This Hill, (Your Hill)

Dry leaves between your toes may itch
To cause U to itch like a son of a B

If you fall off that high seat
O’ my, your bum may be meat

You’d best be quiet, there’s a still
Closer than you know, run by Bill

His presence will be felt, I know
By you ~ if you try to stop the flow

O’ U say U understand about life,
The farmer, a’ha, and his wife

Be wary, he’s far from being share’y
If ye err ye mite just become a bit leery

A vision of yesteryear, gone astray
O’ well, if that’s a game U wish to play

This land ye have, was given from above
Listen closely, nurture it with love

One day we’ll all be together in the fold
And that is where our story may be told.

So Long for now, Not ever, Good Bye

Copyright © 2013 Charles E. Frost
May 14, 2013

The Seed

In soggy leaves upon the ground
Cloven hoofed tracks are found.

Silence broken, shots ring out
Running feet, angry voices shout.

No trophy hunting here, but it’s too late,
The deed is done. Why, this fate?

The presence of another life
From the past amid hate and strife

Is felt in hearts, souls and minds
To remind one and all of those times

Why O’ why do we repeat the need
Of sacrifice of life from that seed

And the trek with nails and cross
In hand up that hill, where the cost

Of sin was paid, for you and for me
By a loving God, Who gave His Son for thee.

So long ago

Copyright © 2013 Charles E. Frost
May 14, 2013

Eerie Is The Feeling

Why is it when I’m writing I am stopped,
Brought up short, to have my mindset
Changed, right then and there, on the spot?

‘Tis an eerie sort of feeling, stabbing, will not
Wait, don’t you see, secretive, not revealing
Imperious, needs attention, just from me.

My writing is at a standstill, just when my
Words were tumbling from my mind. They
May come stealing back if relaxation I find.

That is not easy when I am fired up to write.
I have a burning desire to write perfection
into a story or any writing of my very own.

I strive for truthfulness throughout with
just a bit of writer’s choice to add zest.
In other words, I want to do my very best.

Readers, I’ve spelled out my wants and my
Fixations and believe I know what I must do.
I will stay with my desires to write my

Very best for you.

Copyright © 2013 Charles E. Frost
May 14, 2013

The Little Red House on Rock Knoll

Many years ago there was a little Red House
That sat on a rocky ledge called, Rock Knoll.
All that passed by admired the view and the
deer many times, standing there on the hill.

The little red house, has been gone for years,
Never forgotten, it’s seen laughter, joy and tears .
A small family, of course now grown, saw need
For more rooms than that of the house there

On the knoll. They loved that tiny home but refused
To tear it down, added on and on. It grew
With the family. All loved it and took part.
Small animals lived there too, there’s more

Of that yet to tell ~ I’m going to bed now, that’s all,
Good nite to all at Rock Knoll

Good Mornin’ all, I am back at Rock Knoll,
Awakened by thought of that wee red house
And all that reside there including tha mouse
That took residence there, that many years ago.

That little red house in reality is extinct
But in the minds of some will never go away.
There now stands majestic ~ I say this in ink,
A big brown house, but memory holds sway!

As I said, I am back, but I am leavin’ toot sweet
Whatever the hell that may mean. So long,
Not good bye, we were taught long ago by,
A Mom, who was wise, never, never, good byes.

Ha, Ha, I was the wisest of all,
I made her my wife, Alas, she has passed.
Our time will come, sooner than later
It will be our ‘forever and ever’ at last!

Copyright © 2013 Charles E. Frost
May 11, 2013

He’s There

When you are down and feeling Lonely
When you’re alone and feeling blue
Do you feel that someone’s watching
And Checking out every thing you do?

Do you sense the presence of familiarity
And the nearness of a feathery touch,
Do you get a tingle, through your spine
In prayer, do you feel your fingers clutch

Holding on to something you cannot see?
It’s time, my fellow man, to search your soul
Don’t be waiting there on a stormy sea
There is more a’waiting you in God’s fold.

He’s been biding His time to call you
And will, in His own time, but He has been
Knocking at your door and understands
The loneliness you feel, watched the scene.

He is there! He is there every moment
At your side, loving, touching you, holding
You in His hands, welcoming you, to
His fold. Amen!

Copyright © 2013 Charles E. Frost
May 11, 2013

Symphony

Methinks it’s time for me to break out in a symphony
Of words. I’ve been silent for o’ so long, it pains me.
My writings suffer too. I scratch my head and think
To no avail. Words appear, what I see, is wasted ink.

My thoughts come from my heart and from my soul.
The fingers do not cooperate to create that symphony.
I pray the power from the past, will return and bring
Music to my soul and cause my heart to sing.

LO! Thoughts from a love, long past, rejuvenate my
Fingers so that they are dancing in merriment upon
The keyboard of my mind and bring on a symphony
Of loving words that I dreaded were forever gone.

What appeared to me as wasted ink, cannot last.
All that matters now seems to be cooperating.
Nothing can override my special love of the past,
It is ever on my mind, in my heart and in my soul.

A symphony of everlasting love, played, no end.
To me all I’d want or need before a heaven;
A symphony, music made of love that could
Bring all the world to sing.

Copyright © 2013 Charles E. Frost
May 10, 2013

To The Author Unknown – A Respopnse to Growing Old

The following writing has been around for many years. I find it timeless and have decided to include it here on my blog. It is followed by my response to its thought-provoking words:

Growing Old

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don’t agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I’ve aged, I’ve become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I’ve become my own friend. I don’t chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn’t need, but looks so avante garde on my patio.

I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 a.m. and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50′s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love … I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.

They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don’t question myself anymore. I’ve even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be.

And I shall eat dessert every single day.

Author Unknown

To The Author Unknown – A Response to Growing Old

This was sent to me in 2007 by a friend with the following words: May our friendship never come apart especially when it’s straight from the heart! May you always have a rainbow of smiles on your face and in your heart forever and ever!

Friends forever!

With regards to ‘Growing Old’, I offer the following response:

To the author Unknown,

I somehow know, I think it is the will of our God, that there are words for me to write here. I, being on the rim edge of ninety-eight years of age and am entitled to a word or two in response. That is easy.

I fully concur with the writing of the unknown. Hold up now, I have had my doubts, here and there, along the way. Always, on reflection tho, I have gotten a nudge from a quarter that lies deep within my soul, a loving God. “ Stop and think” It comes from a silent voice I know well. ‘ You know who and what you are ‘. Yes I do and I will go on as I know I should. I will follow the path You laid out for me. It’s been a rocky road of winding crooks and deep valleys of troubles and disappointments but I have for the most part come through them smiling, unscathed and go on.

The Unknown Author has described a normal lifetime, I would not argue any point that has been made in an attempt, to lessen it’s impact on the whole

Old Age is a Gift from God

Copyright © 2011 Charles E. Frost
April 25, 2013