Ode To A Protruding Gap Filler: A Multi-Themed Poetry Collection

ODE TO A PROTRUDING GAP FILLER

  A Multi-Themed Poetry Collection

  By

  Donald Ray

  Copyright 2014 Donald Ray

  Cover Design by Laura Shinn Designs

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To my daughters, Haley and Emily

 

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  FIRST THEME: ROMANTIC

  SEEKERS OF A DUET

  >>One sings his song to the world…

  SECOND THEME: MISCELLANEOUS

  MY NAME IS STORY

  >>My name is Story. I have a tale to tell..

  IN THE EDDY

  >>A branch dips in a rushing river Forming an eddy..

  WHAT’S MY LINE?

  >>They come to me prone..

  THIRD THEME: CHRISTIAN

  THERE

  >>I came to My Lord in my despair..

  THE WARFARE OF WORSHIP

  >>I am the Walking Wounded..

  FOURTH THEME: CHRISTMAS

  YOU CAN’T TAKE AWAY CHRISTMAS

  >>You can’t take away Christmas. No matter..

  WHEN WILL YOU SEE THE BABE?

  >>My sister asked, “When can you see the baby?”..

  A WINTER’S EVE

  >>(An acrostic haiku)

  FIFTH THEME: SPACE AND SCIENCE FICTION

  ODE TO A PROTRUDING GAP FILLER

  >>If, on the most complicated machine ever built by Man, The Shuttle..

  ABOUT DONALD RAY

  OTHER BOOKS BY DONALD RAY

  CONNECT WITH DONALD RAY

  A SAMPLE FROM MY NEXT BOOK

  FIRST LETTER BOLD & BRAVE

  (Alphabetical Acrostic Poems On Emotions)

  ANGER

  ROMANTIC

  SEEKERS OF A DUET

  One sings his song to the world.

  The other One sings her song to all she meets.

  They are Seekers of a Duet.

  The Search is one of starts and stops.

  He finds a high, sweet tune full of promise

  But soon dissonant notes intrude into the Harmony

  Like mistuned piano keys marring a sonata.

  She discovers a bass voice

  Like a steadily thrummed cello

  Which resonates in her with undertones of strength

  Soon, sadly, it seeks to overwhelm her song.

  “There are so many songs!” they Both Cry,

  “All with hidden disharmonies!”

  Against all hope,

  As in a miracle,

  He and She meet.

  Like an orchestra warming up

  They sing their songs to the other.

  Each song filling the gaps in the other

  But his song remaining as individual as her song

  A new pure harmony

  That crescendos

  In the cathedral of expectant people

  As the Duet begins

  On their wedding day!

  MISCELLANEOUS

  MY NAME IS STORY

  My name is Story.

  I have a tale to tell

  To One Special Person

  Or many Special Persons, as well.

  I am Story.

  My chapters are the years of my life

  Filled with Happiness sublime

  And Hurts that cut like a knife.

  I, Story, grew

  Day by day, year by year

  Not knowing, when I was young

  Of the waiting ear.

  When I was a child,

  Still growing,

  I would tell imagined tales

  My true story not yet knowing

 

  These tales I would spin with ease

  Like a loom well lubricated with grease.

  My soul when I would compose

  Was peaceful, like one in repose.

  Adult responsibilities came.

  My story was lost,

  Buried by career and marriage.

  I did not know the cost.

  I asked Jesus into my life

  And then,

  Through divorce, I lost my wife.

  One door closes, one door opens wide

  My true story I could let shine from inside.

  My tale flowed from my pen

  With words that I knew came from Him.

  To find your true story

  It is never too late.

  Discover your purpose

  To make your life great.

  My name is Story.

  I have my own true tale to tell.

  Won’t you all please listen

  And find yours as well.

  IN THE EDDY

  A branch dips in a rushing river

  Forming an eddy.

  The eddy is made of water of the river

  But never, moment to moment,

  The same water.

  During a storm,

  The river brings to the branch a floating log

  That smashes into the branch

  Tearing from it cherished bark and leaves

  Before the log is carried down the river.

  After the storm,

  The branch, though changed,

  Remains.

  The eddy remains.

  The river remains.

  The branch can not be in that part of the river where the log is

  But… the branch can anticipate what the river will bring –

  Sunny days,

  Water fragrant with flowers,

  New leaves abbudding.

  WHAT’S MY LINE?

  They come to me prone.

