What I Think of My Thoughts

If in one moment I stopped and gave a thought
To the thoughts I carry within,
I wouldn’t think much of those thoughts
That aren’t so very nice, my friend.
The world has played its games.
The world has toyed enough.
I’ve got to get past this sweetness,
And remember to be tough.
God asked me to love and I loved.
I loved one another and the other.
But I guess the others forgot to love me back
Because I wouldn’t be their lover.
Oh, deception is a lie.
When you call that love,
You haven’t even tried.
So what would I have to say
To those, to me, and to my God?
The thoughts I keep aren’t Christlike.
I pray that they be not.

8-3-2000 Thursday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Cowboy Lance

Cowboy Lance was a good ole boy.
He took after his grandpappy and uncles when it came to being a man.
He got his manners from the women folk,
And you know his love for God did too.
His maw sure did love him from the day he was born.
He was the only baby I ever seen born on a horse,
With a gun in each hand.
If you ever run into him, you’d better be nice.
Cause he’ll zip right through ya.
But don’t you worry gals.
He’s still a heartbreaker.
Why he had a showdown with Billy the Kid himself,
On a’count Cowboy Lance stole his favorite gal.
Even married her.
But she died of smallpox.
The secret to Cowboy Lance’s heart is not a hard thing to find,
But he sure does like a whole lot of them,
So be sure to get a whole lot… Of sweet Roses!
So be sure to look for Cowboy Lance
Riding on his famous white horse.
His horse’s name is… Polliwog.
The End.

6-17-1996 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire
(Cowboy Lance’s Mom)
Inspiration: my son use to sit in the computer lab where I worked.
My boss loved teaching him how to use graphics (when GIFs just came out).
He and I wrote this together when he was 8 years old.

I Resign

To my present state, I have to walk away.
I cannot portray an artist where there are none left today.
If all my writings were so great and really helped in relating,
Then I would have my friends and lovers, but instead I’m always waiting.
Nothing’s ever came of them, they never made my point.
I’ve still lost the love I had though I tried with a poem.
And though I made a mistake to love, I never really understood the lines
That I not only cared for them, but that without them I would fall behind,
And arguments that came between the lines we have shared,
Were times I tried to apologize, but never found they cared.
So if they really loved my writing and said I was expressing myself,
Why didn’t it ever mean anything? It never really helped.
So what’s the point of going on and writing as though I’m best?
It never stopped them from leaving. Instead I failed the test.
So to you all I must protest to the accusation
That I am such a perfect writer when it’s all imagination.
It never made you really believe that I ever really tried
To give you everything I have. I hated that you’ve cried.
So if I can’t express myself, or at least make you believe,
I resign from writing at all. The profession I now leave.

11-21-1990 Thursday, Thanksgiving Day
Written by Gail Brookshire

I WRITE

I write, I write, and I write.
I’ll write for the rest of my life.
I’ll write today. I’ll write tomorrow.
I’ll write when I’m somebody’s wife.
I write about the happiness
That I can find in a story.
And a lot of poems are drafted
On how our world destroys.

6-24-1990 Saturday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Time to Myself

Hours of the night I sat
Thinking about myself,
Finding all the good I could
And looking at what needs help.
I saw there were a lot of things
That I would like to change.
Yet glad there were so many things
That, fortunately, have stayed the same.
Time alone, all by myself,
It’s the only way I can think.
For I fall easy to ridicule.
With criticism I shrink.
Morning nearing, I grew so weary.
It was time to get some sleep.
But it felt great to feel good inside,
For the respect was running deep.

2-16-1990 Friday early morning 5am
Written by Gail Brookshire

Sometimes… He Does Somehow!

Sometimes I fear I communicate too much.

Sometimes I fear I can’t communicate at all.

But somehow or other people convince me

That I have this gift from God to do so.

Sometimes I say too much.

Sometimes I need to say something.

But somehow God finds a way to use me

To say exactly what He wants me to say.

Sometimes I push people away.

Sometimes I entice them in.

Bow somehow God manages to show me

I have touched them all for Him.

Sometimes I talk too loud.

Sometimes I need to speak up.

But somehow God gives me opportunity

To wisely use His time in me.

Sometimes I like to write.

Sometimes I feel it’s useless.

But somehow God convinces me

It’s exactly what He expects of me.

Sometimes I know my way.

Sometimes I feel so lost.

But with God in my life and heart,

My witnessing will be HIS!

4-27-1998 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Praise You for 100 Followers and Over 3,000 views on gaillovesgodspoetry!

