Fields of Blessings on Father's Day
by ©Marilyn Ferguson
On Father's Day we take the time
To turn our thoughts to dad
Thank him for the home he gave
For all the things we had.
We think about the fleeting years
Too quickly, gone for good
It seems like only yesterday
I'd go back if I could.
A time when dad was always there
No matter what the weather
Always strong when things went wrong
He held our lives together.
He strived so hard from day to day
And never once complained
With steady hands, he worked the land
And kept the family name.
He taught us that hard work pays off
You reap just what you sow
He said that if you tend your crops
Your field will overflow.
My harvest has been bountiful
He taught me how to give
In his firm and steadfast way
He taught me how to live.
Dad dwells among the angels now
He left us much too soon
He glides across a golden field
Above the harvest moon.
I see him in the fields of grain
He rides upon the wind
When my path is beaten down
He picks me up again.
©2003 Marilyn Ferguson
A Humble House
I live in a humble house,
Because that is my style,
Each room is decorated with
Love and a lot of smiles.
A humble house was all I sought,
Where I could take my ease,
Just sit down, kick back a bit,
And do the things I please.
It wouldn't matter if it was built,
Of lumber, bricks, or stone,
I would light it, with lots of smiles
That would make it all my own.
My house would never know the fear,
Of hidden, unseen dangers,
Instead I'd fill it full of friends,
Because there are no strangers.
There may be just a bit of dust,
That covers the top of a table,
Some dirty dishes in the sink,
Until I'm willing and able.
But my humble house is full of love,
And will never sit here empty,
It will never need a buyer because
It's full of smiles 'aplenty'.
Loree (Mason) O'Neil
I go back to my childhood once again
Through my memories that are there deep within
Things have changed with the passing of time
The old oak tree is gone that I used to climb
I loved my room up there on the second floor
All alone with my thoughts as I'd close the door
And I'd open my window to feel the breeze on my face
As it gently stirred the curtains of pink lace
I had homework to do when I came in from school
No play or chores till I followed that rule!
My Momma was strict and seemed set in her ways
She also knew how to give me much needed praise
I remember the smell of line dried sheets
And roses by the back door that smelled so sweet
Corn and tomatoes growing in the garden out back
And fresh carrots I could always have as a snack
Sunday dinners were prepared early in the morn
So we could go to church & hear about Jesus being born
Most likely the priest would come home with us to eat
And My Dad always thought that was such a treat
Sometime we'd have family picnic's on Sunday afternoon
We'd stay down by the creek till we saw the ol' moon
We all had a ball as our family met down there
It was as much fun to us kids as the country fair
Oh to go back for just a bit & be that child once more
Stand by window & hear Mom call Come, do your chores
To go to the hen house & get some eggs to cook a cake
Sweet, sweet memories that again make my heart ache
POEM BY Melva
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true,
whatsoever things are honest and are just,
whatsoever things are pure and lovely,
whatsoever things are of good report;
if there be any virtue,
And if there be any praise,
think on these things.