  I control their fate, I and I alone.

  I stand over each one.

  By the end of my long day, my feet are aching stone.

  A steady “beep, beep” punctuates the air.

  The lack of “beeps” would be a scare.

  My hands must move with accuracy and speed.

  A mistake is absolutely not what we need.

  When I’m done, each is given a big bill

  Guaranteed to really make them feel ill.

  You may guess, “You’re a surgeon. That’s clear.”

  But things are not as they appear.

  I’m describing “A Day in My Life” as a Wal-Mart cashier!

  CHRISTIAN

  THERE

  I came to my Lord in my despair

  Said, “I hurt.”

  And He asked, “Where?”

  “My heart… There.”

  On the cross. Spear-pierced heart.

  Jesus said, “I’ve been there.”

  Said to my Lord, “I’ve been misunderstood.”

  “Told I was evil when I was trying to do good.”

  Blasphemer, You were judged

  By the people You loved.

  Jesus said, “I’ve been there.”

  “My Jesus!” I cried, “All that I’ve lost,”

  Things, home, people above all cost!”

  Jesus, before Pilate, stripped of everything.

  His disciples, in the night, fleeing.

  Jesus said, “I’ve been there.”

  “Lord”, I said, “The loneliness I cannot stand.”


  “No one there to hold my hand.”

  Jesus hung on a rude tree.

  “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?”

  Jesus said, “I’ve been there.”

  “My Lord!” I cried, “I long for love and peace.”

  “And that this daily hurt would cease.”

  “To be wrapped in the loving arms of the Father.”

  Jesus, Risen Lord, said, “I’ve been there.”

  And smiling, He carried me ……There.

  THE WARFARE OF WORSHIP

  I am the Walking Wounded.

  I have been maimed by the strife.

  Who is there to restore me?

  To return me my life?

  I am the Shell-Shocked.

  By life’s trials I have been rocked

  So that I stare into space.

  How can my peace be replaced?

  I recall I fight an inhuman foe.

  Satan knows exactly where in me to go.

  My most vulnerable weaknesses hid inside

  To greatest pain, on them the Evil One has pried.

  A timorous soldier to war I go.

  By my little faith, this I know

  In Christ, weapons of divine power I can wield

  To make my Adversary at every point yield.

  Satan’s attacks are flaming arrows shot into my chest.

  A slicing cut then smolders to burn the rest.

  I lift my Shield of Faith

  His arrows disappear like wraiths.

  A sword I have, speckled with rust

  I fail to unsheathe it as often as I must.

  Oh Spirit, This sword is His Word, you see.

  A divider between truth and Satan’s lies it can be.

  A week’s war waged, I weary come to Sunday worship.

  Around me in the ranks unseen inside tears drip.

  We come to triage with the Great Physician.

  His presence heals our battered conditions.

  I now am renewed, though I still have scars

  Marching again, in Christ’s strength, to wage wars.

  CHRISTMAS

 

  YOU CAN’T TAKE AWAY CHRISTMAS

  You can’t take away Christmas.

  No matter how hard you try.

  Its spirit just won’t die.

  Santa Claus is gone from Coke cans

  Replaced by polar bears.

  Who cares?

  I do!

  St. Nick is the venerable symbol of the giving season

  But he is a pale sketch

  Of He that is both giver and gift.

  The Reason for this season.

  “Happy Holidays” is the latest “P.C.” thing.

  “O, Little Town of Bethlehem” – school kids can no longer sing.

  All in the name of “inclusiveness” and “Can’t offend.”

  But why do I suspect

  That the “Christ” in Christmas

  Is what fills its opponents with disgust?

  To try to set aside

  The centuries-bound traditions of the Yuletide

  Is to deride

  When God sundered the tide

  Of human history and forever changed it.

  His birth in Bethlehem and His death on a tree

  Sent ripples throughout human history.

  Cathedrals, art, books, philosophies:

  These are the heritage of all who live today.

  No, Christmas cannot be forgotten

  Despite the efforts of the misbegotten.

  And they ought to be fought

  By those who know by Whose blood they’ve been bought.

  So, say “Merry Christmas!” instead of “Happy Holidays”

  Simply, “Be Christmas” in all your ways.

  THUS, the spirit of “Christ – mas” will never die.

  It will live forever in you and I.

  WHEN WILL YOU SEE THE BABE?

  My sister asked,” When can you see the baby?”–

  The new-born son of my favorite niece.

