afraid of you”
“Because I have the Lord on my side”
“But if you think that we have to fight”
“Then your desire will not be denied”

“Mister, Now I will tell you a little secret”
“With my Lord, I’ve never been whipped”
“He has someone assigned to keep me safe”
“He’s beside me during any hardship’

Ranson reared back his head and roared
At the man before him, he took a swing
What happened next was told for years
How Ranson’s whipping was a terrible thing

Ranson’s swing in mid-air was blocked
And a giant fist smashed into his face
From the floor, he glanced at his opponent
What he saw brought fear to his face

A being towering over him was waiting
Dressed in white, he stood eight feet tall
It looked down at Ranson with contempt
Waiting for Ranson to stand, answer the call

With a roar, he was back on his feet
With every swing, his opponent wasn’t there
For some reason, his punches didn’t land
He finally gave, beaten, in total despair

The man approached and spoke to him
“Mister, you did well, better than most”
“Who you just fought was my guardian angel”
“His name is Micajah, a heavenly host”

“Mister, I don’t know why you like to fight”
“I’m figuring it is all because of pride”
“Something tells me that you’ve killed before”
“Will you tell me how many have died?”

Ranson looked at him, tears in his eyes
“Mister,” he said, “tell me who you are”
“All I know is how to fight mean and dirty”
“It is all I’ve ever known how to do so far”

The man looked him square in the eye
Said, “God sent me here just for you”
“He told me to tell you that He loves you”
“That He has something for you to do”

Ranson stood there with tears in his eyes
“Tell me about this God that you know”
“All my life I have had to continually fight”
“And in return, I have nothing to show”

The man shared with Ranson the gospel
Micajah stood watch, always by his side
A mighty battle inside Ranson was raging
Between Satan and the one crucified

On his knees, Ranson cried out to God
Asked Him to please forgive his sins
A wave of love completely engulfed him
He was blood cleansed, without, within

Ranson bowed his head and softly spoke
“That was the hardest fight of my life”
The man spoke, “Mister, you had to win it”
“Or else your life would be continuous strife”

Ranson spoke, My reputation? What do I do?
There are men always looking for a fight”
“Do I tuck my tail? Do I run away?”
“Please tell me!  I want to do what is right”

“Mister,” the man said, “you’ve no need”
“You don’t ever have to fight again”
“You have been assigned a guardian angel”
“For you, he will always battle and win”

“When someone challenges you, takes a swing”
“Just remember your life in the past”
“No longer must you retaliate, defend yourself”
“For God will come to your rescue, fast”

“You are to tell them about what happened”
“How you fought a fight you couldn’t win”
“How a tussle with an angel brought you”
“The peace you now have now deep within”

“I am not saying that it’s going to be easy”
“Satan will send many wanting to test you”
“You must turn your cheek, absorb the blow”
“Allow the love of God to be a visible clue”

“Others will see how you have been changed”
“They will ask questions, want to understand”
“Share how that trying to whip a guardian angel”
“Helped you to become a better man”

THE LAST MOVE

 

Every time that I move
I say it’s the last time
It’s a task that I dread
I am not in my prime

First, you must pack it
And then label each box
Make sure that your dishes
Aren’t mistaken for socks

The new home must be cleaned
Your old one! it will too
Where you get your energy
You really have no clue

Furniture is not getting lighter
Which my back can attest
When carrying down a stairs
I try to do my best

I know something will get lost
Something else will get broken
Get tired, tempers will flare
Regret things hastily spoken

Then comes putting it away
There’s not enough room
If you get upset, go outside
Seeking solace in your gloom

Then comes cleanup time
Piles of boxes, packing galore
Only thing comes to my mind
Is what I said before

I have moved my last time
My next move? In a box
It will be my eternal casket
One not labeled socks