Prophets Pen and Paper

Pen and Paper… what friends of mine,
Yet prophets like Moses and Paul.
Despite what could be read between the lines,
They can create works of art.
Though they have horrible and shameful confessions of historical stature,
They can make a mew and beautiful character
Out of the very villain so guilty.
They can explain the nature of what created the evil
And in the same message convey the transformation
Of the demon into an angel.
God’s beauty and magnitude of divine power
Boldly shouts from the pages.
The printed work joyfully embraces its reader.
And the prophets called Pen and Paper
Are serving God with the same holiness
As with love and wisdom in the Holy Bible.
God’s right hand made great warriors
Of even the simplest tools… pen and paper,
Just as He had done with the murderers… Moses and Paul,
Who were later known as great prophets.
Imagine what He can do with you and me,
If we will just believe and let Him.

7-1-2001 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire

The Chat Room Walk Addiction

Night in sky… oh hear my cry… I long for company to visit.
I have a love and a friend, but no one seems to miss me.
I have a computer and Internet, a Buddy List galore,
FreeTel, and everything, yet I am what all ignore.
I work all day on this thing for school and for play.
No one wants to take a minute or two and just say hey.
I dare to open up the pathway to anyone who’ll talk.
I get so lonely for conversation I take the Chat Room walk.
What I find there can be so ugly, but sometimes so nice.
At least someone will listen and/or give me some advice.
It’s not always my friends or lover’s fault. They have things to do.
But there are plenty of times I see them on and they won’t say, “Boo!”
I send an IM and EM, and patiently wait my turn for a reply.
I know that they have many windows open,so do I.
I play a solitaire game, write a poem, and wait for a flashing box.
But curiosity and loneliness get the best of me and I become a fox.
Slyly I enter a room where people are engaged in TALK! Oh TALK!
I sit and watch as much as possible until I know it’s rude to gawk.
“Hi, my name is” and “f/30/nc” goes out to the room alive.
“Hi, NAME!” comes back to me and my chat blood starts to thrive.
Finally the world acknowledges my existence on this Net.
And I am up till morning light making friends I won’t forget.
Next day arrives , computer on,and what do my ears hear?
“You’ve Got Mail” and inside I jump or cheer.
“Instant Message from Lover or Friend” appears on screen too.
“What have you been doing?”
“Oh, not much… and you?”

9-19-1999 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: What else? Chat Addiction.

The Big Rascals Clan

From Asheville to Florida, I write and call.
My friend and I have a ball.
Yack, yack, yack.
She talks right back.
Her husband screams, “Alright, y’all!”

Alfalfa, Darla, Buckwheat, and more.
The Little Rascals are what we’re known for.
We each have a part
In this game at heart.
It keeps things from getting boring.

Randee, Mark, Sandra, and Gail
All get along so very well.
They are so crazy,
But never lazy
Except when it comes to Gail’s mail.

And Anthoni Lance is the little star
Of this nutty group so bizarre.
He is so cute,
But never mute.
He has a place in all our hearts.

Moms, Dads, Nathan, and Tim
Of course, you know, we love them.
Charlie’s a riot.
Homey’s not quiet.
Anthoni gets that from them.

1997
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: Randee (aka Darla) ❤

When I Was Pregnant

When I was pregnant, help came from an unexpected source.
The family I expected to lose was tickled
And eager to help by being there with me through it all.
My friends were there for me as well
By taking me out and listening to me when I needed to talk.
My sister went to all of my doctor appointments,
Became my labor coach, and went to my labor classes.
My grandmother, my mother, and friends
Threw me a baby shower at 8 months pregnant.
When my sister went into the hospital with me,
They would not let her go into the delivery room
Because they had to put me out to do an emergency c-section;
However, I still consider her to have been there all the way.
With the way everyone celebrated in my room for 4 days,
I sometimes wonder if it wasn’t the best thing to ever happen to me.

11-9-1992
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: My English professor J.S. gave me a challenge to write on the best thing to ever happen to me. It was easy to think of my son. I honestly believe God used him to save me and my family from ourselves. We were a very dysfunctional family torn apart in different places. As an unwed teen mom, I thought it was very normal to be disowned by your family, and thought life was only going to harder, thinking even that to be normal. God surprised me! My son Anthoni brought everyone together, and changed our family and our lives forever. People who knows us today, but did not know us then find that hard to believe. That is what God can do with a testimony. God is my hero!

Sharing

Spoiling my friends,
It’s something I love to do.
I mean no harm or offense.
My motive, I assure you, is true.
I am not trying to get on anyone’s good side.
It’s just my way of expressing
A caring I just can’t hide.
If in the future we are apart,
Like many friends who’ve left,
I hope you’ll remember me by the things I give of myself.
I’m afraid there will be many times and many friends
I won’t have the money or opportunity
To have anything to send.
For all of those I give something,
Please accept and keep.
And sincerely for those I forget or miss,
The regret is running deep.

10-29-1990 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Music Moves Me

Sad again, to think of one
Who’s broken my fragile heart.
I hear a favorite song of mine,
I’m into my favorite part.
Blue again, to remember friends
Who have came and left me alone.
I hear the bass pumping hard,
And nothing could go wrong.
Too excited from a joke,
I need to catch my breath.
A heart bleeding song plays,
And feels as though my death.
The world I know and live in
Is one to keep you moody.
But the music we have to hear
Keeps thing really groovy.
So try to understand why
The radio takes my mind.
I’d rather be caught up in music
Then let the world leave me behind.

10-25-1990 Thursday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Night Writers

Friends of suicide.
Souls of the misunderstood.
Many thought they escaped.
If only they could.
Turning back the clock
Is a dream to the world.
Everyone is a prisoner to love.
The key is our search.
Friends of the future,
I warn you of death.
It is not the answer.
It’s only your last breath.

12-21-1989
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. God is our escape, the answer to life and death!
He waits to free you!