Ok, God. It’s time to give YOU some more glory! It’s not about the numbers! You know anything You give me is all about You! What You bless this poetry blog with is all Yours!
According to WordPress, Damon Ashworth Psychology became the 100th Follower.
Bless him and his blog, Lord.
He had a pretty interesting sleep study (What Happens If You Go To Bed Too Early?) as his last post. Help him and his clients to have the restful sleep that only You can provide.
100 Follows!
Congratulations on getting 100 total follows on gaillovesgodspoetry!
Your current tally is 102.
WordPress also says there have been over 3,000 views now. You always amaze me that what You whisper in my ear, or that I talk with You about would be of any interest to anyone.  It’s You! They see You in anything they see good, or that You grab their attention with… because everything is about You… for me!
500 Posts
Congratulations on writing 500 posts
We have so many more poems to add on that You allowed me to write through the years. Right now we are on poems from 1998. Sometimes it is so hard to read something that was painful, or shameful, or sounding so insulting to You, instead of glorifying You. But I hear You, and I obey. This is a testimony for You. How can anyone know the wonderful things You have done for me, if they do not know where You brought me from. And more importantly, You remind me with more and more comments from others that there are others who are currently going through the same thing. They need to know You care, that You are with them, and that it is very possible to have a new life in You… no matter where You find us. So I trust even the unpleasant writings to You. It is a place that life once convinced me would never change. But then You spoke! ❤ You rescued! ❤ You saved! ❤ And I am more and more in love with You every day! ❤
So please keep pouring Your words through me because I have always been blessed to be the first one to read them. You minister to me to with the love You pour out on all of Your children! I want the whole world to know Gail Loves God! ❤
And they need to know… God loves you!
“My heart is inditing a good matter:
I speak of the things which I have made touching the king:
my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.”
– Psalm 45:1 KJV

Marching for the King

With my head held high and my voice filled with joy,
Marching forward in an army devoted to the King,
“My heart is inditing a good matter:
I speak of the things which I have made touching the King:
My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.”
I gladly release the praises from my mouth.
I had refrained and hid what was inside too long.
There’s nothing I can do but let it out.
So many obstacles try to get in my way to the kingdom,
And I constantly stumble and fall.
But the King and His court are faithful to protect me
And guide me to the royal wall.
The gates are open and welcome to those who serve
And remain faithful to their Lord.
And as the enemies approach to seek their revenge,
The Gatekeeper warns with His Holy Word.
“An end, the end is come upon the four corners of the land.
Now the end has come upon thee,
And I will send mine anger upon thee;
And will judge thee according to thy ways,
And will recompense upon thee all thine abominations.
And mine eye shall not spare thee,
Neither will I have pity;
But I will recompense thy ways upon thee:
And thine abominations shall be in the midst of thee;
And ye shall know that I am the Lord!”
Destruction falls upon the evil seeking to destroy me
And consumes them with God’s wrath.
The King has led the battle with His soldiers behind.
The warriors have followed the right path.
Celebration spreads throughout the city of eternity,
As the trumpet announces victory for all.
With the war over and the King on the throne
They’ll never be another soul to fall.

11-15-18 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: Psalm 45:1 & Ezekiel 7:2-4

Your Poetry

Dear Lord, I want to live in Your poetry.
Your words are so beautiful, so powerful…
And when You bless me with them,
I am overwhelmed.
When Your grace flows through my pen,
I am amazed that You would choose me.
I am in awe to be Your poet.
I thank You for that honor, that privilege.
I cherish the gift to share You with others.
May Your message reach those to whom You want.
I know they have touched me often.
Thank You, Father God.
Thank You.
“Your poetry” is still the greatest!
“Your written word” comforts us all!

4-14-03 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

I Want To Write Something

God, I want to write something just for You.
Something so special that lets You know I love You.
I want to write something that shows my sincerity
and my deepest wishes to honor and obey You.
I want to write something to let You know
just how grateful I am to You for Jesus.
I want to write something that lets Him know
how I appreciate His sacrifice for me.
I want to write something that doesn’t just
share the news and love about Jesus,
but something that is so compelling,
so easy to understand,
so impossible to get away from,
that they won’t go another minute
without kneeling and giving their souls to You.
I want to write something so special somehow,
so much.
But Lord, “I” can’t write anything.
“You” are the one who writes “through” me.
And if there’s nothing You want to say just now…
that’s OK.
If You just want to spend this time alone with me,
I am glad to have You here with me.
I love You.

5-6-03 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

God’s Disabled Pen

My pen… it’s disabled.
It has ink.
It is in a capable hand,
and is in the hand of a writer…
a good writer, a gifted writer, God’s writer,
and yet it cannot write.
This writer has words, profound words,
to express,
a flood of thoughts that are drowning me out,
but I seem to have a gate or wall
blocking the flow of my pen.
Does it matter to anyone that I can’t?
Does anyone really want to read it?
Does anyone really need to read it?
Does it really need to be written?
My soul is crying, “Yes, please, I can’t breathe!”
I need to get these things out,
yet no one but me and God knows what they are.
Does God care if I get them out or not?
I think He does or else He would not speak them to me.
God, help me to do with these words and thoughts
as You want me to do,
that I might serve You
and give You all the glory.
Praise You for the word.

4-11-01 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

In a Slump

I can’t write anything.
Every time I start to write something,
I get in the middle of another thought,
then accidentally blend them,
and then they make no sense.
What am I going to do?
Writing is the only way I can express myself.
And if I can’t write anything,
I’ll never get anywhere with my feelings.
Maybe this is what they call a writer’s slump,
but whatever it is… it’s stealing my heart
and keeping me from sharing with the world.
And I have so much to share.
If only I could get it out.

3-19-91 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)

Unplugging Your Pen

I can’t do it, LORD.
I just can’t stop writing.
It’s like plugging my ears to You.
You are far too exciting!
You share Your secrets
And bless me with insight.
You help me bless others
And shine Your light.
Your words pour down
Like rain on my soul,
Sometimes rushing
Like waves that roll.
How dare I miss
One single Word.
How dare I not share
What I have heard.
Your words give life.
They’re what I breathe.
Without their presence,
My soul doth seethe.
Though doubts can challenge
My obedience to You,
I must write
And share more of You!

7-22-15 written by Gail Brookshire