  During the holidays, it’s hard to find a moment’s peace.

  There’s so much to do before I can fix

  A time to fly out to where they live – Phoenix.

  The time ‘til Christmas keeps getting shorter

  While the lines in the stores get longer

  And the tempers of the shoppers get shorter, too.

  “Could you come to see the baby?” my sister asks, “Can you?”

  I have to put up my Christmas tree

  And there’s a string of lights that won’t light, you see.

  I’m too busy right now to see

  The baby.

  I have to find the perfect gift.

  I’m out of wrapping paper – Where’s my list?

  I’m too busy right now to see

  The baby boy

  Who is the perfect gift of joy

  To a new mother.

  Two-thousand years ago, a baby boy

  Was born to a new mother.

  God’s perfect gift of joy

  The joy of salvation to every man.

  How did I, at this Christmas, fail to understand

  The way to see the Babe?

  It’s simply follow God’s command –

  “Be still and know”

  And seek and see Him

  Away in a Manger

  On a Silent Night.

  A WINTER’S EVE

  (An acrostic haiku)

  Aswarm the darkness

  White sparkling stars vault the sky

  Each viewer made small.

 

  SPACE AND

  SCIENCE FICTION

  ODE to A PROTRUDING GAP FILLER

  (In July 2005, in the Space Shuttle mission designated as STS-114, the Shuttle, Discovery, was launched to the International Space Station. This was the first Shuttle mission since Columbia broke apart on re-entry on February 1, 2003, killing all aboard. It was discovered by cameras on the Station that there were two felt “gap fillers” protruding out between the protective tiles on the underside of Discovery. It was feared that these protruding gap fillers could potentially affect the aerodynamic flow around Discovery during re-entry causing extreme heating and possibly a “burn-through” the protective tiles leading to the destruction of Discovery. In a historic spacewalk, Discovery astronaut, Steve Robinson, on the Station’s robotic arm, quickly removed the “protruding gap fillers”.)

  If, on the most complicated machine ever built by Man,

  The Shuttle, a simple strip of felt can

  Send craft and crew fire-balling to the ground

  THEN where on earth can security be found?

  It is advised, “Don’t sweat things that are small!”

  BUT it seems the small can exact a deadly toll.

  -- A half pound fall of foam

  Sent Columbia’s heroes to the tomb.

  Are we to fear every tiny thing here?

  NO!

  It is the cracks we are to attack

  A MAN, brave on a robotic arm,

  Dares to fix, even when feared it would cause more harm.

  Fatal flaws in machines, dumb brutes,

  Only mirror flaws in man’s thinking

  - And what is the use

  Of solving one without the other fixing?

  The fatal flaw of governments is small –

  The small horizon of the fiscal year is all

  They see

  - While limitless horizons beckon those on Challenger, Columbia, and Discovery.

  The Shuttle is a fine machine

  But not as excellent as it should have been.

  Waste and War cut its budget lean.

  Now brave crews ride technology 30 years old

  Because space progress has been sold

  By small minds whose “vision” is –“They can go to the Moon

  Why can’t they cure my cold?”

  When from the Moon, America retreated

  The gra
ndest adventure of the human spirit was defeated

  By the small.

  I mourn for what could have been done by Man

  If money had funded the subsequent plan –

  “Space Odyssey’s” twin-wheeled Station actually in 2001

  And colonists living in Moon Base One.

  Move “out of the Cradle” we must

  Human Life is too precious to entrust

  To one fragile planet.

  On Earth, there has been many an extinction

  There humanity has no distinction

  Mankind can perish by a city-block rock hitting the ground

  Or the smallest lethal virus making its rounds.

  Only “Off Earth” can security be truly found.

  ABOUT DONALD RAY

  Hi, I’m Donald Desch. “Donald Ray” is my pen name because “Desch” is so difficult to spell correctly in a search. First and foremost, I am a Christian. Having Jesus Christ in my heart as my Savior and Lord informs all of my work. Saying that doesn’t mean that I’m stodgy – I like to have fun and laugh. I think God the creator has a sense of humor – just look in the mirror and the people all around you!

  I am a divorced dad with two daughters, Haley who was recently married to Anthony Nickerson, and her younger sister, Emily who is still in high school. I liken myself as “The Poet-Laureate of Wal-Mart” where I have worked as a cashier for a good long time (please see “What’s My Line?” in this collection).